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silvfyre-writings · 1 year ago

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When was the last time you were alright? (BSD Fanfic)

Hello~ I return after idk how long with a new fukudad fic. I like to think this one is the "finale" of this little series I have (at least for now) but I hope to bring more Fukudad to the table in the future!!!

This is another quite dark fic, so please pay attention to the tags, because what is tagged is exactly what happens in the fic. So please, be mindful when reading.

Also, Ranpo uses they/them pronouns in this fic, but there are times where I may have accidentally misused pronouns. I think I caught them all, but idk.

For over a year, an entire year, Fukuzawa had been a parent.

It certainly wasn’t the direction he’d expected his life to take, and if he’d had any choice in the matter, he probably wouldn’t have ever gone down that route. Children and family just wasn’t something he felt like he needed or deserved, especially given the amount of blood on his hands. It had simply been easier to forfeit those ideas the moment he’d first killed someone and lock them away so that they never saw the light of day again. And it was safer too, because having people to care about meant that they could become a target, and that just wasn’t fair. So, for fifteen years, since that day he first left home, he had been alone, with nothing but himself and stray cats for company.

Until Ranpo.

He still found it hard to believe that he’d managed to raise Ranpo for an entire year, and that he’d actually managed to do a good job. The kid was still alive and breathing, they both had a place to call home, and if everything went ahead as schedule, Ranpo would have a job that would allow them to show off their talents without fear or repercussions. And better yet, Fukuzawa would be able to watch it happen; a feeling of pride welled within him as he imagined Ranpo unleashing their powers of deduction upon Yokohama, because there’d been a time—a long time—that he’d feared such a day would never come.

Because as Fukuzawa had had to quickly learn, Ranpo was not simply a child of genius calibre; in fact, they had many issues that had been ignored and left to run wild until Fukuzawa had come along to pick up the pieces. Now, Fukuzawa wasn’t blaming Ranpo for all these problems, because it was not the kids fault at all, but rather the fault of all the adults that had failed them—even their parents. He was reluctant to put any blame on Ranpo’s parents, considering that Ranpo still loved and missed them very much, but he also couldn’t ignore how they had sometimes brushed off their child’s concerns and tried to mould them into something they weren’t. Ranpo had told him once when they’d travelled to visit their parents grave, that while they couldn’t agree with some of the things their parents had done, that they also understood the reasoning behind it.

Because society simply wasn’t kind to those that were different, and Ranpo was as different as they came.

Ranpo’s sensory issues were one of the biggest obstacles that Fukuzawa faced, but it thankfully didn’t take too long for him to figure out the best way to handle them. Trips to buy groceries were done alone, or on particularly bad days where he was needed at home, delivered. On days where the slightest noise would set Ranpo off, the headphones he’d bought were brought out and used, with Ranpo often curling up on the couch under a blanket until the world was a little less noisy. Clothing was an easy problem to deal with, and was the only time that Ranpo ever braved the shopping centres with him, so at least the innocent pieces of fabric didn’t cause too much of a problem. Food on the other hand… was painful. There were days where Ranpo could eat without a problem, but then there were days where they couldn’t even stomach their much loved snacks. Not to mention, that there were foods that Fukuzawa loved to eat, but Ranpo couldn’t stomach in the slightest, either because they smelt weird or the texture was all wrong.

Fukuzawa’s solution to that was to simply stick a whiteboard onto the fridge that Ranpo could use to tell him how they felt about food each day, and so far, it had worked splendidly.

Which left him to deal with everything else that came packaged within Ranpo’s tiny form.

Trauma was something that Fukuzawa had seen many times over his thirty-three years of living, in various kinds of people, that also presented itself in wildly different forms, so he liked to think that he was adept in handling it. But apparently all the knowledge, tips, and tricks, he’d picked up from others was only useful in handling his own problems, because whenever Ranpo was reminded of something from their past, there were wildly different reactions depending on what exactly it was that they remembered. Sometimes it was panic that rushed through like a typhoon, leaving behind chaos and destruction that Fukuzawa had to fight to put back together. He disliked the panic response the most, because Ranpo couldn’t handle being touched when they were panicking, and any attempt to do so would result in fists colliding with whatever Ranpo could reach, so all Fukuzawa could do was sit close by and wait for it to pass. Most of the time though, Ranpo would just shut down and retreat from the world whenever an unpleasant memory came along, falling into a pit of silence and stillness that would cause Fukuzawa endless worry until it passed.

The shut downs were relatively easy to handle, since Ranpo’s need for physical contact jumped to the extreme when they occurred. During these episodes, Fukuzawa wasn’t allowed to leave, not unless he wanted to cause Ranpo more distress than they were already in. Most of the time, Fukuzawa would sit on the couch and have Ranpo practically curled in his lap while they watched a movie, and other times, Ranpo would just want to sleep, so Fukuzawa would sit and keep him company while he did so.

But while the shut downs were easy to handle, they were also dangerous, because there was no telling just how long they would last for, and when they came about, Ranpo simply existed, unable to take care of himself properly when they were so lost within their own head, so it was up to Fukuzawa to take care of them instead. Meals became whatever he could get Ranpo to eat, whether it be a piece of fruit or some kind of smoothie, and showers were spent with him in the room providing encouragement and support as Ranpo mechanically went through the motions of washing themselves. Other than that, Ranpo would either sleep, or stare into nothing.

Fukuzawa was always grateful when the shut downs ended.

So yes, Ranpo wasn’t the easiest child to handle, but Fukuzawa wouldn’t have it any other way honestly. Because despite all the bad times the two of them tackled together, there were far more good times to look back on, and it was those memories that brought a smile to Fukuzawa’s face. Like the first time Ranpo had attempted to cook dinner; it hadn’t been the best attempt, but considering it was the first time the two of them had done something together that had had them both smiling by the end of it, it’d easily become one of Fukuzawa’s fondest memories. And then there was the time where, when the power had gone out in a storm, Ranpo had been spooked by the sudden darkness, so Fukuzawa had, in a desperate attempt to stop the panic before it could begin, suggested that they build a blanket fort together.

If only the people that knew him as an assassin could see him now.

It’d helped though, and he and Ranpo had spent the blackout underneath their little fort together with plenty of torches to chase away the dark. And once the power had come back on, Ranpo had spent the day in the fort, watching movies and eating snacks whilst Fukuzawa worked from the couch. That too, was a memory that Fukuzawa looked back on fondly, and he was pretty sure that it was one that Ranpo also looked back on fondly. One of his favourite memories though, was when the flu had run rampant around Yokohama during winter, and while Ranpo hadn’t contracted it, Fukuzawa had, and it’d been the worst time of his life. Sure, he hadn’t died, nor had he wound up in hospital like other people had, but he also hadn’t been sick since he was twenty-one and living on his own, so he’d been hit pretty hard by the illness.

But this time he hadn’t been alone.

Ranpo had been there, and unexpectedly, they’d stepped up to take care of him, making sure that he had plenty of water, lots of soup—premade by their next door neighbour because Ranpo wasn’t trusted by themselves in the kitchen—and more than enough blankets to sink a ship. Fukuzawa appreciated the gestures, especially when it allowed him to curl up and rest in bed and be miserable about his situation. Eventually, Fukuzawa had recovered, and he’d thanked Ranpo for taking care of him, only to have Ranpo brush off his thanks with puffed out cheeks that were tinted pink. Yet, despite the clear dismissal, there was no denying that Ranpo had looked happy at the praise they’d been given.

And those were just some of the good memories.

But with good memories, came bad ones, but there was one memory that Fukuzawa held that was easily the worst memory he had, and what made it even worse was that it involved Ranpo.

“Fukuzawa-san, I’m hungry!” Ranpo whined for what had to be the fifth time in the past hour, clinging to Fukuzawa’s sleeve to get his attention.

Fukuzawa couldn’t help but sigh as he looked over his shoulder with the most patient look he could muster, which he was pretty sure was beginning to fray at the edges because even he had a limit on patience. And Ranpo was very good at hitting that limit and barrelling straight past it until Fukuzawa wound up caving to whatever demand they were making at the time. “I know, Ranpo, and we’ll eat soon, I—”

“But I’m hungry now!” Ranpo tugged on his sleeve hard, and Fukuzawa spun around to pull it free.

“Patience, Ranpo! We cannot eat right this second!” His words were a little snapped out, and regret filled him as Ranpo fell silent. But before he could apologize, Ranpo beamed at him, which honestly just left him feeling more confused since that wasn’t what Ranpo usually did when he lost his patience at the kid. Usually he fell quiet, and became sullen. He never did like snapping at Ranpo, because Ranpo was still a child and still learning how to be respectful, and if he snapped, then all he was teaching Ranpo was how to be even more impatient than they currently were.

“Can we get a snack then?” The kid asked instead, hope brimming in their eyes as they opened them, unleashing the full extent of the ‘puppy eye effect’ as Fukuzawa liked to call it.

Don’t give in. Fukuzawa told himself, and he quickly turned away from Ranpo to avoid those eyes that he found himself saying yes to more often than he would’ve liked. But… Ranpo suggesting a snack instead of continuing to beg for food was Ranpo’s attempt at coming to a compromise, and Fukuzawa was trying to encourage such behaviour…

“Okay, there’s a convenience store up ahead. You can grab something, but be quick otherwise we’ll be late.” Fukuzawa said, and smiled when Ranpo let out a cheer and dashed off ahead to the convenience store in question. He knew that by the time he arrived at the store, that Ranpo would have an armful of snacks that he expected Fukuzawa to buy and carry—because Ranpo carrying their own snacks was a farfetched dream—and he would have to coax Ranpo into putting at least half the snacks back onto the shelves before they went to the register.

And just as he’d expected, he entered the store to find Ranpo with as many snacks as they could carry.

“Just three.” Fukuzawa levelled Ranpo with a look, and continued to stare, even as Ranpo begged him to buy more than three, claiming that they’d die if they had to choose just three. But Fukuzawa refused to cave this time, and continued to stare Ranpo down.

“Ugh, fine.” Ranpo sighed and began to return the snacks until there was just three items in his hands that Fukuzawa quickly paid for before the kid could sneak anything onto the counter—something he’d had to deal with before… several times over.

The two of them thanked the cashier and left the store behind. Ranpo immediately tore open a packet of pocky and munched on three sticks at the same time, chattering away through a mouthful of food about how good pocky was and that Fukuzawa should absolutely buy more of it the next time he went grocery shopping. Because, according to Ranpo, pocky was an essential food necessary to kickstart their ability into working—it was just an excuse to eat more sweets, and they both knew it—and apparently, Fukuzawa was just being mean from not allowing him to eat more.

I’d like to avoid taking you to the dentist... Fukuzawa wound up just nodding; he’d continue to buy the same amount that he always did and just tell Ranpo he bought more.

“Say, Fukuzawa-san, why are you even trying to get me back into school?” Ranpo asked when their destination appeared in the distance.

“Because it would be beneficial for you to be among people your own age.” Fukuzawa explained and quickly continued when Ranpo opened their mouth to argue. “Just because you may be smarter than everyone else in the building, doesn’t mean that you won’t learn anything at all. School teaches you life skills, and social skills, both of which you need.”

For a moment, Ranpo was silent, their brow furrowed. And then they whined and stopped dead in their tracks. “Why can’t you teach me those things? I don’t want to go to a school where a bunch of adults won’t understand me! I’ve already done that and it sucked!”

Ah, that’s right, the Academy. Ranpo had told him a little about that time of their life, mostly about how they’d been thrown out of the Academy and left to fend for themselves, so Fukuzawa understood where Ranpo was coming from and why they were reluctant to return to school. He only hoped that this meeting he’d arranged with the school principal would be enough to convince Ranpo into actually wanting to go.

“This won’t be like the police academy.” Fukuzawa reassured. “The principal was nice when I spoke with her, and—”

“No! I refuse!” Ranpo snapped, looking genuinely upset now as they stepped back.

“Ranpo—”

“No!”

Fukuzawa felt the oncoming sigh, and forced it back down. He looked over Ranpo, taking note of the tension within that small teenage frame that continued to build, along with the growing tears, and he knew that if he didn’t do something fast, they would be heading home instead of going to this meeting. But if this meeting will cause Ranpo more harm than good, then who is it for really? The thought was sudden, but welcome, because it reminded him that he was supposed to be keeping Ranpo’s best interests in mind, and while he knew that school would be beneficial to the kid in order to teach them what Fukuzawa could not, he also knew that Ranpo wasn’t just your typical kid; they were special.

He crouched before Ranpo and reached out to grab Ranpo’s hands with his own. “Is it just the adults that make you not want to go back to school, or is there another reason?”

Ranpo shrugged and ducked their head. “I just don’t want to.”

Fukuzawa knew that there was more than what Ranpo was saying, but it didn’t seem like he was going to get an answer anytime soon, not without causing the kid even more stress. Emotional conversations were best had at home, where there were plenty of blankets and hot chocolates, and not in the middle of a random street. “Okay. I’ll postpone the meeting—”

Hope brimmed in Ranpo’s eyes as they lifted their head.

“—but you need to tell me why the idea of school makes you so upset when we get home, alright?”

Ranpo looked reluctant, but nodded anyway. “Okay…”

“Come on then.” Fukuzawa placed a guiding hand on Ranpo’s shoulder. “If we’re not going to this meeting, that means we now have time to get something for lunch.”

And just like that, Ranpo brightened in an instant, grabbing Fukuzawa’s hand and pulling him away from the school. He listened as Ranpo chattered about all the restaurants and cafes they’d walked past on their way here, telling him which ones sounded interesting and which ones weren’t even worth visiting; it soon became clear that the chattering was just an attempt at distraction, and that Ranpo had already decided where they wanted to eat, because Fukuzawa was definitely hearing more negatives than positives for most of these places that he was hearing about. But still, he nodded and listened, using his free hand in the mean time to send a text to the school principal, apologizing for the last minute message, and asking to reschedule the meeting.

The principal responded almost instantly, telling him it was fine and that she was more than willing to wait until Ranpo was ready for the meeting.

How she knew that Ranpo wasn’t ready, he didn’t know, but it further solidified the idea that Ranpo attending the school—if he could convince Ranpo to at least look at it—wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said now that they had more than enough free time. Ranpo paused in their rambling and looked up at him. “Why don’t we go eat at that new café that opened up a few streets over?”

“Do they have what I can eat?” Ranpo asked. “Cause I’m hungry, and I don’t want to starve.

“You won’t starve.” Fukuzawa rolled his eyes. “We’ll check the menu when we get there, and if they don’t, there’s the cafe that does have what you can eat at the other end of the street. Is that sufficient enough for you?”

“Yep! Now come on, hurry up, before I wither away into nothingness.”

“You are not going to disappear into thin air, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa sighed, although he was smiling at seeing Ranpo so energetic and happy.

“That’s what you think, Fukuzawa-san.”

As it turned out, the café did indeed have food that Ranpo ate—a lot of it in fact—and it became a mission to get Ranpo to agree to eating one or two things instead of the entire menu. Part of Fukuzawa was inclined to just let Ranpo eat everything in sight, because it wasn’t often that the kid actually had such a good day with food, and he wanted to treasure it while it lasted. But he pushed that side of him away; he was smart enough to know that allowing Ranpo to eat and eat was a recipe for disaster, that Ranpo would no doubt become ill from eating so much, and that wasn’t a battle Fukuzawa was willing to experience today.

Eventually, he managed to get Ranpo to choose an actual meal, and a sweet for afterwards—they both knew that he would eat the sweet first, but so long as he ate everything, Fukuzawa wasn’t going to complain. Too much. For himself, Fukuzawa chose a croissant and ordered a coffee—black—to go with it. And for Ranpo, they ordered a hot chocolate—with extra chocolate—along with some sort of pastry that Fukuzawa didn’t know, but Ranpo seemed ecstatic about, and katsudon, because apparently this café was a little fancier than most that just sold coffee and baked goods. Fukuzawa knew that he’d most likely be finishing the meal, but he would make sure Ranpo ate at least half of it.

And the entire time between arriving at the café, until now, Ranpo had not stopped talking.

Honestly, Fukuzawa was always impressed when Ranpo talked for hours on end, and he did try his best to listen and understand what it was that Ranpo was telling him about. Which wasn’t helped when Ranpo would jump and change topics like nothing else; he wasn’t kidding either, there’d been one day where he and Ranpo had travelled to the kids hometown, and one moment he’d been listening to Ranpo tell him about the town and everyone that lived there, and the next, they were talking about cats and how Fukuzawa should totally let them have a cat. Apparently, Ranpo had spotted a cat through the train window which was what prompted the topic change, but it had still been so sudden that Fukuzawa hadn’t known how to react, and had just stared until Ranpo got upset at thinking they weren’t being listened to.

So yes, Fukuzawa listened, but sometimes he did miss things.

At some point while Ranpo was talking, a waitress brought their food and drinks to them, and without missing a beat, Ranpo shoved food into their mouth and kept talking.

“Ranpo, don’t talk with food in your mouth.” Fukuzawa scolded gently, interrupting Ranpo’s tangent about some comic book series—one that Fukuzawa had picked up from a second hand store when Ranpo’s last shut down episode had resulted in them not leaving the bed, or their room, for three weeks straight—that they’d become obsessed with.

Ranpo pouted, but did as asked, and finished chewing before they spoke again. “I don’t get why people kick up such a fuss about eating and talking at the same time. As long as I’m not spitting food everywhere, why does it matter?”

“It’s just the polite thing to do. And it’s also a health hazard.” Fukuzawa explained as he sipped at his coffee. “If you talk and chew at the same time, you risk choking.”

“Oh.” Ranpo paused. “That’s stupid. Just don’t choke on your food.”

Fukuzawa chuckled. Of course Ranpo would come to such a conclusion. “It’s not as simple as that, but no mind. Just eat your food, and drink your drink.”

“Why?” Ranpo asked as they shoved another piece of meat into their mouth, chewing slowly. “Are we doing something else today?”

“I have a job to do this after—”

“Do I get to come?” Ranpo interrupted, mouth bulging with rice, and looking excited as they leaned over the table and invaded his personal space. Fukuzawa raised a hand and placed two fingers against Ranpo’s forehead, applying just enough pressure for Ranpo to get the hint. The kid looked sheepish then, and sat back in their seat. “Do I get to come?”

Fukuzawa made a show of looking thoughtful, bringing his coffee to his lips, and taking the longest sip he could get away with. He smiled behind the cup as Ranpo shifted in their seat, and tapped their fingers against the table. Three… two… one—

“Come on, Fukuzawa-san! Do I get to come or not?” Ranpo whined, throwing themselves against the table. “Don’t make me use my ability!”

“Yes, you are coming, Ranpo. They asked for you specifically, in fact.”

Ranpo’s eyes flicked open. “Really?”

Fukuzawa nodded. “Really. It’s not until this afternoon that we have to meet with the client, so we don’t have to rush.”

“We aren’t going shopping are we?” Ranpo asked, eyes narrowing; the reaction didn’t surprise Fukuzawa in the slightest, and he was quick to shake his head.

“No. But I did hear that the next book in that series you love so much dropped, but if you don’t want the copy that I had put aside for you, then we can just go home.”

“No, no, I want that book.” Ranpo grinned. Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow, and Ranpo sighed. “Please.”

Fukuzawa leaned back in his chair and placed his arms into his sleeves, letting his eyes slip shut for a few seconds before he opened them again, a small smile on his face. “With manners like that, how can I say no?”

“What is this? ‘Pick on Ranpo day’ or something?”

“It is actually, did you miss the memo?”

“Fukuzawa-san!”

“I need to pee; I’ll be right back!”

Those were the words Ranpo had left with him as they’d dashed from the table in the direction of the bathroom, and he’d watched the kid carefully until the door was safely shut behind them. And once it was, he leaned back in his seat and waited, mentally plotting out the rest of the day. First, they would stop by the bookstore and get the book, and then perhaps he would take Ranpo to a nearby park and let the kid run wild for a bit. Because as smart and intelligent as Ranpo was, they were still a child. And children—in his experience—loved parks. Besides, it would be good for Ranpo to have some time outside in the fresh air.

And after that, it should be time to go meet with—

“Is that you, Ranpo? Oh my, you certainly look better than the last time I saw you. Last time you were just a scrawny boy.” A voice made its way towards Fukuzawa’s ears, a voice that he definitely did not recognize, and he quickly looked for the source. He found it in the form of a man that looked to be a few years older than himself, sitting alone at one of the tables with a smile on his face. Ranpo stood next to the table, looking at the man, but everything from the way they held themselves to the polite smile on their face told Fukuzawa all he needed to know; that this interaction wasn’t welcome in the slightest.

Fukuzawa stood and approached quickly, and Ranpo was quick to look at him, relief in their eyes, and Fukuzawa was quick to give the kid an out. “Are you ready to go?”

Ranpo nodded, and grabbed onto his hand, and together they went up to the counter to pay and then left; the entire time, Ranpo clutched his hand with a death grip, silent as they stared at the ground. Fukuzawa swiped his thumb soothingly across white knuckles but didn’t say anything. He just continued to hold Ranpo’s hand and walk down the street. He didn’t know who that stranger was, but it was clear that Ranpo did, and that was enough for him to be cautious. There weren’t a lot of adults that Ranpo held in positive light—if there were any to begin with in the first place, and while he wanted to ask who that was, he knew better.

Ranpo’s hand disappeared from his own, and Fukuzawa reacted; spinning around to simultaneously grab at Ranpo and shove the man that had dared to grab at Ranpo in the first place. He tugged Ranpo behind him, taking a stance that placed him between Ranpo and the stranger, and he felt Ranpo’s hands clutch at his yukata, and their head press itself into his back.

“Woah, I don’t want trouble.” The man said, holding his hands up.

“Then leave.” Fukuzawa narrowed his eyes, wishing for once that he had his sword, because there was no way that this man would even dare to talk to them if he had his trusty old friend attached to his hip. But he didn’t, so he’d have to go with intimidating this man instead.

“I just want to talk to Ranpo. I helped him out once, so I wanted to see how he’s doing.”

It’s a lie, he’s after something else. Fukuzawa stood tall as Ranpo’s grip tightened even more. He studied the stranger in front of him closely. There was a smile on the man’s face, but there was something in his eyes that Fukuzawa didn’t trust, something… cruel, waiting to be unleashed. But short of incapacitating the man, he couldn’t think of a way to get him and Ranpo away with the man just straight up following them.

“Ranpo is fine. Now if that’s all, we have errands to run.”

“Oh, come on, why are you speaking for him? I know the boy can talk. He has quite the mouth on him after all.”

Before Fukuzawa can say anything, Ranpo poked his head around. “We have errands to run, we’re busy.” The words are quick and short, filled with nothing but apathy.

“Excuse us.” Fukuzawa bowed a little to feign politeness even though he’d much rather launch the man through the nearest wall, and turned on his heel, keeping Ranpo in front of him as he encouraged them to start walking.

They managed not even seven steps before the man called out. “I get it now. This old guy’s your newest play thing, isn’t he?”

Three things happened in that moment.

Ranpo froze, that haunted look that Fukuzawa hadn’t seen in months returning like it had never even left.

Fukuzawa immediately turned around, understanding immediately who this person was to Ranpo, and more than ready to murder him—sword or no sword.

And the man just grinned triumphantly, like he’d won the jackpot at the casino after cheating his way to the top.

“What did you just say?” Fukuzawa spat, worlds filled with a venomous anger he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since his assassin days. Who would’ve thought that all it took to bring that feeling back, was to meet the man that had dared to lay his hands on a child.

“I said, that you’re the boy’s newest play thing.” The man shrugged. “It’s okay if you didn’t know, after all, the boy’s quite smart, so there’s no shame if you did. But if you think he cares about you, he doesn’t; it’s just a ploy to take your money and get in your—”

“You watch your tongue.” Fukuzawa took a step forward, encroaching on the man’s personal space, and felt rather pleased with himself when the man took a step backward. His anger grew with every word that the man spoke, especially when he basically confirmed that he was the one that took advantage of Ranpo before he’d met them. “I know who you are, and you are lucky, that we are in public and that I don’t have my sword, otherwise I would kill you where you stand.”

“It’s hardly my fault when he—”

“Ranpo is not to blame for the actions that you took.” Fukuzawa reached out and snagged the collar of the man’s shirt, pulling him closer until he was right in his face. “At no point, was it okay to take advantage of—”

“Hey! Hey! It was consensual—”

“It doesn’t matter if it was! You are an adult! Ranpo is a child! The only correct answer here is that you should never have agreed in the first place!” Fukuzawa let go of the man’s collar and shoved him away before turning towards Ranpo, who had remained silent the entire time. He paused and looked over his shoulder, glaring. “Dare to approach Ranpo again, and you’ll regret it.”

He didn’t wait for a response; he’d already wasted enough time on this man, more than he deserved, and Fukuzawa was done. He was angry, and upset, and worried, because Ranpo was just standing there like their world had come crashing down before them. Fukuzawa reached out, and gently touched Ranpo’s shoulder, which seemed to spur the kid into moving, and they continued down the path, leaving behind the man.

Ranpo moved fast, faster than they’d ever moved before, and Fukuzawa could see the way that their limbs were starting to shake, the way their breathing was starting to tremble and seesaw, and he knew that panic was well on the way. As they passed an alleyway, Ranpo turned and walked ten steps before they fell to their knees and retched, everything they’d eaten for lunch coming back up. Fukuzawa hovered uneasily, unsure of whether Ranpo wanted to be touched or not right now, but when they gagged and threw up again, Fukuzawa moved, placing a hand on Ranpo’s back and moving it up and down their spine in a soothing manner.

“Just breathe.” Fukuzawa murmured as Ranpo choked and sobbed, tears running down their face to join the mess at their feet. He continued to murmur the words over and over again, hoping to calm Ranpo even just a little. He didn’t dare do more than what he was currently doing, in fear of making Ranpo’s panic worse, but then they did something that Fukuzawa didn’t expect.

They latched onto him.

Ranpo threw their arms around him, and buried their face into the crook of Fukuzawa’s neck, and although the sobs had quietened down, he could still feel the tears as they began to dampen his shirt collar. I have to get them home, now. Fukuzawa dropped down and lifted Ranpo into his arms, holding them like the child that they were, and began to walk. He sped down the streets, expertly dodging passerby’s as he focused on getting both him and Ranpo home. It was close to midday, so the streets were crowded, yet somehow, Fukuzawa managed to get through the worst of it.

Should he have called for a taxi to take them home? Probably. But he didn’t, and he blamed it on the fact that he was worried. This was the first time he’d seen Ranpo react in such a way, and with how tight the kid was clinging to him, he didn’t believe he would’ve been able to convince them to let go long enough for the car ride. It would be fine though, because Fukuzawa was moving fast, and he could already see the street they lived on in the distance, and he picked up his pace just a little so that he was almost jogging.

Ranpo had quietened by the time Fukuzawa was throwing his keys into the door, and at first, he’d thought that Ranpo had passed out from the intensity of their emotions, but the moment they crossed into the apartment, Ranpo shoved themselves away from Fukuzawa, falling to the floor as Fukuzawa lost his grip, and took off down the hall. He called out to Ranpo, but the bathroom door slammed shut a moment later, drowning out his words. Carefully, whilst also making his footsteps audible, he approached the door. He could hear Ranpo breaking down within, along with even more retching, and he felt his heart shatter just a little bit, along with the strong desire to go back and hunt that man down just to eviscerate him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he focused on trying to think about how to help Ranpo in their current state. The bathroom was Ranpo’s safe place—for some unknown reason—and it was where they usually went when they wanted to be alone. But considering this was the worst case of panic that Fukuzawa had witnessed, he was reluctant to let Ranpo try and deal with it alone. He paced the hall, even raised his hand to knock on the door before forcing himself to abort that course of action. Wait… Fukuzawa paused and thought for a moment before he turned and entered his room, heading towards his closet. It didn’t take long to find that hoodie that Ranpo always stole when they weren’t having a good day, and he pulled it out of the closet before he went and entered Ranpo’s room, finding a pair of sweatpants that would hopefully be comfortable enough. It was a little too warm for the clothing in his arms, but Fukuzawa was more than willing to turn the air-conditioning on if it would help.

“Ranpo? I have a change of clothes for you.” Fukuzawa called out quietly as he knocked on the door. He waited patiently for a response, knowing that it could take a moment for Ranpo to figure out whether or not he wanted to open the door, and sure enough, the door cracked open. A single green eye peeked through the crack, before it withdrew and the door opened wider. An invitation, one that left Fukuzawa blinking because it wasn’t the norm. But he tried not to think too much about it as he placed the clothes on the floor by Ranpo’s feet. And then he looked over Ranpo.

Ranpo’s entire face was puffed and splotched with red, and still, they were crying, with visible tear tracks staining their cheeks. The shaking that Fukuzawa had felt the entire walk had eased off, but Ranpo’s hands were still trembling as they clutched at his knees, knuckles as pale as the rest of them. But the worst of it was the look in Ranpo’s eyes; a haunted look that almost made Ranpo appear dead from how unfocused their eyes were.

It made Fukuzawa want to wrap his arms around Ranpo and never let go.

“Do you need anything?” Fukuzawa asked, kneeling on the floor in front of Ranpo.

Ranpo shook their head.

“Water? Something to nibble on?”

Still, Ranpo shook their head.

“Would you like me to stay?”

Another shake.

“Alright.” Fukuzawa stood, slowly. “I’ll leave the door cracked. If you do need me, just shut it, and I’ll come, alright?”

A nod this time.

“And Ranpo?” He waited until Ranpo lifted their head. “My door will be open.”

Ranpo threw him an appreciative smile and another nod before they turned away and curled into a ball. Fukuzawa had force himself into moving, because every instinct of his was telling him to stay by Ranpo’s side to help them through whatever emotions they was feeling. But he knew it wasn’t as easy as that, and that Ranpo needed their own space at times. So, he left the bathroom, cracking the door as he said he would and went to his own room. He would pass the time with some reading.

It was well into the night when Ranpo finally emerged from the bathroom, and it certainly wasn’t a surprise when he heard the footsteps approach his own room instead. In fact, he’d been expecting it, which was why he’d left his door open and the light on. He looked up from his book to see Ranpo with a clean face and in the clothes he’d given them. He couldn’t see Ranpo’s face underneath the hood, but he had some idea of what kind of expression was on it. Placing the book he’d been reading down next to his futon, Fukuzawa shuffled over, and lifted the blanket. In an instant, Ranpo was there, curling up as close as he could, and Fukuzawa lay on his side so that he could draw Ranpo closer and provide a comforting presence for the kid. Once Ranpo was still, Fukuzawa asked. “How are you feeling?”

Ranpo’s head pressed against his chest, and their shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’m not okay.” They croak.

“I would be surprised if you were. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Ranpo shook their head vehemently, and Fukuzawa quickly rubbed at their back to soothe them.

“Alright. Get some rest. And remember, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you again.”

He listened as Ranpo sniffled and comforted the kid when he began to cry again, just holding them gently, until they drifted off to sleep with tears leaking from closed eyes.

For the next three days, Ranpo refused to leave Fukuzawa’s futon, no matter how much he tried to coax them into getting up and sitting on the couch. Every time he asked, Ranpo didn’t respond, just stared into the floor with blank eyes. He couldn’t even get Ranpo to eat; fruits were left untouched and snacks were ignored, and no amount of pleading could convince the kid to take just one bite. Water was quickly taking the same path, but Fukuzawa refused to let Ranpo dehydrate himself, so he put on that stern persona of his and nagged until Ranpo had drunk an entire glass of water.

Had Ranpo cried and lashed out when Fukuzawa had dragged them upright? Yes, yes they had; his cheek was still smarting from where Ranpo’s fist had caught him.

But the next time that Fukuzawa asked Ranpo to drink something, they sat up themselves and drank the glass before turning away from him and going back to sleep.

On day nine, Ranpo finally moved from the futon, sitting at the kitchen table, and nibbling on an apple that Fukuzawa had sliced up. Fukuzawa watched, relieved because for the past nine days, Ranpo hadn’t eaten anything—not even the shake that Fukuzawa had tried to get them to drink—and although Ranpo had certainly gone through longer periods without food, they’d been eating regular meals for months now, and the healthy weight that Ranpo had put on after many months of battling with food, was disappearing.

Fukuzawa’s relief didn’t last long though, because not even ten minutes after eating the apple, Ranpo was hunched over the toilet, throwing it back up. He tried not to let his worry overcome him then, because this was something that he could handle. After nine days without food, Ranpo’s stomach would be sensitive, so next time, he’d give Ranpo one or two slices, and just work his way up from there.

It wasn’t time to worry yet.

It was time to worry when he realized that Ranpo hadn’t been sleeping properly.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed until ten days had passed, but somehow Ranpo had pulled the wool over his eyes and kept that knowledge from him. The only reason he’d discovered that Ranpo had been struggling with his sleep, was when, on the tenth night of this… shut down—or whatever it actually was—Ranpo woke up screaming. Literally.

Fukuzawa had managed to convince Ranpo to sleep in his own bed that night, mostly because he needed to wash the futon, and he’d made a makeshift bed for himself on the floor of Ranpo’s room because their own bed was far too small for the both of them. It was just one night, so he’d thought it would be fine.

It wasn’t.

The scream was loud and terrified, and Fukuzawa flew to his feet the instant it happened, ready to attack and defend his child. Only, there was no one in the room, and Ranpo was stuck in the midst of a dream. He’d shaken Ranpo’s shoulder’s until they’d woken, and the fear on their face, tore his heart into pieces. He’d gone to place a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, to calm and soothe them, but Ranpo had taken one look at him in his half-asleep state and panicked, kicking out as they shoved themselves into the corner of the bed, begging for Fukuzawa to stay away in between the sobs.

“Stay away from me! Don’t touch me!” Ranpo cried, hands flailing as they tried to find something to grab onto and ground themselves with.

Fukuzawa grabbed a plush toy from the floor and offered it to Ranpo. “Okay, okay, I won’t come unless you want me to. But let me get you a glass of water?”

Ranpo snatched the toy and nodded, burying his face into the soft material of the plush.

A glass of water later, and Ranpo was tucked back under their blankets, clearly not sleeping, but at least resting. Meanwhile, Fukuzawa was on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed as he ran his hands through his hair, wondering what he was doing wrong. It’d been ten days of Ranpo suffering and not talking to him, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do to help. It was the most severe shut down he’d witnessed.

But he wasn’t going to give up.

Because Ranpo was worth the effort.

The sixteenth day was when the last of Fukuzawa’s sanity cracked and crumbled.

After sixteen days of not leaving the house, they’d begun to run low on food and other things, and so he’d left the house to go grab what he urgently needed from the convenience store just around the corner. Why he hadn’t just arranged for the items to be delivered like he usually did, he didn’t know—when he asked himself later, he told himself it was because he needed air to clear his head—but he’d left the house after waking Ranpo and explaining that he was just going to the store to grab some things.

Waking Ranpo was his first mistake. Leaving the house was his second.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone—he swore it wasn’t even fifteen minutes—but it’d been far too long for Ranpo apparently. Fukuzawa had returned from the convenience store to the distinct smell of blood, a smell that he was well attuned to because it had once been his job to spill the precious liquid. And considering that the only other occupant in the house was Ranpo, Fukuzawa panicked. He threw the bag from the convenience store onto the kitchen counter as he ran past it, following the smell to the bathroom.

And for the first time in his life, Fukuzawa froze.

He didn’t freeze for long, but it was long enough for Ranpo to notice his presence, and immediately, the tears that were already falling, began to fall even faster, and apologies began to spew from their lips. Fukuzawa grabbed one of the towels from the rack and fell to his knees, putting pressure on the wounds on Ranpo’s thighs.

“It’s okay.” Fukuzawa soothed. It’s not fine, this is not fine at all.

“I’m sorry!” Ranpo wailed, bringing their bloodied hands up to their face. Fukuzawa reached out with one hand to stop Ranpo, gently prying the blade from his hand first.

Fukuzawa’s hands shook as he grabbed a second towel. There was so much blood, so, so much blood, and he didn’t know what to do other than put pressure on the wounds and hope that he didn’t need to call an ambulance. Should I take them anyway? He asked himself, because this, this, wasn’t something he was equipped to deal with. And after sixteen days, he was only just realizing this. Should he have done something sooner? Should he have forced Ranpo into talking rather than waiting like he usually did? Questions like those swirled around his mind as Ranpo continued to cry and wail and apologize in front of him.

He continued to sooth Ranpo as the minutes ticked by, and after two had passed, he lifted the bloodied towels to see the damage underneath them, because in his haste to stop the bleeding, he’d neglected to look in the first place. Stupid, you know better. His movements were almost mechanical as he grabbed a cloth and wet it, using it to wipe up the blood that smeared Ranpo’s legs. How could he have missed this? Why hadn’t Ranpo come to him when they’d started feeling this way? He could feel tears forming in his own eyes as he asked. “Why, Ranpo? Why?”

“I don’t know!” Ranpo wailed, reaching out to grab at the sleeves of his shirt, spreading more blood around. “I’m sorry!”

“I know you are; I know.” Fukuzawa soothed as he gently cleaned around the wounds. Most of the cuts were shallow, and had stopped bleeding, but there were several deeper ones that were still bleeding, and it was those ones that Fukuzawa was worried about the most. “Ranpo, you need help—”

“No, no, no, please, I’m sorry!” Ranpo shook their head. “I’m sorry!”

“Ranpo, I can’t help you.” Fukuzawa could feel his own tears falling now. “I don’t know how to help you through this. I want to, I do, but I don’t know how to.”

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Ranpo continued to say, and at this point, Fukuzawa didn’t know what it was they were even apologizing for in the first place; it could’ve been for the past sixteen days, or it could’ve been for the bloody mess they’d created, but either way, the apologies hurt, because it wasn’t Ranpo’s fault to begin with.

It was Fukuzawa’s for failing to take care of them properly.

And now he had to fix it.

He picked Ranpo up, apologizing when the motion pulled on their injuries, and sat them on top of the counter so that he had hands free to grab the first-aid kit from under the sink. He continued to speak soothingly to Ranpo, telling them that he’d get them help, and that they’d be okay, and all the while, Ranpo continued to cry and apologize.

Fukuzawa began to hush Ranpo as he bandaged the wounds, telling Ranpo that it wasn’t their fault and that it was okay, and his words seemed to soothe them, because finally, they stopped apologizing. Tears still fell down their cheeks, but they were quiet now, chest hitching occasionally as they tried to stifle their crying. Once the wounds were bandaged, Fukuzawa put away the kit and cupped Ranpo’s cheeks in his hand, swiping his thumbs underneath their eyes to brush away the tears. He pressed a tender kiss to Ranpo’s forehead, and they let out another sob, and a quiet apology, before wrapping their arms around his waist.

Fukuzawa returned the embrace, and rested his head on top of Ranpo’s own. “We’re going to the doctor—” He wanted to take Ranpo to the hospital really, but he didn’t know how that would go; at least Ranpo’s doctor knew them— “and we’re going to get you help, okay?”

Ranpo started to shake their head, and Fukuzawa held them just that little bit tighter.

“I know you don’t want to, but this is the one time where I’m not giving you a choice.”

Fukuzawa considered it a blessing, that when he walked into the doctors clinic, completely forgetting that he needed to actually make an appointment in the first place, that Ranpo’s regular doctor had had a cancellation and agreed to see them. In just four minutes, he’d poured out to her everything that had happened over the past sixteen days, and she had listened carefully, nodding occasionally while Fukuzawa rambled.

She was gentle, as she encouraged Ranpo to sit on the bed, and unwrapped Fukuzawa’s harried bandage work, and she didn’t react when she saw the wounds; all she did was pull on some gloves, grab some supplies, and set about cleaning the wounds. Fukuzawa stood beside Ranpo, holding their hand firmly, whilst the doctor cleaned the smaller wounds and stitched up the larger ones before replacing the bandages and giving Ranpo a lollipop.

The entire time, Ranpo didn’t say a word, didn’t even move. It was like they’d retreated in on themselves entirely, doing as they were told, but not actually aware of the world around them.

“We have a psychologist at the clinic that I’d like Ranpo to talk to before you take them home today.” The doctor said as she typed out something on her computer. She paused for a moment to look up at Fukuzawa. “Based upon what you’ve told me today, and taking in Ranpo’s usual methods of coping, I believe it’ll be beneficial for him, and she can help develop a strategy so that what happened today, doesn’t happen again.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?” Fukuzawa asked, glancing over to where Ranpo still sat on the bed, sucking on the lollipop, and keeping occupied with one of the plushies that lived in the office.

“You’re their guardian, Fukuzawa-san, and Ranpo is still a minor, so really, it’s up to you to make that decision.”

“Okay…” Fukuzawa took a breath and returned his attention to the doctor, nodding once. He’d promised Ranpo that he’d get him the help he needed, so that was what he was going to do. “Arrange the appointment… please.”

-----

“Whatcha thinking about, old man?” Ranpo’s voice drew Fukuzawa from the memory, and he looked up to see them standing in front of him, hands on their hips. “Wait, let me deduce it—oh, you were remembering last year.”

“I was.” Fukuzawa nodded and stood from his seat, forcing Ranpo into taking a few steps back. “I was looking back on how far we’ve both come since that time. When did you get back?”

“Just now. Saeseki-san dropped me off because I was her last appointment. Said to send her regards, blah blah, the usual.” Ranpo said, as they followed him to the kitchen, bouncing ahead to raid the fridge for snacks. “She wanted to know where I got this dress as well, so I told her. I didn’t want to, but I did, but if I see her wear it at my next appointment, I won’t be happy. It’s mine.”

“I doubt that she will, so you don’t need to worry.” Fukuzawa nudged Ranpo out of the way, passing them the plate of watermelon that he’d cut up just before when Ranpo had been at his weekly appointment with the psychologist. He’d figured on a day like today, where humidity made one’s clothes stick to their skin—or in Ranpo’s case since he was just wearing one of his summer dresses, just gain a sheen of sweat across his skin—that Ranpo would appreciate the gesture. And if the way that they immediately began to munch on a slice was anything to go be, it was appreciated. “How did your appointment go?”

Ranpo hopped up onto the kitchen counter and shrugged around a mouthful of watermelon before they swallowed and spoke. “Same as usual. Asked me how I’ve been feeling, asked me if I’ve had any trauma responses, asked me if I’d left the house—which obviously I had because I was there…”

Fukuzawa listened as Ranpo continued to chatter, nodding, and adding his own comments when Ranpo gave him the opportunity to actually speak. As Ranpo continued to talk, Fukuzawa continued to move, grabbing out all the ingredients he needed for dinner that night and setting about preparing them. Ranpo made no effort to get off the counter, although they did move over a few inches, so, that was something.

He was cutting up the chicken when Ranpo suddenly changed the topic. “Saeseki-san wants you to come along to next week’s appointment as well.”

“Why?” Fukuzawa paused in his cutting and glanced over. Usually, Ranpo’s therapist would call him to give him updates on Ranpo’s progress; the only times he’d ever met the women had been at Ranpo’s first appointment just over a year ago, and two months ago, when Ranpo had nearly relapsed—nearly, because Fukuzawa’s gut instinct had kicked in and he’d run off the job early to get back home, only to find Ranpo in the bathroom, unharmed, but nearly not unharmed—so he was a little concerned as to why she would want to see him again.

“She wants to do twice weekly sessions for a bit, and she needs your permission.” Ranpo admitted quietly, after hesitating for several minutes.

Alarm shot through Fukuzawa, and Ranpo was quick to notice, raising their hands to try and calm him before he could start to panic.

“You don’t need to worry! We’re just about to start… working through, that part of my life… you know, the one you were remembering just before.” Ranpo dropped their head to stare at the floor. “She’s worried I might react badly since it’s taken us so long to get there, so she said it’s just a precaution.”

Fukuzawa remained silent for a moment, seemingly frozen in time before he nodded. “Alright then. I’ll clear my schedule.” He paused for a moment before dropping the knife and stepping over to draw Ranpo into a one armed hug.

Ranpo blinked before they returned the gesture. “Why are we hugging?”

“It’s my way of saying that I’m here if you need. Since you got tired of me saying it.”

“Well, yeah, you’ve said it a hundred and twenty-four times in the past year, of course I got tired of it.” Ranpo rolled their eyes and suddenly hopped off the bench. “Do you need help with dinner?”

“And have you burn our house down? No thank you. But there’s a present on the table for you.” Fukuzawa said as he went back to slicing up the chicken.

Ranpo gave him a dubious look. “I don’t like presents.”

“You’ll like this one.”

He listened as Ranpo shuffled over to the table, and had to stop himself from turning to stare as he heard Ranpo open the envelope he’d left there. He could tell that Ranpo was reading it, and he knew the moment that Ranpo finished reading it, because he had exactly three seconds to drop the knife before Ranpo threw themselves at him. Fukuzawa managed to shuffle them over to the sink so that he could wash his hands and dry them before he ran one through Ranpo’s hair. “I told you you’d like it.”

“He’s really gone?” Came the muffled question.

Fukuzawa nodded. “He’ll be going to prison for life. With no chance of getting out. Personally, I would’ve rather seen him killed—”

“You wouldn’t want his blood on your hands.” Ranpo interrupted and then looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

Fukuzawa’s eyes softened and he held Ranpo closer. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

“How did you and the police catch him?”

“We staked out the streets that had… children who would be of interest to him, and one of the officers caught him as he was trying to lure a child. I identified him, and he was pretty quick to spill everything once he recognized me, and they arrested him.” Fukuzawa explained, running a hand through Ranpo’s hair again when they shuddered in his arms. And then his voice turned soft, softer than he’d ever spoken to someone before. “You won’t ever have to see him again.”

He heard a sniff, and held Ranpo for a while longer, until they moved to pull away. Despite their red eyes, there was a smile on their face, one of pure joy and relief that brought a smile to Fukuzawa’s own face. To him, it finally felt like the last piece of the puzzle that was Ranpo’s life had fallen into place, and despite how devastating the kid’s past may be, Fukuzawa wouldn’t have them any other way.

Because Ranpo was his child and it was as simple as that.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #heavy angst #angst #tw self harm #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #fukudad #hurt/comfort #comfort #writing #fanfic

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otomefiend · 1 year ago

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Hello! Thank you so much for your translations! I hope you're doing well.

Please, if you know by chance, can you explain me Alfons's behaviour in Elbert's route?XD The certains phrases made me to write you because I just really can't understand this person.

In chapter 24, there was a moment when Elbert was asking Alfons to give him a key from warehouse (where mc was). And Al was just like "If you hadn't come, I would have been a prince" and "she is mine". OMG Maybe he is Elbert's love rival or just provoking him?? But why? I really don't get him.

I don't speak Japanese and I'm using google/deepl translators))

Hello dear Anon!

Thank you for your kind words. 💙

Al is very cryptic on the best of days but let's have a little gander at that scene.

Spoilers below the cut (a short summary of that scene with a few thoughts of my own). Lots of words, so apologies in advance. 😅

~~~

Elbert is desperate to know what happened to Kate, to which Al answers in his own humorous way that he locked her in a dark warehouse where she's waiting for her prince to come and save her. El first questions the choice of venue but pretty quickly concludes that Al did it to protect her. Al, of course, is pretty miffed with the amount of trust those two baka kiddos have in him and obviously would never be caught red- handed saying such a thing. He's the type of guy who would never admit to being your bestie, even though he'd kill for you without thinking twice.

What does he do next then? He holds the key to the warehouse without handing it to El. He clarifies that he locked Kate up cause she was in the way (yeah yeah, this is the closest we'll get Al to admit he did it to keep her out of harms way) and he'd leave her behind if not for Jeffrey. Elbert tells Al he's a stinky liar and thanks him for protecting Kate. Then, he asks Al for the key, wanting to go straight to Kate. Al stays silent and withholds the key (measuring El's intentions? Going with his own whim, as he likes to say?). El seems puzzled to which Al says that one wrong move would have led to Kate's heart being taken by Jeffrey. Might be a little nod to the fairytale where the Queen asked for the Snow White's heart as the proof of her demise. Might be Al's humorous way of speaking since he likes to make light of serious things. Kate's heart is a motif that was brought up earlier during her deal with Elbert. It definitely speaks to El's curse. I thought this line was very apt. It's clearly a warning directed at Elbert. Al smiles and El answers that "he knows/ understands it".

Then Al brings up Elbert's nightmare and states that the latter clearly hasn't dealt with it yet. (Moments earlier he had a conversation with Kate where he revealed the purpose behind El's trip, that El himself was withholding from her. He also stated to El/thought to himself the day before that Kate is stronger than El gives her credit for and that he should come clean with her about his darker urges. I'm making an educated guess that he wants both El and Kate be on the same page when they're making decisions about their relationship).

Al then follows with the challenge "As you're hesitating, scared you'll hurt her yourself... are you okay with someone else snatching her heart?" and he clearly elicits a reaction from El with that statement. (I love how this scene depicts their complex but close relationship.) "If you hadn't come, I would be the prince", "Even now, if (as long as) I don't give you this key... she belongs to me." Again, he seems to appeal to Elbert's greed since he refers to snatching the heart and possessing it.

Al then steals Victor's schtick by saying that "It was all a joke" (which always makes everything seem more sus, lol), then gives El directions to the warehouse. When finally alone, he concludes "Just as I thought, you wanted to give up on your desires." "Don't you think this is enough push/encouragement?" Followed by a lonely sounding laugh. 🤧 (the woes of your bestie getting a gf)

So to answer your question, Al seems to be provoking El. Why? So El finally stops hesitating and comes clean about his hidden desires and his darker deeds. Al cares about him and wants to help in his own way. Even if it'll lead to something painful in the end. We will never know what exactly lies in Al's heart (in this route). He's very cynical about love yet seems to love El in his own way. He also seems to have a soft spot for Kate (love their scenes but I pretty much love anything Al related so it's a given), partly because of Elbert and maybe because she reminds him of El? Or maybe because of her outlook and determination? Who knows.

~~~

#anon ask

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morganaux · 1 year ago

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@rose-from-ashes (Continued from here!)

Heart skipping a beat as he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway, Morganaux closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as he tried to calm himself. There had been plenty of times when he had dealt with potential suitors on his rare visits home, but never had he been faced with such a serious arrangement before. He had tried to think nothing of it in the days that led up to this meeting. He had spent little time dwelling upon this mystery man and what his intentions might have been, planning to playfully dismiss him like all the others who had once tried to win his heart, but in that moment, he wasn't sure what he felt.

Before his visitor set foot into the sunroom, he did what he always did whenever his anger, his sorrow, his fears began to slip out from beneath the surface— and with a gentle fwoosh of aether, he wove a glamoured smile on his face. By the time ser Forgettable de Durendaire stepped into the doorway, Morganaux was the very picture of serenity, leisurely popping a macaron into his mouth as he looked the man over from head to toe.

"That would be me," he answered, gaze locking onto the bouquet the other held. Curiosity, light, and friendly intentions was the meaning the man had intended to convey, from the looks of it. Either that, or he had simply gotten lucky with the flowers he chose and just so happened to put together a somewhat thoughtful-sounding meaning with it. But then again, most of the men who brought him flowers without care for their meaning would have chosen the simple route of bringing red roses. The message that the bouquet conveyed was far too fitting to be a matter of coincidence, and the choice of flowers far too unique, and so, Morganaux supposed he would give this man a chance instead of outright dismissing him.

Eyelashes fluttering, he lifted up a hand to beckon the other over, though he made no move to make room for Emelian to sit beside him. There were many subtle ways he could judge a man's character before they revealed their true colors, and this would be one of a few tricks he had learned to test the waters. Would he be a gentleman and ask to sit with him, or would he push his skirt out of the way and make room? Or, Halone forbid, would he be oafish enough to sit down on his skirt, crushing his favorite petticoat in the process?

"'Tis a pleasure to finally meet you, Emelian," Morganaux greeted, reaching up to adjust the hairpin— a cluster of peach blossoms— that adorned his head. "It seems I might be in the presence of another fluent in the language of flowers. Tell me, what sort of flower am I wearing, and what meaning have you gathered from it?"

#morganaux.txt #rp replies #apollo asunder (wol verse)#rose from ashes #((morgy and his weaponized etiquette lmao))

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vobomon · 2 years ago

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Timelines and Clocks

It is said that there are many different timelines and routes that are possible for a single soul to take. it all depends on their choices in life and the decisions they make along the way. But what if the universe was locked onto one specific route? Despite all the millions of timelines that exist... what if a glitch occurred in the system? What would the universe do to erase this abnormality?

His clock begin to tick down to his demise the moment he met the girl known as Meryl Stryfe. “Hello, I’m your new partner! Staring today we’ll be working together! I hope we can get along well!”

At the beginning, they were close-- believe it or not. He called her Meryl from their first meeting. He was a good mentor and showed her the ways of being a reporter. She smiled and he would smile back.

And so, the universe killed him at Jeneora Rock.

But he woke up again. He met Meryl again. He still called her “Meryl Stryfe” and inevitably walked his way to his demise at Jeneora Rock again. There came a point that he lost count of the times he had died at Jeneora Rock. It was always a different death that he couldn’t prepare for. By the time he had lost count, Roberto had taken his first sip of whiskey.

When he had successfully survived past Jeneora Rock, Roberto began to relax again. Until they met the Undertaker. He shot him in the back; made it look like an accident. So he chose to not trust the Undertaker in the next timeline.

The worst death was being digested by those god-awful worms. By that point, he started smoking cigarettes to ease his nerves.

He stopped calling the girl as “Meryl” because he never knew how long he’d last in a specific timeline. He distanced himself. He became an alcoholic because it became too much... he was overcome by paranoia over each choice he made.

Every step he took could spell his demise because the universe was quite literally against him.

His clock continued to tick and when they found Vash the Stampede tied up in the desert, he felt a shiver go down his spine. Oh no, its going to happen again. And he couldn’t escape his fate.

He was very careful.

Ever so careful.

Each step along the way, he made with precision.

By the time they got to July City, Roberto could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. He had never gotten that far before. And then--

“I was just unlucky,” He tried to speak through the blood in his teeth. Yeah, right. He had to be the most unlucky man in the universe because everything was out to get him and he knew it all before setting foot on this path.

Meryl cried, just as she always did whenever he died. But he couldn’t leave her with nothing. “Take it.” He handed her the gun. She was derringer Meryl; the universe knew this. So he had to set the record straight before leaving this timeline.

“Follow your heart,” he smiled. “Meryl Stryfe.”

It felt good to say her name again. Maybe in the next timeline, he won’t distance himself from her. Maybe she’ll like that.

He closed his eyes, knowing he’d open them again very soon.

See you soon, Meryl.

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun spoilers #roberto de niro #meryl stryfe

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08theverysmallhuman · 2 years ago

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Absolutely annoyed whenever ppl ask why Kira got kicked out of blue lock so early when someone like Igaguri didn’t…. Like! The whole point is that yeah, Kira is the better player! But he’s not an egoist and that’s what got him out! Igaguri may not be the best player but he’s an egoist, and embodies those values(frankly as much if not more than anyone there). That’s what’s keeping him in. Blue lock is about skill, yes, but above all its about being a stone cold bitch!

The fact that they don't have any other justification for wanting him back other than Igaguri being "ugly" or "not as talented" is the main reason I don't look at bllktwt outside of spoilers anymore

Because despite Kira being exposed as a two-faced cunt motherfucker whose egoism extends to acting shiny and righteous to preserve the image he uses to put down players he deems lower than him, the face wins overall

Igaguri is not and has never been a player that is going to be showcased as someone to beat, someone who can lead a team, someone you want on your side going up against a tough team but he knows his worth as a great player. Not superhumanly good, not yet on par with the greats of the world that his teammates are slowly surpassing but he Has the talent and the drive to keep going regardless

What ticks me off other than the blatant bias against Igaguri is that they then bring up Isagi's choice to leave him be as a Mistake despite That Singular Choice being a pivotal moment in Isagi's development! It is the first time we see him break away from the pattern hammered into him by his old team and start valuing himself as Someone who could Become the World's Best! It is the Literal Moment that establishes him as the MAIN CHARACTER. AND THEY WANT TO THROW THAT AWAY FOR THE BLONDE PRETTY BOY BECAUSE EW EW WHY THE CHEATING BALD GUY

Not even mentioning Bachira's involvement and consequent development in it! It is the Second we see him really See Isagi as the One he's been waiting all his life to play with It is The Moment That Ties Them Together It is What initially drives him to start having fun playing soccer again It is what SETS ISAGI APART FROM THE REST OF THEM, WHO WOULD'VE LAUNCHED THAT BALL AT THE PLAYER DOWN AND WAITED DOWN THE SECONDS.

I've already written the hypothetical up there but You Know For A Fucking Fact. That even If Isagi HAD taken the easy route.

Bachira would've still taken that ball.

He's still going after the strongest player. He's still going to try and take him out and he'll hit Kira, who at the time was right By Isagi, and there'll be seconds left to score and either he'll blank out in those final seconds again, or he won't, and Isagi would be the one on the floor. And Bachira has no reason to look at him twice.

This isn't even about Igaguri to me anymore it's just blatant disregard for Isagi's choice despite it being a crucial point in the plot that shows off his ego as someone aiming for the Top. They're completely removing the reason he was chosen for blue lock to fit a guy into a team that would absolutely not work with Kira in there.

#will have to thank them. it is because I loved him out of spite that i now love him for real #blue lock #08.text #spiteposting #08replies

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thatfangirlofsb · 1 year ago

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A/N: Third part of Your highness. I hope you like it, difficult things are coming (if there isn't any difficulty... I think it's not my fanfic hahahaha).

T/W: Grishaverse spoilers. Smut (I don't know whether to consider it light or not, so I leave it to your choice).

Your highness (III)

If his hands weren't handcuffed to the bed, he would have tucked that rebellious black lock that fell over her forehead behind her ear. But Zoya had been wise enough to keep a spare set of handcuffs in her room, even though it was the first time they'd ended up doing it there.

That had always been a forbidden place, mainly thanks to the squallers grisha who could spy on what was happening miles away simply by summoning. But that night he hadn't thought of her for that. Nikolai's intention was to keep her away from getting sick, because he knew Zoya didn't care about it, and to relax. Then it turned into another wild night of their bodies colliding. Of course he loved it, the sex between the two of them was something magnificent, although those moments of pure closeness had been the first thing he was looking for with the appareance in her room.

Zoya was still asleep, surely undisturbed by those thoughts that tormented the king at that hour, and resting against his chest, breathing softly. They were on the bed, the last place where they had done it and the only one where the squaller let him finish. If her intention that night was to punish him with those actions for entering her room without permission... she had succeeded, but he also loved it.

There was still a slight trace of water on her torso, which she used to clean off the mess that the blonde had left on him with his cum. He wanted to pass his tongue along that route, but it was impossible with both hands handcuffed. Then his gaze fell on her belly, and a stupid idea popped up. What would have happened if she was the pregnant one and not Alina? What if she was her betrothed and not the sun summoner? Zoya was also a powerful grisha, and a great choice for a political marriage with someone from the Second Army, but…was it just that to him?

He had lived everything with her; the bad times, the good times, happiness, sadness, special situations, everyday situations, the best tea, sex without love... would the latter be true? Nikolai, certainly not as much as Zoya, had an experience in bed that, looking back on it now, made him see differences from before the grisha.

Previously, he had a large number of lovers and sometimes even at once, but with Zoya that number had been reduced to only her.

Before he would have left after a few touches and loving words, but with her he wished to never leave her side.

In the past, he hadn't noticed faces so much, but with her he kept every expression she made locked in his memory.

Before, he dedicated himself to always do the same thing. But with the squaller, he paid close attention to how her body answered to know what he would need to repeat or something new he would have to do.

"What are you thinking about?" Zoya's sleepy voice stole his thoughts, and he looked at her with a smile. "And don't tell me 'nothing'."

She knew him too well, and that made him feel strange. There were very few people, even sometimes he considered her the only one, who knew so much about the real Nikolai.

"I wasn't going to say that."

He stared at her, as if he could hold her tight without worrying about the handcuffs. He loved those moments when she, still asleep, didn't remember to put on her armor and her inside came out. She still was Zoya Nazyalensky, the hard and cold general, but her words and tone seemed more sincere and liberating; as if a great weight was being lifted off of her.

"Nikolai..."

Her eyes were half open, still dancing between the fine line that separated her from sleeping and waking. That image was lovely, and he would have had it painted on a small replication so he could look at it before he went to sleep if it weren't for the murderous glare she would have given him when she found out.

"Yes Zoya?" Damn chains. He wanted so badly to caress that face while telling her all the positive qualities she had, even if the blue-eyed girl said otherwise.

"What time is it?"

He bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. His vast imagination thought she was going to say something romantic or even about the great sex they had, but he didn't expect her to ask the time.

"I think I recently heard the eighth stroke."

The squaller's back jerked upright and her eyes widened, letting the king see a glimpse of that beautiful blue.

"Get up, now."

Confused, he watched as Zoya almost jumped out of bed, and would have laughed at her actions if he hadn't seen her naked body emerge from between the sheets. That stroke of desire appeared again.

"Zoya...there's no rush." But the squaller seemed to think otherwise, running to the closet and pulling out some items of clothing to start dressing quickly. When she finished, she ran to remove the handcuffs without kissing him; disrupting their daily routine. Nikolai was still stretching, sitting on the bed. And Zoya seemed to see it, because she showed him a killer look before running off to the tub area and coming back with his soaked clothes to throw them at him. "Hey, that hurt." With another of her glances, it was enough for him to shut up for a few seconds. "It's soaked, how do you want me to...?

The grisha was already in front of a small dressing table, combing her hair, with a disgusted face when she saw that it was a nest. And Nikolai, not getting an answer, got up and dressed without caring how the fabrics attached to his body.

It was a very bad idea to get into the bathtub dressed and also, when he took off his clothes, to leave them so close to the tub that the splashes caused by their movements fell on it. When he finished, he carefully approached her from behind and placed his hands on her shoulders. It seemed that with that simple touch the grisha relaxed, because she put the comb down on the small wooden plank and looked at him through the mirror.

Nikolai took the opportunity to grab the brush and begin to comb her hair gently. Zoya closed her eyes, but with her slightly raised hands she began to summon a flow of air that gradually dried the blond's clothes. He smiled and, trying to do his best, ended up imitating the grip on her hair that she made with that blue bow that he loved.

"Thank you." She opened her eyes and stood up, leaving the boudoir free for him to get ready as well. "Genya is coming soon to bring me the new ointment. You will say that we came here early to check some things. Understood? And if she asks, leave everything to me"

"Understood."

And there was no more kisses, no touches, no more sighs. They only dedicated themselves to prepare what would be a table with many papers, pretending that they had been working.

The time came and someone knocked on the door. Zoya walked over to it, while Nikolai sat in one of the chairs that had been placed, and opened it.

"I hope this one works, Genya." The person in front of her eyes wasn't the redhead, but the half shu. And to her right, there was the one with orange hair. "Alina?"

"I already told Genya. I think..." She looked, slightly surprised, over the shoulder of the squaller. "Are we all here? Great, so we can start the meeting."

Zoya stepped away, rolling her eyes for a few seconds, and when the two passed, she closed the door from the inside. She had nothing to worry about, now she just had to act.

"A busy night?"

If she had been drinking something, she would have spit it out in surprise. What was she referring to? Saints, other than... him and me. She tried to appear calm and, sitting down on her chair, looked up at her.

"What are you taking about?"

"About the ripped curtains and the water all over the bathroom floor?" Genya laughed slightly, seeing how Zoya couldn't hide her expression of surprise when she turned her head towards the place she pointed. "Who was the lucky one?"

"Well..." Quick, tell her about someone who isn't blonde and has a sense of danger; something as the complete opposite of Nikolai. "A mediocre man." Genya wiggled her eyebrows slightly, urging her on as Nikolai looked up from the papers and everyone took a seat at the table. "Good with words." The king looked at her doubtfully, not knowing how to react to that. "Acceptable in bed."

"It doesn't look like it Zoya, see the mess." And that's when Nikolai knew his life was hanging by a thread. It was clear to him that he shouldn't speak, the squaller told him not to; but he, even so, decided to open his mouth that hours before had dedicated to test the body of the blue-eyed woman inch by inch.

"That he was mediocre has nothing to do with me being one too."

And he knew that was true. The least Zoya was in bed was 'mediocre'. But he decided to tease her a little more. Nikolai still remembered how she had stopped his orgasms so many times, causing him to spill over her with such outpout that he almost fell from exhaustion.

"Then tell us, Zoya." He rested one of his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his palm, looking at her as if she was the most interesting thing in the room; and she was.

"Yesterday it seemed that you hated each other and... and now you get along so well that you even talk about your hookups?"

Alina's face turned to Genya, asking her for some kind of explanation. She only raised her shoulders slightly and spoke for a bit.

"Happens often." Her indifferent gaze passed to Zoya, beginning to look at her with a somewhat strange smile. "You have the bow do it wrong and you don't wear mascara."

"I had to help the boy escape through the window." Zoya said, trying to be indifferent to the tailor's heavy eye and her own forgetfulness when she got nervous. How could she have been so stupid to forget about the damn curtains and the bathroom? "I haven't slept much Genya, so stop with your questions and let's get back to what interests us. The little gift that Alina brought us." When everyone was seated, Zoya's hands rummaged through a stack of papers, and with a big smile, she pulled out what she needed. "Here is all the preparation for the near-wedding with the princess of Shu Han. We can change a few things and use it to arrive on time in a week."

"One week?" Genya asked completely surprised. "A wedding can't..."

"If you want, we can wait to fix the dress because she doesn't fit in anymore." The squaller looked very serious at everyone. That wasn't a joke, Ravka's stability was at stake. "And when they're born I want only you to see them, Genya. If they turns out like their father... make them shu as possible."

"I'm only half shu."

"And give them Nikolai's eyes." Zoya sighed, somewhere between angry and sad. She didn't know what she had gotten herself into, but it was very difficult to be a friend and a general at the same time. "We want a real baby, not go from an Oretsev bastard to a shu."

"It's not..."

"Alina." She lifted her gaze from the papers to the summoner. She had no longer seriousness or fury, but compassion. It was clear that all of them were going to suffer, each one in a different way, with this situation. But the most one was going to be Alina, she had the engine of all growing into her. "Now we have to forget about reality and think of the worst. If they look like Mal... we already know what happens here when you consider a heir a bastard. Now that's the biggest of our problems, so pray to yourself to make that baby look like you." She got up and gave Genya the papers she had held in her hands earlier. "This is all about the wedding, you're the best fit for the position."

She started to walk, but the redhead's arms around her made her stop. Why was she hugging her?

"Triumvirate embrace."

Genya's whisper made her smile. Alina quickly joined in, and then Nikolai's voice sounded.

"May I?"

Zoya rolled her eyes, but the other two girls nodded their heads. Soon the king joined in, adding his arms to the mess of limbs already between the three of them.

"We'll get through this." Genya said.

"Yeah." Nikolai and Alina agreed at the same time, with a more cheerful tone than necessary.

"I have my doubts." Zoya's voice made everyone but her laugh. "It is not funn... who stepped on my foot?

—————

You can read first part HERE.

You can read second part HERE.

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ace-angel-judas · 1 year ago

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Synesthesia

→ pairing: Ash Island (Yoon Jinyoung) x Baby

→ genre: Blind!au, Idol au

→ contains: Fluff, so much fluff, Ash being a protective bean, main character as synesthesia, soft eventual smut

→ synopsis: Everything had a color, Baby had learnt that while she was younger after becoming blind. Yet during her usual route home, she bumps into a boy whose color changes constantly.

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR - PART FIVE

Warm, it felt warm and safe. Baby couldn’t help snuggle further into her comforter, shifting closer to the warm body beside her. Was this a gamble? Yeah. But something about the streaming colours of this boy made her happy and it was something she hadn’t been in a long time.

Jinyoung himself couldn’t help but snuggle closer as well, looking at Baby’s squished face against the pillow. It smelt like roses in this room, which was a faint scent he got from her whenever he saw her but now that it surrounded him, it was relaxing.

He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her squished cheek, startling her for a moment before she smiled. Neither of them cared for the time, snuggling closer until a blaring sound made Baby scrunch her noise in disgust and Jinyoung was forced to roll over, grabbing his phone.

“Hello?”

Baby snuggled closer to her pillow, she could only just make out the sound on the other end of the phone. They sounded red, strong and mixed in with the rainbow around them both.

“Uh, shi- I mean, yeah, I’ll head to my studio now..,”

She heard the beep of the phone ending followed by a deep exhale. It was the obvious sound of frustration and annoyance, something Baby could sense, the green colour swirling in stronger with the rainbow.

“I got called to my studio,” Jinyoung explained.

“Oh okay,” Baby shrugged softly, cuddling the blanket as she sat up, “At least it’s just across the road,”

“Yeah..,” Jinyoung mumbled, “Do.. Do you want to come with me?”

Tilting her head, Baby slowly nodded before a smile cracked onto her face. Jinyoung couldn’t help but adore the way her cheeks squished up, nose scrunching like a bunny. She pulled herself from the comfort of her bed, pulling her shirt off.

Jinyoung turned quickly, eyes wide with shock as she simply stripped in front of him.

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, “Do you need me to leave the room?”

“Oh..,” Baby tilted her head slightly, “I forget other people can see sometimes but I really don’t mind,”

“I’ll just look at the wall,”

Baby got dressed with ease, Jinyoung smiling at her choice of a bright yellow dress with a pink cardigan over the top. Looks didn’t really matter to this girl, especially in a society that seemed to thrive on beauty.

“You ready?” He asked softly.

“I just need my cane,” Baby explained, walking over to a closer and opening it.

Three white sticks were inside, she reached up and felt each one before she grabbed one out. It had a red band around the middle of it and a small ball at the end. Jinyoung watched as she pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes before reaching out and softly touching his arm.

“You know your way around pretty well,” Jinyoung pointed out.

“Well, everything stays the same,” Baby explained, “You can’t really change much or else I wouldn’t know where everything is, my shoes go in the same place, my canes, my clothes, everything,”

Jinyoung couldn’t help but smile.

–

Walking into the building was a normal thing for JInyoung but sneaking a girl in? Something about it made him nervous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t bought a girl over before but something about this was different.

Punching in the code to his studio, Jinyoung held the door open and Baby softly touched the sides of the door frame and felt her way inside. The cane tapped against a small table before she stopped, unsure of where to walk next.

Jinyoung dashed into action, softly locking their fingers together and guiding her over to a chair next to the studio desk. Part of him felt embarrassed, but Baby simply smiled and guided herself into the seat. Her knees instantly curled up her chest, folding up the cane in her hands.

But the embarrassment didn’t stop there, the door to the studio opening suddenly and a person poking their head inside. Eyes wide, JInyoung turned and looked at the person who had interrupted.

His labelmate and friend, Minkyum, tilted his head curiously before Jinyoung waved his hand, gesturing for the other to leave.

“Is someone there?”

Minkyum tilted his head in confusion, looking at Jinyoung. The rapper was glaring at him, clearly annoyed.

“What do you mean?” Minkyum asked, “I’m standing right here-“

“She’s blind!”

Jinyoung shoved him out of the studio, slamming the door and quickly locking the door. Baby giggled slightly at the sound of the lock, brows furrowing together.

“Are you embarrassed about me?” She asked softly.

“No!” Jinyoung cleared his throat, “No, They can just be idiots sometimes,”

Baby smiled, “I had no idea I lived next to a recording studio, I wasn’t really worried about anything like that,”

Sitting beside her, Jinyoung let out a nervous breath. He could already feel his phone vibrating, no doubt with text messages from the group chat for the company.

“When did you move to Seoul?” He asked, “I mean, you’ve got Busan dialect,”

“Oh, when I was eighteen,” Baby tilted her head, “I’d never been to Seoul and I wanted a little bit of a change,”

“Do you like it here?” Jinyoung asked, staring at her for an answer.

“I like it, it feels different from Busan,” Baby smiled softly, resting her chin on her knees, “And there’s interesting people here too,”

Cheeks red, Jinyoung turned to the computer and quickly typed in his password. Baby listened, hearing the clack of the keyboard as he typed. She softly touched the desk, feeling over the wood slowly. Her fingers skimmed over the edge of it, feeling the point before her fingers reached a cold metal.

“What is this?” Baby asked.

“It’s a sound board, it makes different sounds,” Jinyoung explained, “Kind of like a drum kit,”

“Oh,” She nodded slowly.

“Do you listen to music?” He asked.

“No really, I need to rely on sound to get around,” Baby explained with a soft hum, “I like reading, I sometimes listen to audiobooks, my cousin used to read to me while I lived in Busan,”

Jinyoung perked up, “Your cousin?”

“His name is Minhyeong,” Baby nodded, “He’s.. okay, I also lived with my aunt,”

“What about your parents?” Jinyoung asked curiously.

“Thats a story for another time,” She dismissed the topic, “How did you become a musician?”

“I.. I was on a rap show,” Jinyoung giggled slightly as he spoke, “It was called High School Rapper, I signed with this company after that,”

Baby giggled softly, nose scrunching and Jinyoung had to adore the way little dimples appeared on her cheeks. He was now noticing the dusting of light freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks and nose.

“You’re really pretty..,” Jinyoung whispered without a thought.

“Am I?” Baby responded with a slight teasing tone, “I think you sound beautiful, it’s the most unique sound I’ve ever felt,”

#ash island x original character #ash island x reader #ace: synesthesia #ace: ash x baby

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terris-mayweather · 2 years ago

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Echo VN update #5;

(I’m in tears and crying because I wrote this entire thing and was getting ready to post it, just looking over and seeing if I had any additional thoughts, but my cat jumped on my desktop, turning off the computer, and I lost everything I said and now it seems like wayyyy too much work to repost it. I want to die. I had written so much! T_T OTL)

Wow... it has been a while... Honestly thought I did another of these, but I guess I got swept away in the story. ANYWAY (this one is going to be all spoilers, and a close approximation of what I said previously that was lost to the cyber planescape of the internet, so apologies if it isn’t as deep as I usually wanted it);

I finished Carl’s route! And wow, what a journey THAT was. First, the nightmare dimension was so interesting and strange! It was like a weird, older reflection of Echo! But not like that much older? I suspect it was an echo (hah!) of the town in the 1900s somewhere. Probably post John hanging... Oof. I’m curious why Echo has this dimension/mirrored reality though. I keep getting more and more questions.

Second, I thought it was a very cool aspect that due to being descendants of James Hendricks and John Begay, Carl and Jenna actually got possessed (kinda’)! However the fact it actually happened is horrible and I hate it entirely. John was particularly stabby though. In fact I actually “lost” my first playthrough and chose to grab Jenna instead of pushing her (I was TERRIFIED pushing her would cause her to stab herself). I get so freaking sad when my authentic choices lead to my demise, because then I’m like: ‘Welp! Guess I’m doomed to fail or die in a situation like this!’ *sigh* anyway!

Third, this hysteria/entity thing itself. I don’t think it’s a hysteria at all and is absolutely supernatural in some way, but I am very curious about the expansion of this, and I want to know what happened in the mines, and why this place has a mirrored reality that you can just snap out of! How does this work?! I also wonder if it worsens the negative traits of all the residents here!

Fourth, I actually started Leo’s route now! I’m like 5 hours into it, Thursday, I think. And WOW. This wolf, while wonderful, is absolutely concerning. I’m worried what we’re going to discover about him as the days go by and worsen! =( To quote a fantastic creator: “His fur is red because of all the red flags!” My man’s got some serious issues hinted at, and I’m anxious since he does seem like a good person at the end of things... But things only get worse as we saw from Carl’s route and I’m morbidly curious how this will translate with Leo. But also, WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH CARL NOW THAT WE’RE NOT WITH HIM?! Like the birthday party didn’t even happen this time! At least, not in the same way AT ALL!!! Like Carl got freaking lost! But at least we found out he was okay... enough... We know what else happens and I’m curious of the results when we’re not there!! Also oh my god, FLYNN warning us about Leo? And not being a complete asshole about it for all of three seconds as if he was serious? Like my dude... what is up with Leo? I’m fearing the worst at this point, which sucks because it feels like he and Chase could have a caring and legitimate relationship! I gotta’ say, the character writing in this is fucking legendary. But besides that it is super fun. I’ve also enjoyed meeting Mr. Raccoon man himself, Kudzu! He seems like one those dudes that keep themselves locked in a steel cage to keep other people from getting in, and I’m curious what his story is all about. I’m liking him though, since he seems like one of the only other positive influences around Leo besides Chase and maybe Leo’s family? We haven’t gotten much on that end... Either way, I like mystery raccoon!

Fifth, and also all other assorted thoughts! So one thing I noticed quite substantially is that it feels like the other characters are around a lot more with Leo’s route! I really am enjoying that and the little character moments we’re getting. Like the soccer game with Chase, Kudzu, Tj, and Leo, was so fun and genuinely enjoyable to read through! Those moments of happiness really give me much needed life since it offers insights into what COULD be, if all of these people weren’t so fucked up. OH and then also Clint and Duke. These guys are pretty interesting to the story itself! Meeting Duke was a trip since apparently there’s an otter apparition haunting Leo, which wouldn’t be too surprising except then we find out Duke is also seeing this probable Chase ghost thing! Now THAT is super interesting. Shows there’s some intention behind all of this shit. It’s especially interesting considering this is the same Duke that was sober and pointing at us back in Carl’s route! And that ended with his fucking face being blown off! And Clint is absolutely the worst, but it seems like Leo might be actively trying to hurt and make him feel worse, which makes me wonder a lot more about Leo! But I think that concludes the majority of my thoughts for now! There is so many things falling into places, but yet more questions coming up too!!! Echo truly is a delight and I can’t wait to get into the nitty gritty of everyone!

#terry's echo thoughts #The Echo Project #echo vn #echo leo #echo chase #echo flynn #echo tj #echo jenna #echo carl #cw graphic

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rosemaze-reveries · 3 years ago

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I wanted to explore Mike feeling crushed under a sense of doom at the manor ... and then kiss him (head in hands)

“home again” 🤹

pairing. the acrobat x you pronouns. unspecified genre. hurt/comfort notes. reader is shorter than mike synopsis. love at the end of the world 🌹

He was not just an old colleague.

That thought plagued your mind all throughout dinner. He occupied a very intimate place in your heart, in fact, but the manner in which he presented himself to you would fool anyone into thinking otherwise.

Mike refused to even acknowledge you. No words. No smile. His eyes didn’t sparkle like they used to, and his hair had lost its golden lustre. He wore a long, brown coat of respectable material, but even fine fabric like that looked dreary when pitted against your glamorous memories of him.

Months of grief and dogged investigation had caused his cheeks to sink in, and the first sprigs of a moustache had appeared above his lip. You were struck by his disheveled appearance. If you stared for too long, you feared your emotions might get the better of you. But you still couldn’t look away—a part of you desperately wanted to search for signs that he was the same Mike Morton you once knew.

The remainder of the dinner was silent and severely uncomfortable. But you were determined to get something out of him. So you cornered him after everyone had dismissed themselves, which everyone did very quickly, and had you been a second later Mike would have already locked himself in his room.

“Mike, look at me. Please.” Your pleas were not much of a threat to him, but he obliged you nonetheless. “What happened to you?”

The Hullabaloo incident would have been the obvious answer to your question, but something in your gut suspected there was more. Something to do with the manor. You knew you were the last of the group to arrive here, and the rest of them had apparently been living here for weeks. Something must have happened to have such a harrowing effect on the psyche.

But Mike never answered a single one of your questions. Instead, he kept looking for an escape route. He fingered the doorknob leading into his room, twisting it, letting it go, twisting it again. His eyes still refused to meet yours.

“Can I come in with you?” you asked, gesturing towards the doorknob. That finally got a verbal response out of him.

“...Yeah.”

The first thing Mike did, after the door shut and locked you both inside, was unexpectedly forward of him. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest. For a moment, he stood there with his chin resting on top of your head, before letting out a deep sigh, and then taking a few steps backwards. With his arms secured around you, you had no choice but to stumble along with him.

“Mike,” you murmured against him. “Mike, I’m confused—”

“Stay here for the night,” he said, and that’s all it took for a medley of relief and yearning to wash over you. That one request was evidence that Mike hadn’t discarded you from his heart, and that was all the reassurance you needed.

“I will, always for you, but I need you to explain...”

“I’m exhausted. And I missed you. But I wish you weren’t here.”

“What?”

Mike lowered his lips to your neck, peppering kisses over your skin just like he used to. You shuddered against his touch, battling your desire to simply melt into his arms with your need to hear him elaborate. You wove your hands behind the back of his neck, locking him closer to you. It quickly became apparent that you were going to lose that battle with yourself. His touch, his scent, his voice - all of it was intoxicating.

Mike whispered out your name, once then twice, and then he finally answered you:

“...I just don’t think we’re ever getting out of this place.”

#identity v #idv imagines #mike morton #mike morton x reader #mike morton x you #acrobat x reader #acrobat x you #idv x reader #idv acrobat #idv acrobat x reader

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acdeaky · 3 years ago

Text

out of the blue (3am calls)

warning: mentions of nightmares, implications of PTSD, fluff

note: this is (technically) my other submission for @celestialbarnes’ 4k writing challenge! i chose the prompt ‘bed’ and dialogue 9 ‘“was it the nightmares again?” “no” “you suck at lying”’ congrats again, rachel! and enjoy 🤍

read my other submission here!

word count: 1.9k

“...sorry that i can’t come to the phone right now, but- james?” you picked up, hearing the shaking breaths of bucky’s down the line as he tries to self soothe himself.

“hey,” he sighed down the receiver; you could imagine his metal hand running through his shortened locks, too. “did i wake you?”

“no, no, i’m always awake at...three-fourteen in the morning.” you replied, a teasing tone to your voice as you rubbed your sleep-ridden eyes.

“i just needed to hear your voice,” to ground me, he wanted to say, “i’m sorry, it was selfish.”

“i don’t mind, i wanna talk to you.” you smiled, knowing in a minute or so you’d be leaving the confines of your apartment to walk across the hall to bucky’s.

the other side of the phone stayed quiet for a moment, the only thing being heard was the static of the line. you didn’t want to say anything, knowing bucky usually needed a minute or two to collect this thoughts before he asked you to come over.

his excuse was that he felt like a burden; your response was always the opposite. ever since you had met him, something you always reminded him was that you were there for him, knowing what he had been through. although he was hesitant, the majority of the time you were by his side in the early hours of the morning.

“can you come over? just for a little while?” bucky’s voice was small, quiet, as always when he asked those four words. both of you knew that you’d be there much longer than ‘a little while’, but you didn’t mind when you forever replied,

“of course.”

it wasn’t long before you pulled a hoodie over your head, slipping on some socks before making your way to your front door. you grabbed your keys and opened your door, turning and twisting the lock as quickly as you could.

the hallway seemed darker than usual that night, the chill of the wooden floorboards seeping through your socks and hitting the pads of your feet as you crossed over to bucky’s apartment door. you knocked, waiting for the answer which came only a second or two later.

“i’m sorry.” was the first and only words he spoke as the door swung open.

“it’s okay.” you replied as bucky stood to the side, allowing you to step through the door before he closed it behind you.

the bareness of his apartment always worried you; it felt as if there was little progress happening, but it was. slowly but surely, and bucky knew this, he was just waiting for the right moment to ask you to go shopping with him. help pick out a new sofa, one you found comfortable. maybe even a coffee table, or a dining table so you had a proper place to sit while you ate your various take-outs every week.

it wasn’t like you didn’t see each other enough for him to ask, but he was hesitant; worried you’d say no, that he’d miss judged your friendship, your relationship even, that you were only a source of comfort on nights like this and not a friend who helped make a house a home.

even after that time you’d been with him whilst buying new bed sheets. his mind kept telling him right place, right time, that you didn’t actually want to do that with him, but you’d felt obliged to when running into each other in the store.

he was wrong, of course. your friendship meant the world to the both of you and you adored bucky, but he needed time and so did you. so, your friendship was just that: friends who saw each other the majority of the time, who found any free moment to spend together and who slept next to each other on nights like these...

bucky locked the door behind you before grabbing himself a quick drink, watching your figure as you stepped into the side of the living room and hovered over the blanket and pillow on the floor.

like usual, you said nothing, only following the same route into his bedroom while bucky left his now empty glass in the sink. just as he turned the corner, you were pulling the covers back, pulling off your hoodie and sliding under the sheets.

he watched for a minute, waiting for you to find a comfortable spot with the sheets pulled tightly around your body.

his mattress was cold, still hard, yet comfortable, from when he first bought it. the sheets were soft, too, your choice - of course - colours which you had said complemented his eyes; it was more difficult hiding the blush on his face than you hiding the price tag. he bought them anyway, knowing that you wanted the best for him and hoping that you’d put them to use some time.

and use them you had. there had been many nights since that day which you had spent in his bed, curled up against him as you feel asleep and bucky attempted to. you were the only reason the sheets got washed often; other than you and him on nights like these, nobody else used them.

it wasn’t long before he moved from his place by the door, following your early actions and joining you under the covers. ever the gentleman, bucky stayed on his side while you stayed on yours, him on his back with you on your side facing him.

it took for you to move closer to him, pressing your body into his for either of you to begin feeling any comfort.

the warmth of bucky’s body was a pleasant contrast to the mattress, both of you slowly warming up the longer you were huddled together. truly, you hadn’t meant to lay like this, but after climbing under the sheets next to him for the first time, bucky pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you. as if on instinct, your head laid on his bare chest, a hand resting in the middle of his torso as you shifted onto your side.

there were some delicate whispers from the two of you before you drifted to sleep. your kind words soothed bucky’s mind as he allowed himself to relax and settle back into the pillows; a luxury he rarely let himself have. his allowed you to feel them reverberate in his chest, his low hums acting as a settler for your thoughts.

both of you were asleep moments later.

“was it the nightmares again?” you asked the following night, your back against the headboard of your bed, the bright moonlight shining through the thin curtains you’d forgotten to pull across the window earlier.

“no”

“you suck at lying.” a light giggle came from you, followed by bucky’s unpleased sigh. you were right; he knew it and so did you, but you wanted him to admit it.

“i really don’t.” you scoffed lightly at those words, knowing that he didn’t even believe his own words.

“james barnes, how have you not yet learned that you cannot lie to me? i know you.” like always, there was a teasing tone to your voice, trying your best to cheer him up over the phone, especially when you could just tell that the nightmares were bad tonight.

for a moment, the other side of the phone feel silent, except for some light rustling of covers. you knew he was laid on the floor, blanket on top of and under him. regardless of how many times the two of you had tried, bucky could never find comfort inbetween his sheets unless you were there by his side.

“buck? you still there?” you hadn’t meant for your voice to go so quiet, but you really didn’t want to stop talking to him; you never wanted to stop talking to him.

“yeh, yeh i’m still here-” his sentence was almost cut off by three rough knocks at your door, making you body stiffen.

“hold that thought, buck.” you replied, moving slowly off of your bed and towards your slightly open bedroom door.

“doll, its okay,” he spoke softly, noticing the slight quiver to your voice. “its only me”

“could you not have told me that?” you laughed, speeding up to open the door as to not let him stand in the hallway for much longer.

“hey.” he smiled as the door opened, dropping his phone from his ear before ending the call.

“hey.” you mirrored his smile, doing the same while moving to the side to allow him in. as you shut and locked the door, bucky went through his usual routine every time he stepped into your apartment this late at night. his keys were dropped into the bowl on top of the cabinet by your front door, then he grabbed a drink fro your kitchen that was adjacent to your entryway, and then he met you in the doorway of your bedroom, your arms open and waiting for him.

he gladly accepted the contact, always relying on you to ground him when it felt like he’d been floating for too long. and tonight he had been.

both of you used the minimal light from the moon to figure out your way to your bed, his right hand never letting go of yours until he finally had to. the covers were pulled back from where you had left them moments ago, the sheets now cold.

the two of you laid in your bed moment later, bucky being the first to be settled on his back as you began to be pressed against his side, your head on his chest. along with the curtains, earlier you had left a small window open, allowing the noise of brooklyn at night to seep through to your room. neither of you would be falling asleep anytime soon.

“i love you, buck.” your whispered confession making its way to bucky just before he closed his eyes.

“love you, too.” he replied, not allowing the true meaning of his words to be heard.

“no, bucky,” you sat up, leaning your weight onto your right elbow as your left hand reached out for his cheek. “i love you, okay? i love you.”

there was no words for him. he truly hadn’t expected the weight of your confession and it has shocked him beyond words. all he could think to say was,

“i love you, too, doll.” his shy smile made an appearance, reminding you of the first time you saw each other. with that, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss onto his lips, the corner of his mouth and on his cheek.

bucky’s smile never faltered, only growing wider the longer you planted kisses upon his skin.

after leaving a lingering one on his jaw, you moved back to face him, resting your forehead onto his. “goodnight, baby.” you whispered, pressing one last kiss on to his lips.

“goodnight, doll.” bucky repeated your actions, leaving the both of you in a fit of smiles.

and, just like earlier, you laid on your side, your head resting above bucky’s heart with his vibranium arm around your shoulders. the two of you were asleep a few moments later, the steady beat of his heart bringing about a peace which you always felt around him.

taglist (for people who i think might enjoy this): @forever-rogue @buvky @buckys-darling @barnessupremacy @wallflowerbarnes @bvckysmoon @gryffindorwriter @lokiscollar @propertyofpoeandbucky @buckys-bug @aerynwrites

bucky taglist: @marvel-rhapsody @bloomingbucky

#celestialbarnes’s 4k writing challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #tfatws!bucky #tfatws!bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #x reader #acdeaky

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