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[dreamswritten]

English is not a language I handle perfectly, I apologize in advance if there are any grammatical or spelling mistakes, you are free to correct me.

★. Learning that the water pillar had managed to fall in love and subsequently marry was a surprise to all who knew him, for he is known to have a stoic appearance when it comes to his emotions and his vague interaction with his fellow guild members. Even for him, he had never imagined being married at 21, and coming home after a long week of slaying demons to find a beautiful wife waiting for him with open arms and a wide smile on her lips was a strange feeling welling up in his chest. Always seeing the figure of the lovely woman waiting for him at the entrance makes his lips turn into a smile.

It all began on a cold winter night, about two years ago. The pristine blanket of snow is covered in a thick crimson river as Giyuu shakes his katana wiping away the remnants of blood from a low-ranking demon. A girl with long, slightly messy hair clings to the cold body of her family, her face covered in blood and tears clinging gently to the legs of the water pillar, not caring that her limbs are turning purple from the cold.

—Please… don't leave me…— she pleads, sinking her face between the man's legs.

The man, uncomfortable with the girl's proximity, tries to push her away from him, but to no avail. She clings tightly to his legs. He sighs to accommodate a little the floral print kimono and agrees to let her accompany him, seeing how she followed him like a puppy in search of its owner. Giyiuu planned to drop her off at the nearest town, but something in his heart prevented him from doing so.

Under the shimmering, cool blue sky, as if a painter had mixed the ideal tone with watercolor tablets, the sun rising high above bathing the purple-haired young woman with soft golden brushstrokes as she walked in the direction of the water pillar estate, expecting to be invaded by the emptiness and gloom of the place. What a surprise it was to be greeted by a beautiful woman with hair as dark as night and big eyes as bright as stars, dressed in a delicate light blue kimono with flower prints. Both look at each other with surprise and for a few brief minutes, the woman laughs to clear her voice.

—Excuse my boldness —, he laughs as he smoothes the folds of his clothes—you must be looking for Giyuu, right? —He asks as he lets her pass inside and closes the door behind her—. We don't usually have many visitors, only from the Kamado brothers.

She replies widening her smile and starting to lead the way.

Kocho sings between his teeth nodding to smile back, he stops to look at all the details that decorate the house, making the environment more homey. The woman stops to point in the direction of the man practicing movements with the wooden sword in the garden, accompanied by a spring breeze.

—Giyuu! —The woman approaches him while smiling—. You have a visitor —and waves her hand in a way to get his attention.

The sapphire-eyed young man stops to look in the direction of the two girls, his wife and beside him the insect pillar, who was smiling broadly at him. Tomioka sighs to shake his haori as he approaches them with his stoic face. Shinobu watches the black-haired girl blush heavily as the water pillar stopped beside her.

—Good morning, Tomioka-san. The presence of the pillars is requested for an impromptu meeting.

Without answering, he just shakes his head and turns in the direction the young girl left in a hurry. They both walk in the direction of the entrance, while Kocho prods his ribs for answers. Giyuu stops when he hears the woman's voice approaching with a confused expression as he looks at both of them with a sad smile.

—Are you leaving so quickly?

—It's a meeting.

The purple-haired woman is surprised to hear Giyuu's voice addressing the bright-eyed girl.

—Oh, what a pity —she wrinkles the folds of her kimono—. Please wait here.

She turns to run and quickly returns with a handful of cookies wrapped in a cloth napkin embroidered with flowers and turns to the slayer.

—Here are some homemade cookies, I hope you like them—. See you later —she says goodbye to Giyuu, waving her hand vigorously.

Shinobu holds the small gift in her hands and hums as she looks in Tomioka's direction.

—Tomioka-san, who is that girl?

Tomioka opens her mouth but closes it as she sees the wind pillar approaching them, she looks at the present that was still in Kocho's hands and then at him, misreading the situation. By the cries of the lavender-eyed boy and the indiscreet looks of some people passing by, the young man with a stoic face sighs to continue his way and stop in the garden of the Ubuyashiki family. Before the patron leaves, he smiles and looks in the direction of the sky.

—Giyuu, give my regards to your wife.

—Wife!

The pillar of love, falls down as she is pushed by Uzui's flexed arm product as she turns her body to look at the pillar of water, Tokito contemplates the sky to mutter a lazy, “Whose wife?”, while Himejima clasps her hands together to start muttering mantras for prosperous happiness; Kyojuro exalts himself to tap the boy on the back while Obanai and Sanemi look at him stabbing sharp daggers at his person. Shinobu laughs again.

—So that nice young lady, is she your wife? Tomioka-san

Rengoku turns to look at her, with an expression of confusion and curiosity, shakes his head in the direction of his companion and laughs animatedly.

—Do you know her, Shinobu?

Shinobu smoothes the folds of her haori and smiles, Tomioka straightens up and bows her head in Ubuyashiki's direction.

—On his behalf, with his permission —she replies. He stands up and begins to walk in the direction of his home.

Iguro together with Shinazugawa watch as he walks away and curse him to replicate how much they hate him. The other pillars scan him and form a circle around him longing for answers, the water-breath bearer cringes at receiving so much attention all of a sudden, however, they only managed to get silence from him.

—Congratulations on your wedding. I will pray every night for your happiness, Tomioka —. Gyomei clasps her hands together in prayer and lets out a few tears.

—When can we meet her? —Kanroji speaks, bringing her hands to her flushed cheeks—. I wish we can be friends and she must be very cute.

—Not inviting us to your wedding is not extravagant —. Uzui, who puts her hand to her forehead and smiles.

—Congratulations on your wedding Tomioka! You should have invited us, we are friends after all.

—The clouds are beautiful, —Muichiro contemplates the sky and moves his head trying to give shapes to the unique clouds.

Rengoku smiles at him, patting the haori, the black-haired young man still seems dismayed by the sudden attention of his companions and when they finally left him alone from asking him so many questions, he was able to return to his farm, being welcomed by the warm arms of his wife.

—Welcome home, did the meeting go well?

—Yes, that person sends his regards. -He smiles involuntarily and sinks his face into the hollow of her neck to put his arms around her and press her feminine body against his chest.

—Thank you very much, by the way I prepared salmon with radish, let's eat together, shall we?

Tomioka nods and leaves a kiss on his wife's cheek.

—I love you very much.

[techmomma]

In germany, in the early part of the 20th century, when Jewish families were forces from their homes to either escape abroad or die in concentration camps, they left behind countless valuables. Heirlooms, momentos, mundane objects they bought and treasured, all of which they were forced to leave behind.

Those things were then sold in auction to many, many germans, and now today there are untold numbers of german households that still have the stolen heirlooms of jewish families, some of which can't be repatriated because the entire family, for generations, was killed. Some of which will never be repatriated to living families because all evidence of their theft at auction was destroyed and anyone who could recognize it lives overseas with no idea the heirloom still exists.

Sounds awful, right? Heinous. Hideous. How could any german family with an iota of integrity keep such a blood-stained trophy of genocide?

Guess what.

The same thing happened in America.

We did it to Japanese Americans.

When Japanese Americans were forced into interment camps, they were allowed a single suitcase per person--sometimes per family--to take with them. While the government told them that they would be allowed to return to their homes, this was a "someday" promise, and Japanese Americans knew it was abundantly clear that they were to give up their belongings forever. Belongings they have sometimes taken with them from ancestral homes in Japan, passed down through generations, belongings they'd bought and worked for, heirlooms of spiritual and social pricelessness.

They had to give up houses they would not be able to pay mortgage for, while in the camps. They had to give up apartments they could not pay rent for, while in the camps.

And what did communities do with millions of houses full of beloved family belongings?

You guessed it. Americans put those up for auction. In millions of white american homes are "ancient japanese artifacts" that were stolen from japanese american homes at auction. Whose records have long been lost and those heirlooms will never see their families again, that sit on a mantle with no record that it was originally bought at auction.

There are people who are so, so into Japan, here in America. You know them. Maybe they're reeeeally into anime, maybe they're not. They reeeeally want a katana, they really want "authentic" japanese items to decorate their home with because they really appreciate the culture. And they may have a genuine love and appreciation for it! Maybe you are one of those people. You are trying so so hard to appreciate, not appropriate, the culture.

You go to a shop and see authentic japanese items that are probably a century old. You have a good eye, you can tell these are probably genuine.

There's no ledger for the item. No history of sale. But the shop owner knows it came from Japan because it came from the shop owner's grandfather who bought it at a japanese auction, he says. The owner is noticeably white.

You buy it because you love it and know the general function of the item. And you have now unwittingly bought the family belonging of a displaced Japanese family who will never see it again. Because sure, the grandfather bought it at a japanese auction. A japanese american auction. Something the grandfather knew but the grandchild only heard "japanese auction" and innocently assumed their grandfather meant "an auction in japan."

That is the most benign version of the story. There are more cruel sellers who know well their item came from a japanese american auction and they don't care. As far as they're concerned, they "legally" acquired it, so who cares.

And sometimes there are no records at all because sometimes the buyer came to the auction with a wad of cash, handed it to the auctioneer, and that was that. No documentation made or kept. A handful of cash for an item that a family might have given their souls to get back. Heirlooms passed down for hundreds of years. Knick-knacks made from parent to child six months before they had to give up everything.

And this is so, so incredibly common for japanese items ESPECIALLY here on the west coast. ESPECIALLY in places close to Seattle, Tacoma, San Francisco, San Diego, and Los Angeles.

That is the one of the lesser, subtler evils of racism: they can make you complicit decades after the fact, like ripples that only reach the shore long after the rock is dropped.

[ggomos-maribat]

Soul-Stitching: The Heir and the Guardian

Masterlist

Chapter 1: the assassin and his servant | AO3

CW: Suicide, blood, injury, referenced childhood trauma, mild violence

It is no surprise that the League of Assassins has its own fair share of enemies at its tail. Yet recently, there has been an onslaught of attacks, prompting its members to switch between the network of bases—its young heir is no exception. The third base to house Damian sits between two frosted peaks towering over a Tibetan village, first founded by the demon's daughter herself. Though the instigator of the attacks is unknown, it seems that the abilities of the opposing group is nearly on par with the trained assassins. Damian has scoffed at this piece of information; no one stands at the same level as the League.  

Unfortunately, Damian has been kept away from the frontlines under Talia's strict instructions despite his insistence to fight. Knowing his status, Damian begrudgingly complied to escape and hide. Even if the food is cold and the night wind sometimes sneaks in to bite his bones, he sits still to wait for news announcing that it's safe to return to the main base.   

He sits up on his creaky bed. The ends of the sheets are fraying, and the floors are ice cold, with the gray and brown meshing into a drabby color. The only semblance of a decoration is his twin katanas leaning off the side of his bed frame. It's a far cry from the home he knows, though his routine is mostly unchanged: training from dawn to dusk. But he can tell this day is different. From the commotion happening outside the room and the lingering tension in the air, Damian deduces that another attack is on the way.  

Finally, his thoughts are confirmed when he hears the door open. "Master Damian?"  

He has his back turned to her, his servant, but he can already picture out her presence. An unsteady stance dwarfed in a thick coat, calloused hands wrapped in fingerless gloves, cheeks that have lost a tad bit of their rosiness nowadays, and hair pushed back into twin braids. A child just like him, but raised an assassin nonetheless. "Lady Talia wishes for you to be relocated again. We will use the back tunnel and rendezvous with our guides halfway down the mountains. They will escort us to out—"  

"Where are we relocating to?"  

". . . I don't know, Master."  

She swiftly moves to the side to pack his things. Damian picks up his weapons, biting back the habitual click of his tongue. He's sick of the cycle, feeling like a coward running away endlessly. "And why can't we hold them off?"  

"We do not have enough people. Between guarding the Demon Head and the Pits, and covering all bases . . . The enemies have become too much to handle." Marie ties together the strings of the backpack, before strapping a rolled-up sleeping bag on top.  

"If our assassins are competent enough, we would not be struggling ," Damian hisses.  

The servant doesn't reply, but he catches the twitch of her upper lip. Like him, Marie has been forbidden from fighting the enemies, but she has been helping with the supplies and cleaning, apart from assisting him in training. She should know how weak the League has become.  

"We will leave in five minutes," she says, offering his coat to him.  

"What if I don't want to leave?" 

"I am sorry, Master, but Lady Talia said—"  

"Nevermind what Mother said. I can do it. I can fight."  

Marie's expression changes just a little, and her hand reaches up to clutch her sleeve. He knows that even though she serves under him, she mostly answers to his mother. And defying Talia had greater consequences. It is not the first time Damian has wanted to go against higher orders; Marie has often eased him into not breaking the rules. 

"I think it is better for you to reserve your energy for training, Master. Let the rest of us worry about the enemies." 

"Tt. Grandfather should do something about this."  

When Marie finally persuades him, they venture out to the winding halls. She navigates expertly, avoiding the rings of the gunshots and clashing of swords. Damian knows that they are near the exit when he feels the chilling gust of wind. The rocky snow-topped terrain welcomes them outside—there is only white and gray for miles that everything looks like a lifeless desert. Damian blinks against the sunlight, puffs of fogged breath floating along his vision. In the snowy landscape, Marie looks even paler, as if her skin has become translucent.  

The swords on Damian's back feel heavier too. He has found that fighting in the cold is more troublesome—his joints are hardened, and the blood rushes out of his limbs. The stiffness of his muscles limit his movement and the thin air makes it difficult to breathe. Their escape party is too vulnerable, and if they were to encounter a hostile group, he will have to make the kill quick.  

He glances at Marie every now and then. Her skills are average, and she looks smaller when bundled up. He doesn't miss the way she favors one foot when she trudges in the snow. Though she has been mentored by Talia, she is not like his mother, nor like the other women he is familiar with, like Nyssa or Lady Shiva. She's practically dead weight for Damian. An easy target.  

He doesn't remember when she first started serving under him. He only recalls huffing in annoyance seeing the tiny girl hanging around on the sidelines as he trained, occasionally joining him for a spar. He only knows her as the one who brings his food, supplies him with his secondary weapons, escapes into other bases with him, and acts as his mother's slave. She looks more attuned to the civilians in the towns Damian sees during his missions, not someone who has blood in her hands. Rarely does she show emotion, not even some annoyance or defeat when he easily beats her during practice, not even flinching when the other servants delivered sharp slaps on her arms, not even a hint of awe like when Damian first gazed upon the second League base in Nepal. Her expressions are usually blank or incomplete, as if she suppresses her reactions.  

She marches close to him, head darting around to check for danger. Damian stops and asks, "How long until we meet the guides?"  

"We have one day of travel, Master."  

"One day? Could they have not sent a plane?"  

"It's too risky…"  

Damian clenches his jaw. A day of hiking through frozen hell. He pulls his hood over his head and quickens his pace.  

"Wait, Master, we should slow down." Marie calls after.  

He doesn't care. The faster they walk, the faster they can meet up with their allies and get out of there.  

"Master, wait—" A thump sounds out. Damian looks behind him to see Marie scrambling to get up. 

"Tt. You could have stayed behind if you can't even walk."  

Marie mumbles her apologies while catching up to him. "We should keep ourselves from tiring out quickly. There is still a long way to go."  

"What if the enemies catch up to us?" 

"They will not." She purses her lips. "They should not know you're escaping. They should not know you're here in the first place."  

"They always know." Damian continues along the nonexistent path. "I'm certain there are moles here."  

As they keep walking, Marie sometimes wobbles with the humongous bag but she doesn't trip again.  Damian doesn't keep count how many steps they have taken or how long they walk, but soon he starts to stagger and shiver, and the sun fades away slowly. Marie directs them to a small cave carved out on the side of a cliff. It is small and still cold, but it will do for the night. Damian gives in to his aching legs, putting his swords in front of him, while Marie sets up the camp. She kindles a humble fire and takes out the supplies to make a meal.  

"A seating mat, Master?" Marie lays out a folded cloth off to the side. Damian crawls to it wordlessly, leaning against the bumpy wall and draping an arm over his eyes. 

She hugs her knees and watches the boiling water. "There might be a storm tonight. I can cover up the entrance, but I do not know how well it will hold up."  

He doesn't reply.  

"Any food you prefer, Master?" 

"What difference does it make? It's all tasteless meal kits."  

"But—" 

"I don't care. Whatever you can make."  

"If we wake up early, we can reach our destination in time," Marie continues, "It is colder in the morning but I have heat packs in the bag."  

“...” 

Damian peeks as she cooks a simple stew. The aroma spreads around the cave, mingling with the shadows created by the fire. The warmth chases away the chill just a little. His servant seems to note his unwillingness to make small talk, so they eat their meals in complete silence, basking in the crackling flames instead. Marie unrolls the sleeping bag and positions herself near the opening of the cave with a knife in hand.  

"Please get some sleep, Master Damian. I will keep watch," says Marie.  

Damian rolls to face the ceiling. Camp-outs are often bleak, and he practically has to sleep with one eye open. But owing to the soreness of his body, he drifts into deep slumber. He has no clue how long he sleeps but when he wakes up, the fire has gone small and the numbed pain in his back has become more persistent. Damian sits up to see Marie staring off blankly into the foggy snowstorm. She's trembling badly and her chapped lips have turned into a light shade of blue. They make brief eye contact before she jumps up to push out the little snow starting to pile up at the opening.  

Damian averts his gaze, buries deeper into the sleeping bag, and thinks to himself how foolish it is for her to stay awake and away from the fire.  

He lies awake instead of going back to sleep as the  cold has won over his drowsiness. An eternity of gazing up at the darkness, his eyelids begin to feel heavy— 

Damian's hand darts up to grab the wrist hovering over him. “What are you doing?” 

Marie recoils back in surprise. "Hea—heat pack, Master. You looked cold."  

"Tt. Forget it. I will get one myself if I'm cold."  

Marie nods weakly, lowly muttering her apologies again, and returns to her post.  

***

The next time Damian wakes, it's from noises nearby. The morning light has spilled into the cave, and the fire has reduced into ash and some smoke. The second thing he notices is the lack of Marie's presence—Damian scrambles up and runs towards the cave opening to see his servant locked in a fight with a stranger just on the edge of the cliff. An enemy assassin perhaps. He has her pinned to the ground, but her fingers are tightly wound around his neck. Marie lets out a choked scream when the man jams the hilt of his weapon on her injured foot.  

Damian immediately pulls out his katana and swipes at the enemy's neck. He tugs Marie by the collar and kicks the man's large body off the drop. After looking around for other assassins he looks down on his servant, who's already making a makeshift splint from her knife holder despite her ragged breathing and the cut running across her hairline. 

"Where's the bag?" Damian asks, wiping off the hint of blood from his blade.  

Marie's eyes widen up at him, and they slowly follow down the height of the cliff.  

"Really? You can barely hold off an enemy and you've lost our supplies?" Damian's hand clenches around his sword.  

"I am sorry, Master, I was packing up and—and I was about to wake you." Her voice wavers. "I—I still have some food in my belt—" 

" Save it," he cuts her off. "We have to get down from here as fast as we can."  

Even if that assassin is a lone wanderer, they can't risk another similar encounter. If that happens, Damian isn't certain if he can keep himself alive, much less the both of them, especially if they're overwhelmed by numbers. He curses at his stiff hands; he could've been much faster if it were any other circumstance.  

"I—I am sorry, Master," Marie gasps out.  

"I said save it." Damian begins to hike again, and she follows while limping after crawling into the cave and packing up his sleeping bag.  

He's surprised that she survived and held off the assassin, but she did so sloppily that her injury was aggravated. Because of that, they will be slowed down indefinitely, unless he chooses to venture on ahead. That is the truth in the League of Assassins: that kind of weakness isn't tolerated, even if she has some ability to defend herself. Those incapable are quickly rooted out, and those who are prodigies train to become more vicious.  

Damian momentarily halts when he observes that the path has narrowed down. They can still cross and climb down, but after one wrong move, they will be falling into a merciless death. He tests the rock, moving one step at a time and clinging onto the shallow crevices of the wall.  

He turns to Marie. “Climbing gear?”  

She bows her head in guilt. “Inside the bag . . . Master.”  

“That is your own fault,” he spits out. “If you cannot cross this, I'm not helping you.”  

He feels her trying to follow closely, but her balance is dangerously off. Damian watches as she struggles to walk through. Her breaths are unsteady as she keeps her gaze on her feet. On top of that, she's shivering more than the previous day.  

When Marie makes a misstep and gasps sharply when she slips, Damian jumps in to grab her sleeve to keep her from falling. She swallows and thanks him, to which he sternly directs to hold onto him as they cross. It takes them a longer while than he hoped for, but they finally come towards a more spacious and safer landing. Still, the bottom of the mountain is still too far to see.  

“I thought Mother sent you to escort and protect me,” he tuts, looking down at her as she collapses on her knees to catch her breath. “Yet you are slowing us down and putting both our lives in danger.”  

“You . . . you are right, Master. Forgive me.” She coughs a little, rubbing the area near her wound. “But I was trying to protect you—”  

“You were as good as dead if I had not stepped in. Who were you trying to protect?”  

“I apologize for my inadequacy.” She has lowered herself into a deep bow, head touching the snow. “Please punish me or kill me as you wish. We are nearing the meeting point anyway; I will be of no use soon.”  

“Tt. You don't even deserve to perish by my hand.” Damian looks down at her in distaste. The heir of the League should not be accompanied by such a servant in the first place. It's already a miracle that she has survived for this long, and he doesn't want to get rid of the little help she can offer. Perhaps as a convenient shield if they encounter enemies again.  

“Stand up,” he orders. “You are delaying us again.”  

She carefully does so, but when she shows her face again, Damian is nearly taken aback, seeing her again up close. Her forehead is smeared with dried blood and the side of her face is slightly swollen. But what surprises him is her usual dead eyes are now glistening with tears.  

“You are right, Master. I should not delay us any longer.” Marie sniffles, moving over to the edge.  

“Wh—what—”  

“I am sorry for not meeting your expectations. There is no excuse for my actions.” She takes out her knife.  

“Wait—” 

“Our allies are nearby; it will not take long.”  

Red. All that fills his vision is red: bold, flowing red against the canvas that is the frost. The intricately-carved hilt sticks out of her abdomen, spreading the ghastly color into her clothes. The blood isn't anything new for Damian to see, but he has never seen it like this.  

The white sky and red.  

Her white fingers and red.  

The white shine of the blade and red.  

Heavy drops spill onto the snow, then crushed underneath her boot as she sways backwards.  

“Please take care . . . Master Damian.”  

Before he can tell his body to move, she has disappeared by the hand of gravity, falling until the fog covers up. Damian wonders where the scream he hears comes from until he realizes his throat is hoarse.  

***

Damian jolts awake, cold sweat slithering down the nape of his neck. It takes him a second to realize that he is in his bedroom in the Wayne manor, and the sun is yet to rise. He shivers even though he feels warm, as if the memory of the cold has followed him back to reality. Frustrated, he tugs hard at his hair as he tries to even out his breaths.  

He just dreamed of that again.  

Next Chapter →

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

part eight

❝ DAY ONE (AND A HALF) ❞

SATURDAY — 6:29PM BENTLEY FINALLY TOOK A SHOWER. He went through the wringer trying to keep his hand and forehead out of the water as much as possible, but the bandages on his hand still ended up soggy. It’d been a while since Bruce checked on him (though he probably stuck his head in when Bentley was taking an hour long shower.) but he didn’t mind. He’d taken time to look around the room and decide it wasn’t actually that much like home.

For example, Bentley had a grandfather clock sitting by the door at home, but here, there was a little digital one on the nightstand. The wardrobe wasn’t full of crisp meeting clothes, but of some hand-me-down looking items that had been organized by color before he arrived. The windows didn’t have annoying decorative velvet drapes, but had actual, useful blackout curtains. It was low on decor simply from being uninhabited, not because Bentley’s father forbade him from having toys or trinkets to mess with.

He’d been laying on his bed for a while now, watching the digital clock count each passing second in a multicolored neon. He wasn’t sure when he was supposed to go downstairs. Sure, Bruce told him he could whenever he wanted to, but last time he’d left his room without explicitly being told to…

He eyed the bandages on his hand. Yeah. He’d rather just stay in the bedroom. Staying couldn’t make anyone mad. No one had told him he hadto come out — so staying in sounded safe enough. Plus, he’d already determined he’d survive a drop from the windows should the need arise, and that he would might be able to brute force them open if he had to. He wasn’t so sure how to escape from the rest of the house if Damian decided to pull a sword on him, and he knew he couldn’t beat the Robin at a foot race.

A room with many points of escape was safest for someone on the defensive. Which he would be, if that child assassin was perusing him with a katana.

He was so busy thinking through what exactly he’d do if Damian tried to impale him that he flinched when there was a light knock on the door.

His father never knocked on his door. What do you say when someone knocks on the door? 

He straightened, moving to the edge of the bed and dangling his legs off. “Yes?” 

It sounded more like a self-aimed question than an actual response to the knock, but the person slowly opened the door anyways.

“Hey, bud. Just coming to let you know dinner is ready. Would you like to come down, or for me to bring it up?” Bruce peeked into the room with a sheepish look on his face, as though he hadn’t raised, like, seven kids before Bentley got there. 

The child didn’t respond immediately. The Wayne’s just cooked for everyone in the house, even if Bentley hadn’t done anything for them?

Or maybe it was to get Bentley to do something for them. Nightwing cooked for Bentley before he asked him if he would come to the Wayne’s. Wasn’t that kind of like his father giving him a protein bar if he did good during a meeting?

“Uh…” He started, glancing down at his tennis shoes. He’d pulled on the same pair of Damian’s clothes Nightwing had given him after his shower, because he didn’t want to mess with anything from the wardrobe he wasn’t supposed to. “I…”

He couldn’t stay in one place forever. Plus, if he met Damian at the dinner table, maybe he wouldn’t murder him. 

Bentley was definitely not more afraid of Robin than he was of Batman. (Or that’s what he kept telling himself.)

“I’ll… come,”

There was a silence, so Bentley glanced up at the doorway to make sure Bruce was still there. He was. 

“Okay,”

Bentley pushed himself off the bed and willed his body onward, through the door that Bruce widened when he approached. He let the sleeves of the hoodie slide over his hands so he couldn’t see the bandages.

“Tim is still at the office, so it’ll just be me, you, Alfred, Damian, and Duke,” He explained quietly as they made their way through the halls. Bentley was thankful he was near the stairs, or he’d never find his way off the top floor without an escort. “Damian is eleven, and Duke is seventeen.”

Bruce headed down the stairs, and Bentley followed silently behind like a good dog. 

Luckily, the dining room was only a few turns away from the front door, should he need to run from katana wielding super-sidekicks. The table was large — really large — already set nicely for five people. Several different kinds of food Bentley hadn’t seen before sat steaming in the middle of the table. The dining room was lined with windows, golden sunlight shining through, and everything from the fixtures to the actual plates and forks seemed to be in just the perfect places.

Bentley promptly avoided making eye contact with the pair already seated in the dining room. 

“Bentley, this is Duke and Damian. Duke, Damian, this is Bentley,”

Bentley stayed silent, and did nothing but glance back and forth between them.

Damian was in the leftmost seat on the right side of the table, eyeballing the other child  with a trained skepticism. He looked just like the pictures Bentley’s father had shown him, all the way from his spiky black hair to his menacing aura. Now that he and Bruce were in the same room, Bentley could see he was much darker than his father, and their eyes were on complete opposite sides of the blue spectrum. Bruce’s were an icy grey, while Damian’s were nearly green. If Bentley didn’t know Damian was Arabian because of his mother, he’d have guessed he was adopted like the rest of Bruce’s kids.

Duke was sitting next to him with a sheepish smile, his rich brown skin shining in the golden dining room. His black hair was cropped close to his head. Bentley really hoped he wasn’t planning on whipping out his fancy superpowers anytime soon.

Duke’s deep brown eyes sparkled as he spoke: “Hey, Bentley. Nice to meet you.”

Bentley blinked. He highly doubted that.

“… Hi,” Was the child’s muted reply. 

Damian spoke up: “I suppose it is nice to make your acquaintance.”

Bentley shivered. Because his inflection, his vocabulary, the way he spoke with just enough elegance and dignity to hide the venomous undertones reminded him so much of his father.

“Bentley, why don’t you have a seat wherever you’d like, alright?” Bruce stated with a small smile, pulling out the seat at the head of the table next to Damian for himself. Really, Bentley would’ve been fine upstairs in the bedroom, but he sat on the other side of Bruce instead. Right across from Damian, who seemed to glare daggers naturally. Not to mention he was probably carrying daggers.

Bentley went to pull his knees up on impulse, but decided he probably didn’t need to put his feet in Bruce’s nice chairs. Instead, he took to staring at the tabletop.

(Last time Bentley put his shoes on a piece of furniture, he got hit with them. And nasty, grubby tennis shoes to the face didn’t sound fun.)

Dinner was fine, if not a little long. Alfred had made some kind of fancy alfredo that Bentley struggled to eat a plate of. He could’ve swore, between Nightwing’s experimental pancakes and Alfred’s dinner, he’d never eaten so much food in his entire life. Up until then he’d lived solely off of whatever protein bars, cracker sleeves, and small snacks his father tossed his way when he was behaving. Maybe the occasional meal when his dad was feeling chipper. If the Wayne’s were going to keep giving him food like this, he’d need to develop a second stomach. It had been hard enough for him to choke down both of the meals in one day.

Thankfully, they didn’t talk to Bentley much throughout the meal. Bruce did, and Duke a few times, but other than that it was mostly conversation about Duke and Damian’s days, school, and the like. Bentley listened intently, gathering as much information as he could.

He noticed Damian didn’t say any names or speak about anyone other than Grayson (Bentley assumed he meant Dick Grayson) and Drake (Tim Drake, Bentley also assumed.) Even when he spoke about school, the only other people he actually named were teachers.

So Robin wasn’t one for friends, then. Being raised by assassins probably wouldn’t give someone great people skills anyhow. 

Bentley added that to his growing list of leverage.

Duke spoke more about his classmates, and studying for some upcoming test he called SATs. He seemed to really want to make a good grade on it. Bentley didn’t pick up on anything leverage-worthy when he spoke, unless a mysterious school test was enough to break him.

“Master Bentley,” The child flinched when his name was spoken, and his fork clattered against his plate embarrassingly. He felt all four pairs of eyes on him and he didn’t like it. But he turned toward Alfred nonetheless. 

He was sitting a chair away from Bentley, only eating now that everybody had been attended to. “How old are you?”

Thankfully, that was a question he didn’t have to lie about.

“I, uh… just turned ten,” He replied softly, staring down at his plate. He saw Duke and Bruce shift in the corner of his eye, and Damian stayed eerily still, like he was trying to internalize every single syllable that came out of Bentley’s mouth. “…last week.”

“Happy belated birthday, then,” Alfred continued with a small smile and nod. 

Bentley blinked. When was the last time anyone told him happy birthday?

Bentley found himself hiding his confusion behind a small, forced smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course,”

The table fell silent again. Alfred excused himself to begin cleaning and packing up the food, and Duke and Damian both left the table soon after.

Bruce sighed as he stood up from his seat. “How are you feeling? I know this is all new…”

Bentley glanced down at his hands, fiddling with them in his lap. “Good.” Was what he said, despite feeling terribly guilty that he had to destroy them and utterly terrified they’d find out beforehand.

“Duke and Damian are probably off to their rooms. You can go, too, or I can give you a tour. Or if you wanted to watch a movie or read something we could do that, too. Whatever you’d prefer,”

Bentley hated having so many options.

“I… think I just want to go to bed,” He stated. Bruce nodded on the immediate.

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room?”

“No, I can do it,” Bentley said a little too quick for his own liking. “… thanks.” He added, just so he didn’t sound rude.

“Don’t hesitate to find one of us if you need anything,”

Bentley nodded as he pushed himself out of the dining chair, sliding it back under the table. One thing he definitely would not be doing was bothering unarmed Wayne’s at seven-thirty.

He managed to work his way back to the front door and staircase alone, and thankfully, made it to bed without having to speak to anyone else.

Being surrounded by so many people could be exhausting, and he hadn’t even done anything.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💛

[taruchinator]

🎧 Teen & Up Audiences

🎧 3.5k Words

🎧 Written for the Grab A Slice Bang!

Unconsciously reaching for his katana, the blue ninja stealthily approached, only to have his heart ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

A shivering form— a turtle such as himself— crouched perfectly under the desk as he placed both hands against his ears, as if blocking out the noise around him. His iconic purple bandana and trusty goggles lay discarded to the side as if they were nothing but mere trash, in a condition that showed fumbling and desperation from the user to rip them off.

He'd found Donnie.

Here we come again with the trauma! :D Hey everyone! Alice here!

Today I come with my second piece for the Grab A Slice TMNT Bang on Twitter, this time focused on my beloved Disaster Twins, featuring my favorite Donnie is Autistic HC!

The first artwork for this fic was done by @donathan, the second by Mad Lad, and the final one by Shirpowbra! Please consider following these talented individuals~

“You guys don't have to do this! Besides, my mom's home and she'd freak as soon as she saw you.”

“No buts, April! It's dark out and we gotta make sure the best party coordinator in New York gets home safe and sound. Ya know, for any future consultations.”

The underground sewers of New York City regained life in what felt like forever, as the light banter between April O'Neil and Raphael Hamato echoed through the slimy tunnels around them.

Months had passed since the invasion of the Krang, and the subsequent victory the turtle siblings had over the threat that fell upon their home. After everything they experienced fighting the Shredder, no one could have predicted that they'd be sucked into a new global-destruction-scale battle, at least not as soon as they did.

The time was spent mostly recovering, both physically and emotionally— with the occasional shenanigans that came in helping their new futuristic friend in returning to his timeline, which was an extremely difficult task, yet nothing a little science and magic couldn't fix after trial and error (more error than anything else, but Donnie wouldn't admit to that).

Being a hero was no walk in the park, and that was something the turtles had to learn the hard way. Regardless, it was clear that they needed some cheering up to do, which was the moment April concocted a plan alongside Master Splinter to host a party in their small hideout.

It took plenty of work behind the scenes— everything from obtaining supplies, to setting up decorations, to simply getting the boys out of the house for enough time without drawing any suspicions to their scheme. But the results were definitely worth it.

However, now that the celebrations were over and every last slice of pizza had been accounted for, it was time for the human girl to head home, since she had school the next day. Which prompted the current predicament in which Raph's big brother instincts wouldn't let her leave on her own without any company.

Mikey, who at this point had been collecting the empty pizza boxes littered across the floor, quickly ran over to the duo and placed himself between them with a sweet smile aimed at the girl. “Please April? You know Raph isn't gonna sleep unless you let him take you. I could tag along if you want to fill in the awkward silence!”

“Hey! I don't do awkward silences!” Raph huffed with his eyebrows furrowed together, only to soften the expression slightly in uncertainty. “Do I?”

April couldn't hold back her giggle while placing one hand on the snapping turtle's shoulder. “Let's just say you aren't the best at holding a conversation, big guy.” As she eyed the concerned siblings on either side of her, she let out a sigh of defeat with a small smile gracing her lips. These idiots would be the death of her. “Fine! But you both better be stealthy or I'll get grounded for life, and that's if I'm lucky.”

“Sister, you're talking to ninjas. It comes with the package.” Mikey replies with a smug grin as he tries to pose with his back against one of the pillars, only to have Raph bring him back to reality with a gentle head pat. “Easy there, Mikey. We've already got one overconfident player, we ain't got room for two.”

“I must concur, April.” Taking the trio off guard, Splinter's voice cut through the echoey surface around them. He approached while carrying an array of disposable plates and cups, even juggling one on his tail which contained plenty of plastic forks. “It is far too late for a young girl to be walking the streets alone. And do not worry about the cleanup. I shall take care of it all momentarily.”

This then prompts a fifth voice to join in on the conversation, Leo's bubbly personality completely unfazed as to it being past midnight as he approaches Splinter from behind. “Excuse me, I think you mean we'll take care of the cleanup!” As quickly as he arrived, the blue ninja immediately took hold of everything his father was carrying and proceeded to balance it on one arm, all the while sporting a cocky grin. “Dee and I will go through this mess, don't you worry!”

“I'm sorry, we'll what?” Donnie, who had simply been standing in the corner fidgeting with his phone all this time, raised his head in confusion, clearly sleep-deprived and ready to hit the hay.

“Leonardo…” Splinter spoke firmly yet with tiredness gracing his features. “You do not have to do this, my son. I'm more than capable-”

“I know you are, pops. Just let us do something in return, will ya? Consider it a thanks for the party!” Leo's expression softened slightly as he gave his father a smile. With a small push towards his bedroom, he continued. “Now go get some sleep! You deserve it! And you guys hurry up so you can help too!”

Raph couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his father fighting both Leo and the exhaustion as he was pushed into his room. If there was one good thing that came out of the Krang invasion, it was the older brother's new-found respect for his younger siblings. With a roll of his eyes, he ushered Mikey and April out of the lair. “Whatever you say, leader.”

Once the echoes of their footsteps were out of hearing, the blue ninja felt satisfied enough to get started, as he turned around and took a good look at his surroundings. Everything from trash, to confetti, to questionable food residues layed around him. Maybe this was going to be a higher task than he initially thought. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and quickly forced the tiredness out of his system as he started with the pizza boxes that Mikey had already prearranged. “Alrighty! I take care of the trash. Donnie, you start picking up the streamers.”

After not receiving a response, Leo turned to look at his twin. The purple bandana did little to cover the eye bags and clear irritation gracing the genius' features. “You really expect me to clean up a mess like this at three in the morning?”

“Come on, Dee! We're just getting a head start while the others get back. You can go play with your gizmos afterwards, I promise.” Even though Leo played it as a joke, he could tell Donnie wasn't in the mood to deal with his antics at the moment. With a sigh, he spoke up once more. “Look, I'm tired too. But dad and April worked real hard to plan this thing for us. Maybe the least we can do is help clean up the mess?”

The other's expression remained unreadable for a moment. It wasn't until the purple ninja shuddered in disgust that Leo knew Donnie hadn't fallen asleep with his eyes open. “I don't like this new ‘Responsible Leo’ thing you've got going. It's creepy.”

Mouth agape, the blue ninja sputtered. “I'm just trying to be nice, that's not creepy!”

“Coming from you, it is. I want my dumb-dumb brother back.” Donnie replied instantly, earning him another flabbergasted look, which annoyingly enough got a chuckle out of the genius. Well, he'd been having insomnia for the past couple of days anyway. What was one more? “Fine, you win. Just let me get Sheldon from the lab. Might as well have another helper around because I am not going anywhere near that moldy pizza.”

“Alright, you got it! Disaster twins in the house, baby!” Leo exclaimed with glee as he balanced one more cardboard box over his shoulder, his smile never leaving his lips.

Donnie shivered once more at the sound, scratching at the back of his neck in frustration. He was gonna need more than Sheldon if he was going to survive the night. “N-Not so loud, Nardo. Dad's asleep, remember? Be right back.”

And as such, without even letting him start another sentence, the purple ninja fled the scene into his laboratory. Strange, yet Leo didn't think to question it. He just wanted to get everything done so they could get the rest they needed.

Minutes went by as Leo kept sweeping the area around him. The garbage he'd collected so far could probably fill the Turtle Tank to the brim, and he had to stop and wonder how much waste could four turtles, one rat man and one human girl produce in the span of a couple hours.

His thoughts then began to drift towards his twin, who'd been taking his sweet time in coming back. He rolled his eyes in fake annoyance. “He totally ditched me. At least Raph will give him an earful when he gets back...”

The mental image of the red and purple ninja going at it was quickly wiped from Leo's mind however, as soon as a loud crash echoed through the lair. One coming from none other than Donnie's lab.

Despite knowing better— that it was late and that they were all sleep deprived and that his twin most probably just ended up tripping over the mess of wires in his little hideout— a familiar feeling of dread began to creep through Leo's body, before he sprinted towards the source, discarding the trash bag in the process.

“Calm down Leon, you're overreacting! Everything's fine. You guys are safe. Nothing's wrong!” The blue ninja kept repeating the mantra in his mind to steady his accelerated heartbeat, yet images of his oldest brother being overtaken by alien matter kept flashing through his eyes, and all he could do was pick up the pace.

The sight that greeted him did little to calm his nerves.

Everything was a mess. And not the usual ‘Donnie doesn't put things where they belong’ kind. No matter where he looked the entire place was trashed, with everything from keyboards to robot parts lying on the ground. Monitors were broken, cords were unplugged, and the purple ninja was nowhere in sight.

It didn't take long for panic to set in. Leo began his search around the mess of wire spaghetti at his feet. “Donnie! Where are you?!”

Thankfully the lab was relatively small, considering it used to be an old water pump system that his twin ended up transforming into something amazing. But that didn't change the fact that the structure was the same and there wasn't much ground to cover.

Turning the corner to Donnie's makeshift sleeping area, Leo spotted Sheldon on the mess of blankets, still in resting mode but definitely placed there just a few moments ago based on his location. The purple ninja was just here.

“M-Mmm…” A quiet whine instantly caught Leo's attention as it broke the silence around him. Following the sound with his gaze, it seemed to be leading to one of his brother's work stations. The desk had been ransacked as well— blueprints and sketches either ripped apart or swept onto the floor.

Unconsciously reaching for his katana, the blue ninja stealthily approached, only to have his heart ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

A shivering form— a turtle such as himself— crouched perfectly under the desk as he placed both hands against his ears, as if blocking out the noise around him. His iconic purple bandana and trusty goggles lay discarded to the side as if they were nothing but mere trash, in a condition that showed fumbling and desperation from the user to rip them off. Most heartbreaking of all would have to be his exposed shell, with visible veins underneath the translucent surface pumping blood at a speed that proved his current heart rate, and even possible hyperventilation, if Leo had to guess.

He'd found Donnie.

Without much thought, Leo instinctively reached for his twin's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He'd soon find out it'd be far from that. “Dee, what happ-?”

“M-Mmm!” With no hesitation, Donnie slapped the hand away and quickly backed away further into the desk, holding onto his knees as he started rocking back and forth. He wouldn't even spare his twin a glance. This struck a chord in Leo as he stared in disbelief at the teen in front of him— he'd seen this before. A long time ago.

Some parts of Leo's childhood were rather hazy. Expected of someone who was mutated into a cognitive sentient being when he was merely a baby, as Donnie once said himself. And even though most of the things he did remember were relatively mundane, there was one event that always made his skin crawl when trying to remember it.

A time when Donnie had just instantly fallen to the ground and started crying uncontrollably as he clung to his sides in desperation, almost as if trying to rip his clothes off with all the strength he could muster.

Mikey started crying too while Raph went to look for Splinter, and all Leo could do was stare not knowing what to do. He'd never felt so helpless before.

After their father took control of the situation and did some research, he sat the boys down to have a long and detailed talk about something called ‘Autism.’

“Donatello struggles more than all of us with socializing and interacting with the things around him.” The rat had said in the simplest way he could for children to understand. But he also made sure to add, “However, this does not make your brother any different from us. If anything, it is one of the many reasons why he is so special and intellectually gifted!”

Ever since that day, everyone started learning the ways around how to deal with Donnie's condition and make him feel as comfortable as possible. And even though the purple ninja would usually express that he was being more of a burden, no one ever felt that way. They were family, and that meant they loved each other, no matter what.

As the years went by, Donnie became better at handling his condition by himself, and in the rare cases where he needed support, Splinter would be there.

This was probably the first time since they were children where Leo's twin had let it get to this point. That could only mean this was serious.

Splinter was already asleep and Leo was alone. He was never the comforting type of the family, but damn if he wouldn't try his best to try and get Donnie to a semi-normal state! He couldn't leave the other like this.

As he crouched to be in his brother's same height level, he made sure to lower his voice, barely above a whisper as he kept his distance a few feet away. “Donnie… are you having an episode?”

The other moved his body slightly in Leo's direction, but still clutched his head as he gave a tiny nod in response. And then, as quickly as he could, he started moving his hands in weird gestures that had the blue ninja blinking in confusion until it hit him.

Sign Language.

One of the things the Hamato family noticed about Donnie's autism was the fact that he'd usually go mute whenever he was having a bad episode. And for those cases, the genius had started learning sign language to still be able to communicate with the others.

This fact alone made Leo instantly groan in frustration, which caused Donnie to quiver in response. Out of everyone in the family, Mikey was definitely the one who was more skilled at sign language, followed by Splinter, Raph and ultimately, himself.

Leo was at the bottom of the barrel really, since he never actually bothered to learn it properly.

He had to take a step back and reevaluate everything and search deep into the vault that was his memory. He started at his trembling hands with uncertainty, but was determined to get it right. Or at least as right as he could.

He began with moving his fingers into a shaka sign position, until he hesitantly started moving them back and forth in front of him. ‘Party’ , if he recalled correctly. Seeing Donnie not correcting him, he continued with pointing at his left ear and subsequently forming his hands into fists, shaking them slightly from one side to the other as he mouthed the meaning— ‘Loud’.

Leo finally ended with a pointed finger directed at his twin. He knew it wasn't the right way of asking, but he still hoped Donnie could understand what he was trying to convey. “Was the party too loud for you?”

Donnie's eyes flickered from Leo's hands to his face, until he gave a hesitant nod. With tears stinging his eyes, he signed something that Leo could understand. ‘Tired.’ ‘Didn't sleep’.

It all made sense now.

Ever since the invasion, Donnie hadn't had a single moment to relax— dealing with the aftermath in the city, helping everyone in the healing process, sending Casey back home. Nobody really questioned it because well, Donnie was never one to vocally express whenever he was in distress.

He was the genius of the family.

His intellect and technology expertise were essential.

Everyone relied on him.

But it was clear that even the strongest people had a breaking point. And Donnie was way beyond his.

Holding a firm yet gentle gaze, the blue ninja moved tentatively closer to his brother as he went back to whispering. “What can I do to help?”

Despite not being able to express it at the moment, it was clear that Donnie appreciated not being poked or lectured on the choices he'd made over the past few months, even though it was clear that it all played a major part in his current state of mind. He stimmed with his hands in appreciation.

After that, it was a guessing game around the lab as to what Donnie wanted Leo to get for him. Everything from a weighted blanket he kept in the bottom drawer, a pair of sound proof headphones that Leo could've easily mistaken as regular ones, and even aesthetic items such as fairy lights that were hidden under the regular light switches.

Leo didn't know how much time had passed until he looked at the clock on the nightstand, which read 4:26 AM in bright bold letters. He was rather thankful that at least after everything, Donnie was now a little more comfortable, to the point where he'd let Leo get closer and even be touched.

Once things were set up for his twin in the lab's makeshift bed, the blue ninja figured this would be the best time to take his leave and have the other get the rest he rightfully deserved.

But before he could even rise from the mat, a hand hesitantly held onto his wrist, causing him to halt and turn in concern. Donnie was looking at him from his spot under the bundle of blankets, a somewhat sheepish expression gracing his features as he mumbled out loud for the first time in hours. “S-Stay…”

Widening his eyes slightly in surprise, Leo let out a soft chuckle at the way his brother was behaving. He'd definitely deny all of it in the morning. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Donnie did as he was told and made a small space for Leo to fit into under the fortress. With their bodies pressed against each other, the blue ninja would've thought his twin would be uncomfortable, but the smile on his face showed the complete opposite.

Before falling into the peaceful world of slumber, the genius tapped three fingers against his chin with his eyes closed. ‘Thank you.’

Leo couldn't stop the smile from spreading. He held on to his brother's side with no intention of letting go. “You're welcome, Dee…”

It was clear that despite many months having gone by, the turtle brothers still had a long journey of healing ahead of them. And after finally understanding the value his family had to him, Leo was certain he'd want to be there for it every step of the way.

Just like he and Donnie didn't need words to communicate, he and the rest of his loved ones didn't need a reason to care for one another, except the pure fact that they loved each other.

And that was the unspoken truth.

“Ohhhh now this is a good angle!” Mikey took the twelfth picture that night with a wide and mischievous grin across his face.

“Mikey! Keep it down, you'll wake them up!” Raph hushed in the best whispery voice he could do as he scolded his youngest brother.

Once the duo had returned to the lair and found not only the party mess still intact but also their brothers missing, they couldn't help but grow curious. Just like Leo did, they found the trashed lab as a bad sign and immediately panicked as they went inside, until they were greeted with the peaceful sight of the twins snoring away under the blanket fort.

Mikey started looking through the loot in his phone's gallery as he replied in a whisper. “Sorry, sorry! I just need a little leverage for the next time they wanna steal my paint without asking.”

Raph sighed in frustration, only to turn and look at the twins once more.

His heart soared at the sight, and it was only fair to let himself relax as he ushered Mikey out of the room. “Yeah whatever. Let's hit the hay too, little man.”

Cleaning could wait until morning.

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[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @thetommoway-oioii!

I hope you enjoy this. Here is all the fluff and cuteness for you with most of the tropes you requested. 

*****

Tis the Season to be Merry (and to be Married)

The words came to Derek on a Monday morning about a month before Christmas.

He was in the kitchen that afternoon cooking dinner for… well, a crowd, basically. He and Stiles might have moved into their own house sometime earlier this year in a bid for privacy, but there never seemed to be a shortage of people suddenly popping in and out of their lives, especially to eat them out of house and home, and most especially during the holiday season.

Sometimes it was Derek’s parents, Desmond and Talia Hale, who had retired from handling the family businesses and the Hale Foundation, and were spending most of their free time either traveling or meddling in their children’s lives. Derek’s siblings also made frequent appearances, all six of them—Matthew, Valerie, Laura, Cora, Cameron, and Nathaniel—and each one bringing about their own brand of mayhem, chaos, and pandemonium.

And then there was Peter, Derek’s uncle, but the less said about him, the better. Derek was still wishing the man was too busy to make an appearance at the Christmas table this year.

Though it wasn’t like Stiles’s side of the family was any better. He only had his father, retired Sheriff John Stilinski, as immediate family—and Derek could already feel the headache at the two’s constant arguments about John’s love for meat and Stiles’s insistence on a diet—but Stiles made up for it with a found family numbering in… well, far too many.

There were his best friends, Scott and Lydia, with their own partners, sweet, gun-toting Allison and douchebag Jackson. Then there was their collection of friends like Erica who could castrate a man with her nails, tall and dark and silent Boyd, Kira who could wield a katana while wearing a skirt, Isaac who wore far too many scarves at any given day, and his boyfriend Danny who had blackmail material on everybody.

Derek paused in his cooking. They had too many people in their damn lives and in their damn business. He and Stiles should consider moving to, like, New Zealand or something. They both loved Lord of the Rings. They could probably go and live in a hobbit hole or something.

Though God knows their families and friends would still find a way to follow and pester them.

Derek resumed his cooking, putting the finishing touches on the chicken and the salad and checking that the brownies were baking perfectly. He passed by the refrigerator, pausing at the knick knacks that littered the surface.

Pride of place was his and Stiles’s photo from four years ago during their second year anniversary. They hadn’t been able to celebrate properly because Stiles had just finished a grueling shift at the hospital and Derek had been bogged down by paperwork from the university where he taught. Because of the late hour, all they could do was a fast food drive thru and then eat in the car. Stiles had taken a selfie photo of them.

They looked like crap, honestly—both of them obviously tired and worn, Derek’s tie was crooked and he had crumbs all over his shirt and Stiles was still in scrubs and had ketchup on his chin. But they were happy and in love.

Derek stroked the photo.

“I want to marry you,” he murmured, the words flowing from him like an exhale.

The words weren’t surprising and not even unexpected, not after ten years—two years of being annoyed by each other, two years of being friends, and six years of being together, one of which was spent here in the house they bought together.

Derek glanced out the window. It was a winter wonderland outside, interspersed with blinking lights from the neighbors’ Christmas decorations and the snowmen that littered the yards.

What was surprising was the urgency that came to him.

It was a cliche thought though, especially on Christmas, but maybe the festive season was getting to him, wanting him to find more reasons to celebrate.

Derek thought about Stiles as he cooked, thankful for the long vacation from teaching at the university that he could do this for his partner, especially since Stiles had pulled the short end of the stick when it came to shifts at the hospital this Christmas.

Derek thought about Stiles’s impish smile and his pretty eyes, thought about his voice, rich and soft, and about something funny he had said the other day—he said a lot of funny things all the time. He thought about taking lunch to the hospital a few days ago, only to have Stiles pull him into his office for a rather lengthy ‘thank you’ kiss and then complain about the amount of work he had to do as they ate together. (It was a lie. Stiles loved being a doctor, even if he had ended up being on duty on Christmas Day.)

Derek thought about Stiles’s dry wit and his sarcastic quips, how he played around with his Dad and his friends, how he adored Derek’s family, even though Derek’s siblings were insane. He thought about how soft he was during their quiet moments, how he curled into Derek’s touch and indulged in lazy sex and slow, lengthy kisses.

“I want to marry him,” Derek murmured the words to himself quietly.

It wasn’t so much that he and Stiles hadn’t considered marriage, but it hadn’t been a priority over the years, what with everything going on with their lives and families—Valerie’s son being born, John’s retirement, Scott and Allison’s wedding, Lydia and Jackson’s engagement, Stiles getting promoted, then that following year Derek had an accident and broke his arm…

Everyone knew he and Stiles were in this for the long haul. They obviously loved each other, annoyed each other, felt at home with each other, and they had plans and promises for the future and had started living together. 

A formal arrangement just hadn’t been in the cards yet.

Derek heard a car horn and looked out the window to see Stiles’s jeep pulling into the garage. However, he highly doubted that they were not getting any other visitors that night. He finished the preparations just as the key was turning in the lock and Stiles’s voice immediately flowed into the once-quiet home.

“I’m home!” he called out, loudly and cheerfully. “And advance warning, we’re getting a bunch of strays tonight.”

Derek snorted. “That’s not new.”

There was the sound of shuffling and keys, and then muffled footsteps as Stiles moved further into the house. Derek was scooping servings into a large bowl when Stiles plastered himself to Derek’s back, arms snaking gently around his waist and pointy chin popping itself on his shoulder.

“You’re cold,” Derek said, not even fighting the smile that appeared on his face.

Stiles, just to be a jerk, slid his cold hands under Derek’s sweater. “Lydia, Nathaniel, Erica, and Boyd are all dropping by; and Mattie, too, which means he’s also bringing his baby girl, CC. They’ll be here in about an hour.”

Derek sighed. “All I wanted was a peaceful dinner.”

“When, in all our lives, have we ever had peace?” Stiles chuckled, kissing his cheek. “That smells good.”

“It’ll taste even better once you get comfortable and get changed,” Derek said, turning around to face him.

Stiles was smiling, and Derek had seen it a thousand times, but it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His pale skin was a little red from the cold, especially his nose, cheeks, and ears, his brown hair was falling messily across his forehead, and his eyes were bright and warm as they looked at Derek.

“No welcome home kisses?” he asked, those pretty lips pouting.

Derek chuckled and obliged. “Welcome home.”

They kissed for a few moments, long and slow and sweet, before Derek rubbed Stiles’s back.

“Go and get changed. In an hour, we’ll get your strays bothering us.”

Stiles let out a squawk of offense. “Hey! How come when they’re bothering us they’re mine?”

“Because you make just as big a mess as they do,” Derek said, pinching his hip.

Stiles cackled, dancing away. “But you already picked me, so you have to put up with it. No take backsies.”

He let out a raspberry, which was really unbecoming of his age, especially a doctor, and then laughed loudly as he ran off.

‘I want to marry you,’ Derek thought, smiling at his retreating back.

A formal arrangement just hadn’t been in the cards.

But maybe it should be.

The words came to Derek again and again over the next few days. 

‘I want to marry you,’ he thought, when Stiles was smiling at him, talking animatedly, his hands flying as he talked about his cases at the hospital.

‘I want to marry you,’  he thought, as they were getting groceries, with Derek’s siblings, twins Cora and Cameron in tow, all of them getting more sweets and chocolates than what the grocery list indicated.

‘I want to marry you,’ he thought, as Stiles ran past him screaming, followed by Isaac, Kira, and Derek’s nephews as they engaged in a snowball fight. Laura was screaming in the background that she’d punch whoever gets snow in her newly-dyed hair, only to get pelted by snowballs from all directions.

‘I want to marry you,’ he thought, a flutter in his heart, as they walked around the Christmas bazaar one afternoon, ungloved hands tucked into Derek’s pocket as they looked for kitschy Christmas gifts for their friends. Stiles beamed at him, bright and carefree, his nose pink from the wind, and Derek tugged him close and kissed him right in the middle of the market. Stiles didn’t seem to protest, going by the enthusiastic way he responded.

‘I want to marry you,’ he thought, holding a sobbing Stiles close after delivering the bad news to a couple that their child hadn’t pulled through during the surgery. He stroked Stiles’ hair, his back, his cheeks, and held him tighter, even tighter. 

‘I want to marry you,’ he thought, panting and aroused and flushed as they showered together, pressed intimately from head to toe with Stiles kissing his neck.

‘I want to marry you,’ he thought as he watched Stiles conversing with their parents, Talia and Desmond and John, talking about where they could go for next year’s family vacation—Stiles and Desmond were both pushing for Disneyland, for the hundredth time, as they liked collecting Mickey ears. John wanted somewhere with cows, for some reason.

“I want to marry Stiles,” Derek said, the words coming out of him, unbidden and sudden in the middle of dinner with their parents at the Hale Family Manor when Stiles had gone to the bathroom.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Talia cooed, eyes growing misty. “A new celebration for the family to look forward to.”

“Congratulations, son,” Desmond said, smiling proudly. “It’s been a long time coming.”

Derek turned to Stiles’s father, unsure what to expect, but the man was still enthusiastically into the steak he had managed to bribe Stiles into letting him eat for the night.

(“If you let me eat steak, I will drink all my medication and vote for Disneyland for next year’s family holiday,” John had said.

Stiles had looked torn, but he needed all the votes they could get. Family holidays were by majority vote.

A few minutes ago, just after Stiles had gone to the bathroom, John had said, in an act of betrayal, that he still planned to vote that they go somewhere with cows, possibly Switzerland.)

“Honestly, Derek, you two are practically married already, I don’t see the difference,” John said, shrugging. But he smiled. “You’re already family, but I guess it would be nice to put everything down in black and white.”

That night, Derek thought of the words and pressed them against the skin of Stiles’s shoulder as the younger man laid in bed beside him, breathing even and deeply asleep. 

“I want to marry you,” Derek murmured reverently. 

Stiles let out a sleepy murmur, snuffling a little, before turning into Derek’s hold, letting his warm and pliant and still-mostly-asleep self be gathered into Derek’s arms. 

Derek pressed another kiss into his dark hair and smiled when Stiles squished his face against his neck.

As expected, Derek’s plan to propose to Stiles eventually made its way to their families and friends. He knew their parents wouldn’t have said anything. They knew better than to get ahead of Derek. But he knew one of his nosy siblings had probably heard and then blabbed about it. (He was betting on Matthew. He might be the oldest of them, but he was a shameless gossip.)

The constant hints and eyebrow raises during the yearly Christmas Eve dinner at the Hale Family Manor was a dead giveaway, as was Scott pulling Derek to the side for a speech—or something like that? Scott was awful at speeches—on taking care of Stiles, Erica almost spilling the beans twice before Boyd dragged his girlfriend to the corner to ply her with eggnog—which was probably the wrong thing to do—and Danny trying to coerce Derek not to propose until he got a betting pool going, with an offer to split the winnings. (It was honestly tempting.)

But it was Peter—who the hell invited him again?—who opened his big mouth.

“So, when’s the wedding?” he asked from his spot on the long dining table between Talia and Laura. Not even Talia’s death glare stopped him, but that was probably because of the two glasses of wine already in the man.

“Why is Uncle Peter even here?” Valerie asked, rolling her eyes at him. “I thought we made a rule that he’s banned here on Christmas.”

“It’s the other way around,” Cora spoke up. “He’s banned here, except for Christmas.”

John frowned. “We should add Christmas too, really complete the whole calendar.”

Peter ignored them. “So?”

Derek was sighing into his meal. Scott was groaning into his hands. Desmond was busy trying to wrestle the knife away from Talia. It would be awful if blood got on the Christmas placemats.

“Who’s getting married?” Stiles asked, confused.

“You and Derek, duh,” Peter said. “It’s high time you two stopped living in sin and finally tie the kno—” he suddenly found himself face down in his mashed potatoes from a well-timed smack on the head from Laura.

“Uh, what?” Stiles turned to Derek. 

Derek took his hand.

“I told our parents I wanted to marry you,” he said calmly. He felt a touch nervous, but honestly he’d been thinking of the words so many times that it seemed so easy to say even in front of people. 

Plus, Peter had sort of taken the wind out of his sails.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand.

“Marriage sounds good,” he said.

Peter blinked from where he was wiping his face and still snorting out potatoes. 

“What?”

“I guess it’s high time we stopped living in sin, sweetie,” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes at him.

Derek sipped his glass. “Outdoor wedding would be great.” He raised his palm at Stiles. “Not Disneyland.”

“Fine. I get to pick the honeymoon then,” Stiles said.

He raised a hand at Stiles again. “Not Disneyland.”

Stiles pouted. “You’re no fun.”

Derek sighed. Stiles was so obsessed with Disneyland. “We can add it to the itinerary for a few days as long as you take time off from the hospital. We will not be getting calls during our honeymoon.”

“Deal,” Stiles said cheerfully. “I want an autumn wedding.”

Derek hummed. “That’s fine. You look beautiful in the fall.”

Stiles blushed. “Aww, Der.”

“Wait a sec! What just happened?” Peter blinked, looking around. “Did I do that? Did I get them engaged?”

“Peter is banned from our wedding,” Stiles immediately said.

Derek nodded. “Of course.”

“What? Oh, come on!” Peter whined. “I got you two engaged!”

“You did nothing. You were just nosy,” Stiles said, glaring at him. “And Derek already proposed a few nights ago.”

Derek looked to his parents. “I proposed that same night I told you.”

Stiles laughed. “No, you didn’t! You said it when I was half asleep!”

Derek shrugged. “Still counts.”

“Derek, you’re so boring,” Peter whined.

Stiles snapped his fingers, glaring at him. “Banned!”

John sighed and shoved food in his mouth. “Like I said, you two are practically already married anyway.”

“Well, we have been together for six years,” Stiles said, smiling at him, which enticed Derek to lean forward and kiss him.

“Congratulations!” erupted all over the table and Derek couldn’t help smiling.

Well, things didn’t go quite as planned, but that was all right. He was still marrying Stiles sometime in the future, and that was the most important thing.

“Peter, you’re still banned from the wedding.”

[truepcwer]

@indigodreames asked: hc + 🏠 for a home-themed headcanon

Emperor of Judement ( CEO Romance ) Verse: Regardless of romantic love interest

Vergil's home in the city is a luxurious penthouse apartment with Six bedrooms and Six bathrooms, however Vergil only has two of the six made for a bedroom. The main bedroom for himself and a guest bedroom for someone else if they ever needed it. Most often, Dante stays in that room if he's too drunk to make it home safely. Two of the extra bedrooms are overflow closets made for his custom made tailor suits, shoes, and casual clothes. Another bedroom is made into an office where he holds virtual conferences and meetings if he doesn't want to go into the office and then the last is a library filled with books of different genres, a framed photo of himself and his family when Vergil and Dante were young.

As for the overall aesthetic, everything is black with accents of the blue shade cerulean. He does decor that resemblances geometric shapes and some green plants that he tends to as his pop of color. He has dark hardwood floors with black accent carpets that keep up the aesthetic of the house.

As for the main bedroom, Vergil actually has a bit of her personality shown there. He has two nightstands with a lamp on each one, his current book on the side he sleeps on, katana's across from his bed, and The Yamato above his bed. He has automated black out currents that open up when the sun rises, a faux furry carpet underneath his bed. As for the bed itself, he has black silk sheets and a navy blue comforter.

For his bathroom, everything is dress-right-dress. He has his skin care in sections based on the day he's going to have on the right, and his night routine on the left. His shower has shelves that have the necessary body care items he uses and a bench for those days he's going through a rough time and he just needs to sit and process things. In addition, he has a speaker on the counter so he can listen to music when he's getting for the ready for his day. As for the bathtub, he hardly uses but it's there.

Bury The Light ( Main ) Verse: General information

In Red Grave City, Vergil has a somewhat luxurious apartment that's not too far from Devil May Cry but there's enough security that visitors have to be put on a guest list in order to come up to his apartment.

Inside his apartment, there are four bedrooms, two of the four are an office and library, while the last two are the main room and the guest room.

The overall aesthetic is black and white, even though Vergil leans towards darker aesthetics, due to his therapists advice, Dr. Wilson, she recommended that his living space be bright and welcoming to help prevent darker thoughts and low moods. He has some light scented candles ( all the same scent ) scattered throughout his space, so it always smells like vanilla and lavender since lavender is calming agent.

There is a re-created framed photo of the Sparda family in his office, along with a photo of Eva on his right side of his desk and a sketch of Carmilla ( that he drew himself ) on the left side.

For his bedroom, Vergil's aesthetic shows with white and blue. His bed has ivory colored satin-silk sheets and a light blue comforter. If he's not using The Yamato, it's upright next to his bed for easy accessibly if he ever is needed during the night.

The bathroom for the main bedroom follows a very organized system where everything is dress-right-dress, the same applies for his shower routine when he's getting ready for the day.

Back to his main room and in the walk-in closet, he has both attire from his time at temen-ni-gru and when he returned whole. Since time has passed he has gotten the proper alternations to get both outfits fixed, in addition to handful of business casual clothes for everyday wear when he's not working at Devil May Cry with his brother.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Hi there dude! Could I request a hc of being Wade Wilson's best friend because y/n and wade are such a chaotic duo but also dating nat and her just being so done with your shit most of the time? And if your cool with it could it include a little pregnant!nat like him learning that you guys are having a baby and insisting on being the cool uncle even though he literally has all the guy avengers as competition?

Wade is actually a very sweet man (especially once you get to know him), albeit unconventionally.

Natasha was in love with you, and you, her. But with you came your best friend. Which has always been a "con" to your relationship, but never a big enough one for her to even consider leaving you.

But that all changed when you decided to grow your small little family.

He cried when you told him. Wade had always loved babies and children, thinking them pure and full of unconditional love.

He was so excited to be an uncle for the first time. So much so that he... kinda went overboard.

Yes, he bought mini katanas for the unborn child.

Yes, he had custom onesies made. One that matched his suit. One that said 'My Uncles A Merc, I Can Do What I Want', another reading 'Uncles Favourite Little Trouble Maker', 'I Can't Wait To Eat Tacos', 'I Learned Everything I Know From My Uncle Wade, So Arrest Him Instead'. And so on and so forth.

Natasha wasn't so amused by most of those.

As soon as he heard the news, the main thing his wardrobe consisted of was 'uncle' t-shirts, which he wore with pride. Even going as far as to wearing a shirt over his suit, and say things like, "I'm going to be an uncle, you know? I'm so excited!" To the people he would be beating the shit out of.

He was around your place more and more, which only increased Natasha's disdain for the man.

That was until she realised how attentive he was.

Wade always brought her something she was craving when he came over. Be that a sandwich, KFC, some weird Russian food that you couldn't begin to try and say. Hell, he would even tap into her weird cravings, joining her in eating them. Even when it was that weird mushroom soup with chocolate sauce and pickled onions.

He brought you guys any pregnancy books you might have forgotten or didn't know existed. Insisting to read them all with you snd the red-head... but still having a little fun with it.

"Did you know that when you have a baby, that means you can never do martial arts again?"

"What?!"

"Ha! Got ya!"

She threw him out that day.

The pivotal point, however, was the day you and Natasha came home expecting to be met with an empty house and Liho.

But instead walked into the lights on, and the 'Grease' album blasting throughout the apartment.

That was the only indication you needed to know that there was no threat to be worried about.

Walking through the rooms you headed to the one where an accompanying voice belted the lines to 'Sandra Dee', with Natasha already looking done by your side.

But once you had entered the room you had declared the baby's her face fell, and a soft look over came it.

You had told Wade not even two days prior about how busy you and Natasha had been, and how you hadn't gotten the chance to begin decorating the baby's room, especially considering Nat couldn't do most of the work anyway.

But there he was, paintbrush in hand, dark emerald paint splattered over him and his burned skin, as he used it as a microphone.

You could tell he was only halfway through with his self-appointed task. Everything looked precise. Measured and lined off perfectly.

The man had been there during your and Natasha's discussions of the room. Throwing in his own silly ideas. Like that dartboard with Thanos' face pinned to it.

But there was none of that.

Only what you and Natasha had planned.

"What's all this?" you asked with a smile, causing the man to startle.

"Oh. Y'know, being Picasso. You didn't have time. And I have a lot, so."

"We didn't even buy a crib yet." You gestured over to the covered and built crib at the corner of the room, not touching the freshly painted white walls.

"Yeah, you were really lacking on furniture. I know I had a box under the bed for a crib, like I was a litter of kittens, but you don't have enough space for that."

"And what's with the rocking horse?"

Wade beamed at your question, swelling up with pride.

"I made it!"

And he did. His YouTube history was full of tutorials on how one would make a wooden rocking horse.

And okay... maybe the rocking horse fashioned to be a unicorn was a little weird, knowing how Wade was with the fictional creatures. But it was still normal in any childs bedroom.

"You... made it?"

"Yeah. Here's a tip, don't put your arm in front of a saw on a saw bench."

"You didn't learn that in high school?"

Natasha hadn't said a thing the whole time, and you were too bust conversing with your friend to notice.

Now, normally, Natasha hated being emotional in front of others, especially when it came to people she clamed to dislike.

But with the kind gesture, it had Natasha welling up with tears, internally cursing her hormones.

You and Wade were both shocked when Natasha moved forward and wrapped him up in a gigantic hug, crying into his shoulder while thanking him.

But the shock on his face was nothing compared to when he had come to visit the infant, after waiting in the hospital since Natasha had gone into labour, for the very first time. Only to be told that he was appointed as your son's Godfather.

Well... one of them.

(This was longer than I expected it to be)

[incorrectbatfam]

Headcanons about Batfamily secret santa?

Dick was the first to find a gift for his recipient. He walked past a pawn shop in Burnside while on patrol and spotted a stuffed animal in the window that was a teddy bear with an elephant’s trunk, turtle shell, and unicorn horn. His first thought was, “That is so her”

Bruce went with the utilitarian approach—he called up the developers at Wayne Tech and got the latest unreleased line of computers and up-and-coming software for his recipient

While Alfred is personally not a big fan of hard rock, he knows his recipient loves it, so he bought a box set with all of her favorite artist’s albums, wrapped each one individually, and hid it in various locations around the house. That way, if she finds one, then she probably won’t suspect the rest

Jason tracked down the only person in Gotham who owned a pair of 120-sided dice and offered guaranteed home protection from Red Hood in exchange for the d120

Tim had a couple close calls where his recipient almost found out but managed to keep it under wraps with a Christmas stocking decoy. The actual gift? An indestructible bedroom chandelier

Kate had an easy time getting her recipient his gift. All she had to do was make a couple phone calls and buy out a Hot Topic in preparation of a private My Chemical Romance concert

Carrie had a hard time getting the smarty pants owner of a sword shop to take her seriously, so she challenged the owner to a riddle contest, where, if she wins, she gets to take home the 12th-century katana. She won

Damian would rather walk on a road of hot coals than admit who his recipient was. His gift was a drawing of said brother and the brother’s team, which he rolled up like a scroll and sent Titus to deliver it

Similar to Carrie, Harper also had to visit a weapons store for her gift. The employees didn’t give her a hard time, but she had difficulty choosing what to get. Her solution: rent them all for a day and test them on the field. She chose a bazooka and wrote “BATMAN SUCKS EGGS” along the barrel

Duke had a hard time because what do you get for someone who can buy the entire world with her pocket money??? After asking around, he decided to compile a jar full of haikus and poetic encouragement to lift her up on days of self-doubt

Though she is an adult woman, Babs (with everyone else’s permission) made one of those kiddie coupon books offering different services to give her recipient a much-deserved break. Some of the entries: “Bruce will do the laundry for one week”, “A three-course meal from Steph”, “Tim will sleep for eight hours”, “One free zero-resistance Damian hug”

Rather than a physical gift, Cass planned the ultimate girls night with her recipient, including activities like paintball, street racing, and getting matching hair dye

For his recipient, Cullen got one real gift and one gag gift. The real gift is a vintage tank top with her favorite band’s logo. The gag gift is a potato with her face taped over

Like Duke, Steph had the issue of “what to get the richest guy in Gotham”. She got her inspiration at the library, where some kids were making macaroni necklaces at the craft table. Steph forced all the batkids to put on matching sweaters and smile for a photo. She then bought some craft supplies and painted a frame with everyone’s colors and decorated it with dried bowtie pasta and rhinestones like a kindergartener. It’s now his most cherished possession

(gift pairings are under the cut)

Who each batfam member was assigned to:

Dick: Carrie

Jason: Duke

Tim: Dick

Damian: Tim

Duke: Kate

Cullen: Stephanie

Stephanie: Bruce

Cassandra: Harper

Barbara: Alfred

Harper: Jason

Carrie: Damian

Kate: Cullen

Alfred: Cassandra

Bruce: Barbara

[champagneandparacosm-archive]

𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 // @outofairinmylungs When Luke asked to borrow the cabin for their haunted house, there was no hesitation for Joanna to agree. She barely used it after summer. Someone might as well get some use out of it. Mark, Orrie, Tanner, Luke, Milo, Dante and his girlfriend Katana and of course the host Joanna began carrying bag after bag of Halloween decorations into the cabin. The foyer still held onto the fading scent of sage from the last time Joanna had been up here. She cleansed it without fail before leaving the cabin to its own devices. She took great care of the place being in the family for generations. The mascot of the fraternity, Carter, weaved in and out of their legs, running in and out of the cabin through all the excitement. The trained service dog needed no leash, sticking close to his master.

Stuck in the midst of a conversation, Luke chided Joanna for falling for some asshat named ‘Chad’. “Seriously, what did you expect from a ‘chad’.” He meant no ill will, and yet he scoffed softly as he pulled out yet another tote of decorations from his car. Four of the guys brought their cars as well, all stuffed full of things they’d need. Even then, it hadn’t even scratched the surface of what they had at the house they’d bring over later. Today was just the cabin, the trail they planned in the woods needing to be set up the night before their extravaganza. “I didn’t fall for him, Luke,” She protested, eyes rolling. She trailed behind him, sighing with a sober agitation. “I said he got a girlfriend which fucked my plans. We have a good thing going: fucking no strings attached. I knew damn well he had no emotional attachment to me. It was why we worked so well… But then he fell for some bitch named Stacy or Trixie or whatever… And now I’m out a fuck buddy.”  And since Luke had gone monogistic, Joanna really had no one to fuck. Nor Maya or Sarah or- She knew Luke’s cycles. He stayed consistent until he felt like it was getting too serious and would ease up and branch back out to his friends with benefits. She had been the first, then Sarah, Maya, on down the line. Now Lydia was his recent infatuation. It was fucking weird why he didn’t just find a girl and allow himself to get close to them. Any of them. Maya was a good match for him, she really was. But he got spooked and backed off. They stayed friends, obviously, it was hard not to love Luke as one. He was a sweet guy. “You always have me, sweetheart,” Orrie chimed in, slowing up as he passed her, smile teasing and childish. She returned such a smile, her eyes rolling once more. Of course she’d always have Orrie. Orrie wasn’t likely to find a girlfriend because all the girls he attracted were cheating sluts. He didn’t roll that way. “Always you, sir.” Came her snarky reply, dropping the bags and surveying the crowded foyer spilling over into the kitchen. “Got some work to do, yeah?” Tanner commented, grabbing the last of it in their vehicles. “Yeah… And there’s a couple bags still with Lydia and Katie.” Luke began sorting. There was no time to waste. He wanted to get a move on, hoping that they’d get done by the early evening so the drive home wouldn’t be as shitty. Joanna already offered to finish whatever they didn’t get done, knowing their college schedules always fucked with her plans to see them. Luke just didn’t want to leave her with the stress. All of them combined should be able to do some damage on the cabin. 

[ryo-maybe]

WoL questions 1, 3, 5, 6, 9!

Why did they pick their first class/job? What about the job they main now?

Oh, I like this one. Rinne's starting class was Arcanist, which eventually led to her choosing the path of the Scholar. What is important to note is that the beginning of Rinne's journey as the WoL came at the tail end of another tale's conclusion. One which starred a naive Raen who, in the pursuit of a dream, ended up losing everything - even her self (do note that this is not a typo, for reasons that you are well aware of!). The protagonist of that tale followed the path of blade and gunpowder, paved it with blood and tears, and ultimately led her to cross the finish line alone. So, what is there left to do once everything is lost and destroyed? You rebuild. You create. You pen a new tale, with quill as your sword to spill ink across pristine pages. All she knew was that there was so, so much she did not. Thus, her first step into the unknown began with the turn of a page, followed by another, until tens turned to hundreds and tomes both dusty and glossy alike began to prepare her for everything she had yet to do, everybody she had never been. Like the bespectacled bookworm of a healer with a savvy glint behind her eye, and the eager smirk to match, one of many passengers on a certain boat headed towards Limsa Lominsa's famed docks...

3. Who do they worry about the most?

Her son the Vath Deftarm gave her some of the greatest migraines in her entire life, and she still checks in regularly to make sure that no hivemindy nonsense is trying to steal his personhood away yet again.

5. What is the first impression most people have of them? Is it different when they get to know them?

Now that's a fun one to think about! Getting to meet Rinne is not unlike rolling on a very extensive table of random encounters. The distilled essence of her character, her Core, is "Role of the Week". Role in this case must be read in its theatrical sense, although its practical application to a combat context is just as valid, more often than not. If her life were a series, Rinne would be an exciting hodge-podge of Kaiketsu Zubat, Golden Boy and Disco Elysium with all the naughty and depressing bits trimmed off. She speedruns lifestyles for a living, although her sincere enjoyment of the novelty that each new one entails tends to spill over.

You are the protagonist of your tale. She is the person you assume to be a side-character who will do her bit and quickly fade out of relevance at the end of the current intrigue, a mere observer, perhaps even victim of the circumstances. Until, upon nearing the climax, when everything's on the line and there's nothing to lose, the spotlights shine... but not on you. The katana gleaming as it deftly draws an arc to disarm the big bad is not yours. The extremely catchy tune playing in the background? Yeah, sorry, turns out you were the decoy protagonist all along. But not to worry! No sooner will trouble be dealt with than she will have already disappeared towards the sunset, ready to begin a new venture and leave yet another wondering... where did the ruse end, where did the truth begin? Ponder upon it, whenever you recall her wink-and-grin combo.

6. Is that their natural hair color?

100% natural. Whether her past experiences increased the rate of white-to-blue, however, is anyone's guess.

9. What does the way they’ve decorated their apartment and/or house (if they have one) say about them as a person?

That an interior designer will definitely not be the career path she will ultimately settle on. Her "home" is little more than a fancy storage for whatever furniture and paraphernalia she somehow happened to accumulate during her travels, haphazardly thrown in with only the barest minimum hint of planning and not even that when it comes to a unified sense of aesthetics. In other words, her home is a perfect mirror of its very absent owner.

[pillow-anime-talk]

mistletoe. {pt.1}

synopsis: A little joke on Giyuu, making gingerbread cookies with Edward and a date with Ryouta.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships; romance; fluff; sfw

includes: female reader ft. giyuu tomioka {kny} + edward elric {fma} + ryouta kise {knb}

part two {click}

author’s note: for @yvsevie​, my precious smol baby. i love you.

— GIYUU

It was the first Christmas you spent as Pillar, as Giyuu’s girlfriend, and as teacher of your first and also last tsuguko. You didn’t mind spending Christmas like this; frankly, could anyone think of feasting at the moment when bloodthirsty demons and other strange creatures were running around each villages or towns? That’s why you spent your time training in your estate with a young boy who would replace your Ice Pillar position in a few next days, weeks, months or years.

“... We should take a short break, right?” You asked, seeing your successor breathing harder and harder. “I’ll go get something to drink and you can sit on the engawa.” You put your katana into its scabbard and then headed towards your home. However, when you entered the small kitchen, you chuckled at the sight of Giyuu who was sitting at the table, drinking his coffee as if he were at his own home. “Well, hello. Why didn’t you say ‘Hi’ to me earlier?” You asked, taking out two glasses.

“You were training, so I didn’t want to disturb both of you.” He replied calmly, setting the black mug on the wooden table. “Are you two finished yet?”

“We’re taking a break.” You poured cool water and then you stood in front of your dark-haired lover. “You would like to sit with us?”

“Yes, why not.” He smiled gently, then walked with you towards the entrance to the pretty, snowy garden.

When you got outside, however, your frowned as you determined that your heir wasn’t in the garden. Instead of his light blue haori and long blonde hair always pinned up in a ponytail, you noticed a little, white note. So, you picked it up quickly and read the content on the paper:

‘Sorry, sensei! I forgot that I had to help my mom bake a cake for Christmas! So see you tomorrow.

PS. Look up :D’

You frowned, and when you looked up at the wooden roof of your engawa, your cheeks automatically flushed a bit at the sight of a small sprig of mistletoe attached to a wooden beam with a thin string. Giyuu glanced at the same place, and seeing the little plant, he only smiled slightly under his breath.

“Your successor is quite funny, don’t you think?”

“Yes. It is true. He will replace me very well.” You giggled, letting your mouth taste the flavor of coffee and something sweet that you couldn’t identify at first.

Nevertheless, this little joke made you feel the magic of Christmas, despite the lack of a Christmas tree or gifts, and you were incredibly grateful to your beloved student for that.

— EDWARD

“... Edward! Stop throwing flour at me!” You looked imploringly at your fiancé, and he just giggled as he looked away at the huge, metal bowl in which he mixed hot water with powdered sugar to make frosting to decorate your cookies. You sighed softly under your breath, then returned to kneading another dough with your hands. After a while, however, you felt the white dust, commonly known as flour spread around you one more time. “E-Ed! Please!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Do it again and I swear you’ll sleep naked outside.” You spoke in a serious tone of voice, even though both of you knew you would never let him freeze to death, much less during the holidays, even more the first holidays that were supposed to be full of guests.

Alphonse and Mei with the smol panda were to appear! Also Roy with Rize and dear major Armstrong. Of course, Winry with her boyfriend, her grandmother and their cute dog were also invited. Gracia with Elicia cannot be forgotten. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis too and even Ling Yao with Lan Fan as well. There were supposed to be many of your loved ones, so you had to make just as many food, cakes and cookies. And Edward didn’t make it easy for you, because instead of helping you, he was throwing flour, sugar, cocoa and edible, colorful sprinkles or glitter at you.

Like for example now; once again you felt something hit your head and it turned out it was a handkerchief, rolled in a small but quite hard ball. So, your hands  slowly backed away, then you wiped them on your red apron and you turned just as slowly towards your boyfriend, smiling at him as if you were telling him you were going to break his neck or crush his long legs. Edward, however, only chuckled and then walked closer to you with the same dumb smile he always had on his lips when he knew he had done something silly but funny.

“Sweetheart, don’t be upset. Christmas isn’t the time to fight! Better look up, my pretty angel.” His broad smirk made you sigh again loudly and loosen your tense arms. Nevertheless, you looked up and the first thing you saw was Edward’s hand holding a small twig of green mistletoe. You glanced at him again, laughing to yourself.

“How old are you to still play this?” You rolled your both eyes and was about to go back to your dark dough, but the blonde man grabbed your waist and pulled your body much closer to his more muscular one. He placed a tender, quite long kiss on your lips, and when the caress was over, Edward rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m old enough to still giving you stupid reasons to keep kissing me.”

— RYOUTA

“It’s... It’s so beautiful here.” You whispered under your breath as you looked around. “W-Woah. I...”

Kise took you for a ride in his car, however, two minutes ago he parked the car on the side of the road and then grabbed your smaller than his hand saying he had a little ‘surprise’ for you. Of course you went with him and it turned out to be a breathtaking view of the city, all lit up with colorful lights and sweet decorations. It was also snowing a bit so everything looked even more magical. You were incredibly surprised, of course most positively.

That’s why you turned to smile at the blonde-haired young man, and he only returned your facial expression, but then coughing delicately so that you would open the shiny eyes you closed a few seconds ago.

“You have a gorgeous smile and I love it the most in the world, but I think...” He started quietly, suddenly taking something green from his coat pocket. After a second it turned out to be mistletoe. You chuckled under your nose and your loved one looked at your flushed face again. “I think I deserve more, princess. All the more so because it’s Christmas day... You know.” He said in an amused, but still gentle and emotional voice, at which you only giggled again, standing on the tips of your toes or rather your shoes, to be able to reach his pretty face, and more precisely to his lips which tasted of coffee and chocolate-nut cake.

The kiss was slow, but very warm, and although your lips were cold due to the temperature outside, this peck gave the two of you a lot of heat on your hearts and cheeks. You even smirked during this wonderful caress, grabbing the boy by his soft, pale skin. The fabric of your wool gloves tickled Kise a little, but he didn’t pay much attention to it; instead, he kissed you once more, but this time on the nose that was red from the cold, and on the forehead, covered in the material of the cap, perfectly matching your gray gloves.

“... Thanks for showing me this, Ryouta. It’s really, really amazing.” You whispered, glancing once again at the colorful and white lights that decorated your whole city, including all the trees, buildings and houses. “I didn’t expect to see something like this in my life.”

“Then get used to it, because next year I’m going to take you to many other equally cool places.” The sincere tone of his smooth voice, and another short kiss on the cheek, made you cuddle closer to the side of his massive body.

In meantime, you still watched the magnificent sights and thought about where you both should go next time.

[imaeraser]

Playing With Foxfire Kin’emon x Reader (Modern AU) Ch 1

TW: power imbalance, cheating, and age gap

(2.1k words)

Kin’emon x reader x slight Sanji

Summary: You have a summer internship at the Kozuki company, and have to stay at Kin’emon’s home. You try to limit your attraction to the married man, but the flame of passion burns bright. And playing with fire can only lead to one thing— getting burnt.

AN: I originally did this for myself and my sister as a joke— since there is little to no fan fiction for Kin’emon— but decided to post it. Hopefully you enjoy and cringe at some parts.

I fumbled my way through the airport. The musk of others smudged onto my shoulders while I bumped down the path as if I were in a pinball machine. The sound of the wheels of my suitcase grounding me on Earth before all of my thoughts flew away.

   I raised my hand to shade my eyes as I stepped out into the open, while my foot jutted back from the force of the wind. I squinted down the road, but there was not an awaiting person in sight.

   I sighed, and sat down on a sun-warmed bench near a smoking man. As I grabbed the side rest, the tacky feeling of day-old gum made my arm jump in revulsion.

   “Ew, that’s so nasty,” I shook my arm as if the action would make the gum magically disappear, and then reluctantly started to pull it off with two fingers.

   “Here let me help you,” another set of arms entered my vision. The stranger pulled out a handkerchief and scraped any residue off of my arm jacket.

   “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver,” I turned to him, and stopped mid-thought.

   His eye was staring at me intently, but I could only appear to focus on his swirly eyebrow— his singular swirly eyebrow.

   “I think being a life saver is a bit of an over-statement, but I’ll take it.” He paused and tilted his head, yet the hair that covered one of his eyes did not budge. “Is there something wrong?”

   I paused, “No, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit air-headed sometimes.” I flushed as I rubbed the back on my neck.

   “Well, I think air-heads are cute,” he held out his hand, “Sanji.”

   “Y/N,” I said as I replied with a handshake.

   Once we retracted our arms he leaned over to his side, and proceeded to fill the atmosphere with the rottenly-sweet scent of tobacco. After a large puff, he released a light cloud into the air. The smoke got thinner and lighter as it floated up and died in the sky.

   “What brings you here Y/N?” Sanji held out an unused cigarette and raised an eyebrow.

   “I have an internship this summer,” I said as I shook my head and pushed the offering away.

   “Let me guess...” he paused, “ Kozuki?”

   “Yep,” I nodded. I threw another glance at the street, and the emptiness made my foot begin to tap the floor. “I think there was a guy that was supposed to pick me up.” I looked down at my phone- 4:57- a few more hours and I would no longer feel safe walking the streets alone.

   “If you want, I can drive you. Just give me the address and we’ll be on our way,” Sanji offered a handsome smile.

   My eyes quickly darted to his figure. He was tall and slender, but most of his form was hidden under a finely made suit. He shifted in his seat awaiting my answer, and the movement drew my attention to his abnormally built leg muscles. His demeanor was goofy, but I had only known him for a span of a few minutes.

   As much as I wanted to say yes, there were far too many episodes of true-crime documentaries watched for me to allow this stranger to drive me home.

   “No, I should be okay. I think I’ll wait a bit longer, and if he doesn’t show up I’ll call an Uber or something,” I said as I watched him lean back onto his seat.

   “Well, I’ll wait until you’re out of here safely. I can’t leave a lovely lady like yourself all alone,” Sanji smirked as he crossed his ankles.

   “Are you implying that I am incapable of handling myself?” I raised an eyebrow in  playful contention. He raised his hands as if to calm my rage.

   “Of course not, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he said, as I leaned back into the bench.

   Time quickly passed, and before either of us knew it we were watching the sky’s rolling clouds pull back and reveal an assortment of summer-time colors. The falling sun lit up Sanji’s flaxseed hair—spinning each strand into a gold thread. Perhaps it was a mistake to decline his proposal.

   “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I said, glancing back at my phone.

   “I’m meant to be wherever you are, mademoiselle,” he placed a hand on his chest.

   I picked at my nails, and rolled a strand of my hair between my fingers, “Stop joking, you could do way better than me.” He gently clasped my hands.

   “You’re selling yourself short. From the time I have spent with you I can tell that you really are gorgeous,” he looked me dead in the eye. The intensity and suddenness of his icy-blue gaze made me look away.

   “I’ll take the compliment,” I said, before turning my eyes to the side. To my surprise I saw a man holding a sign with my name on it. “It’s about time,” I shook my head as I looked back over to Sanji. “Thanks for keeping me company, but the dude finally showed up. I have to get going.” I stood up, my knees clicking from being immobile for too long.

   After waving goodbye, I dragged my suitcase across the concrete to greet the man. The closer I walked to him, the taller his looming figure became. As we both stopped our pace, my eyes widened in distaste as I looked at him.

   His top-knot bobbed as he tilted his head, which provided a stark contrast to his worn out graphic tee that was half-way tucked into a pair of cargo shorts. He took a step towards me as he outstretched his hand, and I heard a resounding wooden thunk. My eyes trailed down to reveal a set of wooden clogs and knee-high socks.

   “I am deeply sorry for being late, I was just a bit busy.” He rubbed his neck with his other hand, which revealed a raspberry colored hickey. I bit the inside of my cheek, as I looked to the side in disbelief— trying not to stare at anything in particular. “Oh, you must be looking at my car. It is an antique—”

   “Y/N,” I hurriedly shook his hand. “I believe I am to stay at your house during the entirety of my internship at Kozuki?”

   His heavily lined eyes blinked a few times before he opened his mouth, “You are correct. I am Kin’emon. My wife and I will be hosting you for the few months you are to be staying.” There was a glint of light that flashed as he moved his hand—which was seen with a golden band around his ring finger.

   “Thank you very much for generously allowing me to stay in your home,” we began to walk to his car. “Oh I forgot, the email asked the interns to check the id of the person who is picking us up.” I paused before placing my hand on the sleek metal of the door handle.

   “Yes, thank you for reminding me,” he slipped his black leather wallet out of his pocket and fished for his id. Once he retrieved the card, he placed his driver’s license into my hand.

   I pulled out my phone, to look at the email telling us about our host. After comparing the information, I handed Kin’emon his drivers license back. “Okay, let’s go.” I said as I slid onto the creme colored leather of the backseat.

   My fist supported my head as I watched the scenery meld together through the window. The sky quickly turned darker. My breath formed a little patch of condensation— due to the late hour and dropping temperatures.

   The car ride was quiet, with the exception of some traditional Japanese instrumentals. But before either of us would try and fill the silence with awkward questioning, we arrived at his house.

   I stepped out of the car, and heard the sound of the trunk opening as well as plastic wheels hitting the ground. While handing me my suitcase handle, his calloused hands brushed against mine. I whispered a quiet, thank you, before following him up to his home.

   He opened the frosted glass door, which revealed a quaint home who’s floor was covered in what I perceived as bamboo mats. We both entered the house, and the scent of fried bread crumbs as well as curry swirled around us. I caught myself nearly drooling down my chin.

   The sound of pots, pans, and utensils cluttering stopped as a woman in an apron stepped out of the kitchen. “Welcome home dear,” she said before turning to me. “You must be the intern. My name is O-tsuru, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” She dusted her flour covered hands on her jeans before offering me a handshake.

   I gave a soft smile as I shook her hand, “I’m Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you as well.” O-tsuru gently grabbed Kin’emon’s hand and led him to the kitchen.

   “Food is almost finished, we would be delighted if you decided to eat with us,” her voice echoed from the kitchen.

   I looked down at my half eaten sandwich from the airport Subway. The bread was chewy like a warm kneaded eraser, and the vegetables had an almost plastic sheen to them. “I would love to eat whatever smells that delicious,” I peeled off my shoes and set them near the door.

   O-tsuru’s head popped out from the kitchen, “Just sit for a bit, and we’ll be out with food in a second.” Following her instructions, I pushed the floor sitting chair out so I could sit on my knees.

   There were no legs to the chair, but seeing as the table was so close to the ground it did not present a problem. My eyes scanned the area of the house that was visible. There were sliding doors and paintings with Japanese characters drawn in sumi ink. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see something reflect the light of the overhead fan.

   I turned to my side and saw two katana’s on display, both identical in looks. Black lacquered wood, with the image of fire painted down the middle. It looked too gaudy for it to be used as a weapon. As I glanced over the other decorations in the house, I decided to place the swords in the same category.

   “Today we are going to be eating Tonkatsu Curry,” O-tusru said, as she clattered plates about to organize the table. I reached out to help her, but she swatted my hands away playfully. “You’re our guest, I can’t put you to work so soon,” she chuckled. I placed my hands back onto my lap, and waited.

   Soon enough Kin’emon brought out the food, and the scent of curry wafted over  from the pot. There was a plate set down that was full of pork chops covered in fried bread crumbs. O-tsuru set down a glass bowl full of lettuce— you could see droplets of water on the leaves.

   “So we have some Tonkatsu here, but if you can’t eat that we also have nato,” O-tsuru sat across from me.

   “What’s nato?” I looked at my bowl of rice, and sniffed it.  

   “It’s fermented beans,” Kin’emon took his seat next to his wife. “And if you’re allergic to anything here just let us know, I’m sure we can find something in the kitchen that suits your needs.”

   As we dug in, the flavors exploded in my mouth creating a lovely blend. The dinner was mostly quiet, with the exception of some basic questions to fill up the time.

   “I’ll let Kin’emon show you to your room. I have to wash some dishes,” O-tsuru grabbed a few plates as she stood up.

   While the sound of water and the clanging of dishes ensued, Kin’emon stood up, and walked over to my luggage. The slight crispy nosies of the mats under my feet amused me.

   “So...are the floor mats made out of bamboo?” I said.

   “They are made out of rice straw, they’re called Tatami mats,” he walked down the hallway, and placed his hand on the door, and cracked it open slightly. “This is where your room is, you can call either of us if you need anything.”

   I watched his silhouette as he turned around to meet back with his wife. Although he dressed like a patchwork dad and samurai, it looked as if he could still be a model for Calvin Klein. As he walked away, his muscles rippled under his skin. His arms were also well defined, but as my eye caught his ring I stopped

[chewiedon]

LONELY | TOMIOKA G.

MANGA SPOILERS FOR GIYUU’S BACKSTORY

request: “reader has been friends with giyuu ever since they were kids, way longer than he has been with sabito. giyuu deeply cherished the reader as his best friend, but once he met sabito and got along with him, the two began to drift. years later, the two boys were accepted into the final selection, meeting the reader once again who used this as a chance to see giyuu. realizing giyuu had abandoned the reader the whole time while he was training with sabito, he is distracted by those thoughts and accidentally gets killed along with sabito, thus leaving the reader alone again.”

LONELY | TOMIOKA GIYUU

(Y/N) and Giyuu were very energetic children. Their laughs were loud, and their patting feet were no stranger to the Tomioka house. (Y/N)’s parents left them at a young age, they were an orphan until a little boy with raven hair invited them home. The pair of children clicked almost instantly, there was never a dull moment with the two of them around. Playing pranks and jokes, building little houses made out of braided grass. Fueled with nothing but imagination and each other to keep them going.

However, all of the laughing and fairy houses ceased all in one night. (Y/N) remembered bloody, and the blood curdling screams of their best friend's elder sister. Heavy breathing and uncontrollable sobbing, neither of the children have seen so much blood. They couldn’t decide which was warmer, the soft embrace of Giyuu’s sister or her blood which stainted both Giyuu and (Y/N)’s kimonos. Demons. The wheezing and the racing of little legs, through the forest. Relying on lady luck to lead them out of the despair the duo were forced to succumb to. An old man took the two of you in, along with a boy with peach colored hair and a little girl with raven hair.

“Sabito!” Giyuu called to the peach colored boy who held a wooden sword in his hands, “Urokodaki-sensei got rice balls! Come help out!”

Ever since Sabito came into the picture, Giyuu has completely forgotten about (Y/N) entirely. As if they never existed in the first place, they were invisible to the only person that they wanted to see them. (Y/N) couldn’t help but envy Sabito, they stood in the exact same position Sabito was only a few feet away from him… Why didn’t Giyuu call out their name too? Why not, what was so great about Sabito, what made him better than (Y/N)? Their jealousy was soon replaced with insecurity as they stood across the small clearing. (Y/N)’s throat couldn’t help but tighten when the feeling of loneliness sunk into them and leeched off them like some sort of parasite. So unfair…

(Y/N) had spent countless hours swinging a wooden sword, fetching pails of water back and forth as part of their training as a demon slayer. When (Y/N) and Giyuu were picked up by an old man, he claimed he was a trainer which trained demon slayers, which were humans who fought the demon population despite their massive disadvantage. All four of the children were beyond determined to reach the title of demon slayer and take revenge on theirs and so many other families that have suffered great losses due to these monsters.

“Hey (Y/N), that means you too! Get over here!” (Y/N) snapped out of their own reality and shifted their gaze to the pink haired boy who stuck half his body out of the door to yell at them.

“Um, okay,” Was the only thing they could say before scrambling inside.

Three children and an older man sat in a circle with a hearth in the middle, all rolling onigiri balls into soft triangles. (Y/N)’s gaze couldn’t help but focus its attention on the two boys who whispered and laughed amongst themselves. Another pang of jealousy seemed to strike (Y/N) again, their body visibly tensed as insecurity creeped through their body. (Y/N)’s hands seemed to move less swiftly around the ball of rice.

“What’s wrong?” A sweet voice interrupted her again, (Y/N) turned their head to meet the sweet blueberry orbs of a little girl. Makomo.

“Is it your hands? It’s okay, Giyuu and Sabito are boys and boys' hands are bigger anyways. If you want to make bigger rice balls you can stick two of your balls together too!” Despite her cute attempt at distracting the (e/c)ed child was futile, but it helped distract them from the bad thoughts for a little while.

“Final selection takes place in a month, (Y/N) and Giyuu have yet to break their boulders,” The older man started, “You two have two and a half weeks, if those boulders are not sliced by then. I will not permit you to attend the Final Selection.”

(Y/N) let out a soft sigh, “We know, I’m almost there! Just wait Mr. Urokodaki!” Their mood seemed to do a complete 180, a determined smile smeared of their face while the raven haired boy stayed quiet.

Sabito egged Giyuu on as soon as the lot had stepped outside, (Y/N) would’ve joined him but it’s not like Giyuu would notice them at all. Instead of a wooden sword like they would normally practice with, a real katana rested inside a sheath that (Y/N) held.

“Are you going to try and slice your boulder?” Makomo asked, tugging on their kimono to gain their attention.

“Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing to have someone so much younger and smaller than me complete it,” They let out a cheeky chuckle, before running off into the woods.

That was the last thing (Y/N) had remembered, they were too drunk off of their own adrenaline to remember how exactly it happened. They felt like a feather, but at the same time they felt like they were something heavy. Maybe they shouldn’t have been able to cut the boulder, maybe that’s where it all went wrong.

Final Selection was an exam, a test of survival. No, it was a goddamn death parade. (Y/N) could hardly count the dead bodies of all the children that they ran past, their chest pounding in absolute terror. A cloud kimono and a unique fox mask decorated each one of the students. A rotten stink came from the demon that continuously taunted them, a century old being leading this entire massacre.

“There’s four of them, not one or two, four! How exciting~! Come out little foxes, let's play~!” It sang, it’s tone was sickening to hear.

Makomo and Sabito were in the air, bouncing off trees, rocks, each other, anything their feet could touch. Guilt and terror were the only things that Giyuu and (Y/N) felt. Violently eating at their stomachs. The two of them looked for an opening within the flashes of motion that Sabito and Makomo created. The two pairs of eyes darted back and forth around, Giyuu was having trouble controlling his shaking. His face was completely distorted, terror was the only thing running through his system.

(Y/N) took the butt of their sword and hit him in his back, “Wipe that stupid look off your face, I know your scared, but get your shit together! Sabito and Makomo are giving us openings, we need to make it count!” Giyuu yelped and lurched forward from the impact, his eyes meeting (Y/N)’s for the first time in what’s felt like forever.

Deep orbs of (e/c) that were filled with color and filled with emotion. When was the last time he gazed so deeply into those (e/c) eyes? The feeling of nostalgia hit Giyuu mercilessly, his movements were slowed and more sloppy as he thought about all the things he and (Y/N) did before everything bad happened. Before shit hit the fan, and it was about to again.

A large scream erupted from Makomo, Sabitio’s entire head was crushed and unrecognizable. Makomo screeched at the top of her lungs, panic and shock filled her little body 8as her movements became more erratic. Her emotions had completely taken over.

“Giyuu, (Y/N)!! Make a run for it, I’ll create more openings the best I can-” Her voice peaked into a yelp as the demon grabbed her small body and slammed it against a tree, the duo could almost hear her bones snapping out of place.

As the demon shifted his focus to the remaining two children, (Y/N) and Giyuu could hear little giggles coming out of the monster. The boy’s eyes completely flashed over his eyes while his legs seemed to become jelly. He looked at (Y/N) before hands ripped him apart limb from limb. He screamed, begging for forgiveness.

But not from God, from (Y/N).

The screaming and crying ceased after he was dropped on to the floor breaking his neck, he died immediately from the impact.

(Y/N) took the chance to run, run as far as their legs would take them. Lungs ablaze with rushing blood and adrenaline. Final Selection wasn’t some exam, it was a goddamn death parade and they became part of the show. (Y/N) finally left the wisteria hell, holding a fox mask attached to their side. They would never forget the soft cries of their mentor as they came home alone with a single mask. The deafening screaming of Makomo and Giyuu’s desperate pleas as he was ripped apart.

It was impossible to smile.

I've been working on this one shot for over a week HAHA