#like copy paste and read later dummy!

[verdemoun]

The non-warpers.

Mary-Beth Gaskill is regarded as one of the greatest female writers to exist, up there with Shelley and Austen. In the foreword of her best novel, she writes: “to Kieran.”

Orville Swanson’s annotations and teachings of the Bible are so influential; his attitudes towards different ways of life cause drastic positive change to how Christians act towards those of different cultures.

On what is now the main street of a large town Rhodes, a supermarket stands, modern as any other. Behind the till, Johnathan Pearson smiles at a now faded photo of eight people around a wagon, his grandfather Simon in the front seat.

Tilly Pierre dies of natural causes in her sleep, next to her snoring husband in the largest house in Saint Denis.

Mary-Beth absolutely is up there with Shelley and Austen, which means all the school aged babies come home complaining at least once about having to read her books. The whole gang scold them for whining only to pretty much do the homework for them because they all love her novels - many of which are basically her own take on fit-it aus.

The Lady of The Manor, for example, reads as a beautiful tale of love between Susan Grade and David Vincent fleeing police inspector Mellon to the islands with her niece and Mr Vincent's apprentice, only for Ms Grade to realize the curse David Vincent claimed to be under (that compelled him to commit increasingly heinous acts) was a complete fabrication. She banished him to isolation on his precious islands while raising her niece and the highwayman's apprentice as her own children in the new world.

Mary-Beth's dedications would never mention names for the sake of protecting her past as a VDL, but the gang suspected many were to them. One of the more obvious ones was a novel titled Strawberry Roan, which was dedicated 'to the one who helped me realise I could be happy without being in my head somewhere else'. Strawberry Roan reads much more like Mary-Beth writing a 'how to look after horses for dummies' as she learned to look after the horses the gang left behind, except for a slow burning love affair between protagonist Marie and a charming stable boy who is tragically forced to flee the estate to avoid being drafted and no doubt killed in a fictional war.

Orville Swanson was such a charitable and revered member of the community he not only accidentally founded a whole new branch of Catholicism based on his annotated bible, but remembered as a significant figure in recent American history. The gang still randomly find his likeness on commemorative coins in their loose change (and usually keep them).

While his church was accidentally destroyed in a fire several years after his death, a garden was planted on the site in his honor and memory. It's a major tourist attraction featuring Orville's Fountain, with wishing coins thrown in collected for donation to non-for-profits and community services that support at-risk teenagers.

His legacy shows everywhere in modern era America. Arthur one day got really lost in modern era Blackwater and needed to call the gang to come get him - only to find himself standing on the corner of Orville St and Swanson Boulevard.

Counter-claim Pearson lived long enough to see other grocery stores start to pop up in Rhodes as it became a bustling town and was afraid his little local store would be out-competed. Before he passed away he significantly expanded the local produce range of his store. By the time his grandson inherited it, it had become one of the best local delicatessen + sandwich shop in Rhodes and is often featured in top 50 places to eat at in America. Johnathan is also going to be featured later yoinking that character.

Not only is a photo of the gang, as passed down for generations, still proudly displayed (well, a slightly sharpened copy of the original photo, which is now kept in secure storage to protect it from UV), but his grandfather's treasured compass. It is a small shrine to his grandfather's legacy both before, during and after the VDLs: copies of his navy enlistment and honorable discharge forms, newspaper articles featuring photos of a post-canon older Pearson receiving awards for both his store, and having the best damn stew at the local fair.

Tilly Pierre lived a long and truly fulfilled life. She never knew discomfort. She found a man who loved her, and worshipped her for who she was and had always been. She saw her oldest daughter go off to marry a wonderful man who loved his mother-in-law as much as he feared her and would always treat her daughter right. She helped her youngest girl fight for the right for an education, and go on to a remarkable career. She raised sons that would never know the perils of turning to crime to survive, or fear where they would sleep that night. She died peacefully, in a bed more warm and comfortable than she could ever have dreamed of knowing in 1899, knowing every day of her life she was loved.

[i-choose-the-danger]

Lesson Learned

Whoa, new fic alert! I'm surprised at how quickly I wrote this one. Don't expect that speed to become a habit though. 😂 This is a Hogwarts Legacy fic, so obviously if you play the game or plan to and wish to avoid spoilers, you should probably save this fic for later.

Summary: Ominis has offered to help the new fifth-year student catch up on learning charms. Sebastian gets volunteered as tribute to be the student's practice dummy, and also learns never to go behind his best friend's back again. Fic below the cut.

**A little background info for those of you who don't know anything about the characters but still want to read it and not feel completely lost:

Ominis Gaunt (yes of THAT Gaunt family) and Sebastian Sallow are 5th-year Slytherin boys and they've been besties since they met at school

Anne Sallow, mentioned a few times, is Sebastian's twin sister who became too ill to go to school any longer and now stays home

Ominis is blind, born that way (not something I made up, it's canon)

The other student is the "main character" aka the player in the game/story, and they've started Hogwarts as a 5th-year so they have a LOT to catch up on

For the purposes of this fic, the character is a female Slytherin and I've named her Kathryn

the "Undercroft", where this fic takes place, is basically a hidden room in the castle that only Ominis's family knows about... Ominis only shared this secret with Sebastian who then shared it with the main character when he shouldn't have

I think that's all the background info you need to know if you don't know the game's storyline. Time-wise, this fic takes places somewhere in the middle of the school year, after Sebastian told the other student about the Undercroft and I'd say not long before they start looking for the Scriptorium for those of you who know the storyline.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kathryn anxiously paced in a circle across the stone floor in a corner of the Undercroft. Her nerves getting the better of her, she fidgeted with the spell book in her hands and began to rotate it cover over cover as she walked. There was a lot of work she needed to do if she was to get her magical knowledge up to snuff with the other fifth-years before the O.W.L. exams began at the end of next term. The one subject she seemed to excel at was potions, which Ominis struggled with quite a bit. In exchange for tutoring him, he had offered to go over charms he'd been taught in his earlier years. Kathryn was about to give up on waiting when she noticed the red glow pulsing and growing brighter near the entrance gate.

"Oh good, you made it!" Kathryn exhaled. She smiled as the gate lifted and Ominis strutted underneath it as he extinguished his wand. She took a seat on the floor, folding her legs underneath herself and placing the spell book beside her. "I was starting to think that you'd forgotten." Her fingers buried themselves in her long dark hair and twisted around the strands.

"I promised you that I would come. You know I'd never break my word. I had to make sure there were no prying eyes around." Ominis furrowed his brow when he realized her voice came from below him. "Are you sitting on the floor?"

"It's usually how I study."

"Well, that will not do. You deserve better than cold stone. Just a moment." Ominis didn't need his wand to navigate the Undercroft. Having spent so much time down there over the past four years, the area was completely committed to memory. He disappeared around a corner and came back just as quickly pulling what looked like two large green velvet couch cushions behind him.

"Where in the world...?"

"I deserve a medal for being able to memorize and navigate Sallow's 'organized chaos', as he calls it, down here." He handed a cushion to Kathryn and dropped the other behind himself before sitting down onto it. "Much better. Did you have anything specific you wanted to go over today?"

"Madam Scribner helped me find a copy of Standard Book of Spells for first-years with braille and said I could keep it for the term as long as I bring it back in perfect condition." She placed the book on Ominis's knee and kept her hand on top of the cover until he took the book in his hands. As he started to flip through pages, she added, "I feel silly having to look through a first-year book and not knowing some basic spells and charms. I really do appreciate you offering to help."

"I don't mind. Sebastian brought you here to have a safe space to practice, so it only makes sense to utilize your time learning what you can."

"I still feel bad about that. If I'd known it was your family's private-"

"Nonsense," Ominis cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That fault lies with Sebastian, not you. I feel awful about snapping at you when I found out, so I suppose that makes us even."

"Fair enough. I got up to page thirty-two before morning classes started. I managed to spongify one of my books, which was fine until I realized I didn't know how to undo it and it bounced around every time I put it down." Kathryn huffed at herself, taking a seat on the cushion Ominis had given her.

"Ah, rookie mistake. Always learn a counter spell first." Ominis turned several pages in the spell book. "Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two..." He brushed his fingers across a line of bumps on the page and let out a quiet chuckle.

"What?" Kathryn asked.

"It's an... amusing spell," he told her. Ominis leaned his head from side to side in thought. "It's not one you see used very often. I don't think I've ever seen it used during classes."

"Well, now you've piqued my curiosity." Kathryn craned her neck to try to read the page Ominis had the book opened to in his lap. She lightly tapped a fist against his knee. "Come on. I want to cram the past four years of your knowledge into my brain before Christmas break. What is it?"

"It's called rictusempra." Ominis grimaced as a small wave of embarrassment came over him. "It's a tickling charm," he added, angling his face down towards the book in his lap.

"I beg your pardon? You're kidding." Kathryn scoffed and looked up at Ominis, whose cheeks were now dusted a shade of pink. "You're not kidding. Is it that bad? What happens if I use it?"

"It's what one would expect. It hits you here," Ominis mumbled, bracing an open palm over his stomach. He stretched his fingers out and wiggled them around. "It feels warm and kind of fuzzy at first, but then it wriggles out and becomes increasingly unbearable. It tickles like mad and you have no way to block it because it feels like it comes from inside you, if that makes any sense. Ugh..." Ominis buried his face in his hand and could feel himself blush.

"You speak from experience. Sebastian used it on you, didn't he?"

"Oh goodness me, Sebastian knows better than to try something like that. He may be brash and completely reckless, but he's not suicidal." Ominis closed his eyes and laughed at a memory sparked from the conversation. He gazed in Kathryn's direction. "It was Anne, his twin sister. I can't remember why, but I was in a foul mood and they were having none of it. Sebastian tried to cheer me up and nothing helped. Then I heard her cast the spell and I reacted almost instantly." He shuddered and scratched around his torso as if he could still feel the effects of the spell. He felt a light squeeze at his ribs and jerked away from the touch with a gasp, swatting his hand out towards Kathryn. "Noooo no no. That's not wise."

"So you're already ticklish to begin with," Kathryn giggled. She thought for a moment and looked at the book that was still open to the spell page in Ominis's lap. "This doesn't say what happens if you cast the spell on someone who isn't ticklish though. Would it have the same effect on them or would it be useless?"

"You really do have a habit of making me think of things differently, don't you?" Ominis quirked an eyebrow while he thought over the question. "I actually don't know. And you're the first person I know to even ask. I suppose we'd have to find a willing practice dummy."

At that moment, they heard the gate open behind them and heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs through the chamber.

"Ahh, there you two are. I figured you had to be down here when I couldn't find you in the common room or Great Hall. I guess this means you're not mad at me anymore for letting Kathryn into the Undercroft?" Sebastian directed at his best friend.

"Of course not. I understand why you let her down here. Whyever would I still be upset?" Ominis's tone was less than sincere, but Sebastian didn't pick up on it. "You have excellent timing though, Sebastian. You're a perfect dummy," he added, smiling as he imagined the scowl Sebastian must be wearing.

"I am NOT dumb!" Sebastian put his books down on a nearby chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"He means a practice dummy. No one is calling you dumb," Kathryn said, scolding Ominis by lightly backhanding his shoulder. "Ominis has been kind enough to spend time teaching me some charms and spells that you learned in previous years so I can catch up."

"Is that so? I can teach you spells that aren't in those books too. Just say the word." Sebastian felt a small pang of jealousy in that moment, even though he would never admit it. "So why do you need me to be your practice smarty?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake." Ominis groaned and rolled his eyes.

"This spell has to be used on a person and I didn't feel comfortable using it against Ominis. Besides, I wanted to test a theory." Kathryn stood and held out her wand towards Sebastian. "Odd question: are you ticklish?"

"What?!" Sebastian squeaked. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and tried to remain calm as he took a few steps back. "I mean, of course not."

Sebastian glanced over at Ominis, who was wearing a smile that could only be described as pure evil. Ominis was fully aware of how sensitive Sebastian was, having heard him and his twin sister have countless tickle fights when they were younger.

"Oh, perfect! Let's see what happens then. Rictusempra!"

"No, wait!" Sebastian didn't have a chance to grab his wand and attempt to shield himself from the charm. A puff of silver glittery smoke shot out of the tip of Kathryn's wand and collided into Sebastian's torso. The boy gasped and instantly turned away from his friends as he doubled over, clawing at his vest.

"Did... did I do it wrong?" Kathryn asked.

"Not at all," Ominis replied in her direction. He stood and dropped the textbook back onto the cushion. "I suspect he's being stubborn and trying to fight it. What is he doing now?"

"He's kind of hunched over and jumping around like he needs to find a bathroom. I wish you could see him. It's utterly ridiculous." Kathryn clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her own laugh as Sebastian squealed.

"Rictusempra is meant to weaken your opponent. The spell starts to dissipate once its victim is too weak to function." Ominis heard Sebastian starting to hiss through his teeth to suppress his laughter. "Sebastian, you're only making it worse for yourself. And you're not being very helpful to Kathryn either. Bad form," he scolded. He cleared his throat to hide a deep chuckle when Sebastian squealed again. "She needs to see how these spells work to understand them."

As if on cue, Sebastian's legs gave out and he fell to his knees. He couldn't fight the wriggling sensations against his ribs and stomach any longer and giggles rumbled in his chest before flowing freely from his lips.

"Okay-hay-hay-hee-hee! She see-hee-hees!" Sebastian's dark hair was a complete frumpled mop over his eyes. His shirt was untucked and his vest was twisted around his torso as he continued to claw and swat at the tickling sensations pulsing through his body. "Please! I ca-ha-ha-ha-han't!" He was laughing so hard that his eyes were tearing.

"If you actually feel pity for him and want to stop the spell, there's another that would immobilize him. Simply aim your wand at him and say titillando," Ominis told Kathryn in a hushed tone.

"And that'll stop the spell?" Kathryn was skeptical knowing what the incantation translated to, but she knew Ominis wouldn't teach her a spell that would hurt someone. It seemed plausible to her that a counter-spell would have similar terminology.

"You have my word." It wasn't a lie... exactly. Ominis could never lie to her, but he was still quite the cunning Slytherin when the need called for it. He was also still annoyed at Sebastian for letting Kathryn into the Undercroft without his permission. There's that old saying about payback...

"Titillando!"

"Oh my God, NO!" Ghostly transparent purple-tinted hands appeared around Sebastian and started tickling any spot on him they could reach. He no longer had the strength to hold back his laughter and outright screeched before bursting into cackles and curling into a fetal position on his side as he repeatedly kicked at the air. "Help meeeee! I can't brea-hee-hee-heethe!"

"Ominis!" This time Kathryn backhanded his shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off balance. "He's going to pass out."

"He'll be fine. The little prat had it coming. Just give it a minute." Ominis continued to listen to Sebastian's deep laughter and occasional squeal, closing his eyes and laughing himself as it reminded him of happier times they had together before Anne had gotten sick.

"I do not want to be sent to Azkaban for murder! Call them off!" Kathryn tried to sound stern, but she knew Ominis could sense the amusement in her voice.

"Very well. Spoil my fun then. Finite incantatem."

As Ominis spoke the spell and aimed his wand at Sebastian, the ghostly hands vanished. Sebastian spread out his limbs, collapsing face-down on the stone floor and taking in gulps of air.

"Sebastian?" Kathryn bit down on her thumb and felt incredibly guilty as Sebastian lifted his head and turned it to face her. "Are you... okay?"

"Don't. Touch. Me. You two... are in... SO... much trouble... when I can see straight," Sebastian mumbled in between fleeting breaths and residual giggles.

"Me?! I just did what Ominis told me!" Kathryn glared at the blond. "You said that would stop the spell!"

"Did it not? I was truthful," Ominis stated with a shtug. A red light pulsed from the tip of his wand as he held it out and slowly stepped over to where he could hear Sebastian still panting. Crouching beside his best friend, he kept his voice low. "I thought you knew me better, Sebastian. I never get mad at you. I get even." Ominis extended an arm and felt around until his hand touched Sebastian's hair. He gave it a few semi-sympathetic pats before standing back up. "Although, I do confess that I may have gone a tad bit overboard."

"If you could see how destroyed he looks... Overboard is an understatement," Kathryn sighed. She offered her hands to Sebastian and helped him to stand.

"Overboard?! I almost died. I felt my soul leaving my body." Sebastian draped an arm around Kathryn's shoulders and leaned against her as his other hand massaged into his aching ribs. "I'll let you off the hook this time because you're learning." He glared at Ominis through the dark curls that were still matted against his forehead from sweat. "YOU on the other hand, you'd better sleep with one-" he caught himself in the middle of his own sentence as he realized what he was saying.

"Oh I dare you to finish that," Ominis hissed. He chuckled darkly. "Anne isn't the only one who knows your weak points. Perhaps I should teach Kathryn the body-bind spell next and you can show her how well it works."

"Perhaps you two can keep me out of your nonsense and just help me with my homework so I don't fail and watch you go on to sixth year without me," Kathryn interjected.

"Quite right. I apologize. We have work to do," Ominis admitted.

"I need a shower... and a nap now." Sebastian let go of Kathryn and stood up straight, wincing at the soreness in his torso from laughing so hard. "This is far from over though. Watch yourself," he added to Ominis as he passed by to head back to their dormitory.

"He's not serious, is he? I'm going to feel horrible if I started something between you two." Kathryn folded her arms over her chest.

"Not to worry. Our friendship is complicated, but solid." Ominis' jaw clenched as he thought about his siblings. "As I hate my actual family, I assume this is how real brothers would get along. He'll forget about it by tomorrow."

"I'll take your word for it. Let's go over a few more spells before dinner, hmm?" Kathryn sat back down and grabbed the spell book, flipping through pages. "Preferably some I can use in dueling. I have a feeling Sebastian won't go easy on me if Professor Hecat pairs us up again."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The end! Hopefully y'all liked it. I have other Hogwarts Legacy drabbles knocking around in my head too. I love these two Slytherin boys so much. 😭 As always, likes and comments and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged. Thank you! 💗💗

[yumeika]

The Sacred Sins of Father Black + Character Names

This book has been bouncing around my head for the past week or so and made me go out in the pouring rain to get my grubby little heathen hands on a copy of the Bible from the nearest bookstore to further understand Christian theology. Therefore, I’d like to get some of my thoughts out here. I’ll start with names here and talk about the chapters and themes in a different post once I’ve gathered more information since this post is already quite long. 

Quentin Day

Quentin of Amiens is a saint who was martyred in modern day Saint-Quentin, Aisne in France during the Diocletianic Persecution. He is the patron saint of prisoners and locksmiths - a fun little thing to keep in mind while you’re reading the prison breakout scene with Hamish in Chapter 19. 

I wasn’t able to find too much information on him, but it seems he’s quite popular in France, with many cities named after him. 

The surname “Day” has many possible roots, one of which is a derivative of the name “David.” I found this interesting - considering how his partner Hamish is portrayed and how a small but methodical act on Quentin’s part leads to the destruction of Hamish’s career and a catalyst for his death, this would make Quentin the David to Hamish’s Goliath. 

Another more obvious reason his name is Day is his role as the Sun at the end of the book. The character design of white hair + honey skin + dark eyes make me think of Yang, in contrast to Father Black’s light eyes + dark hair symbolising Yin. 

Hamish

There are two ways to pronounce this name: Hay-mish and Ha-meesh. The former is the Scottish form of “James,” a name meaning “supplanter.” The latter is a Yiddish/Arab name. I figured Hay-mish was the correct pronunciation for the following reasons:

The character himself doubles as both an antagonist and a symbol for a corrupt, self-serving government taking advantage of its citizens. Considering this story takes place in the US, a way to characterise this would be in the form of a white man who abuses his power. A white man of Scottish descent playing the role Hamish does in the story would be more fitting than having a white man of Jewish/Arab descent in that role.

“For a brief moment... like it was Hamish’s body they were carrying” to the well for a sacrifice. (Ch. 17, page 122). In the end, Hamish does end up becoming the sacrifice, “supplanting” the dummy and the other forms of sacrifice for the well.  

Just a hunch, but I don’t think Hamish likes Jews and Arabs and would go by something else if he had a Jewish/Arab sounding name lmfao

Sebastian Black

Sebastian is another saint that was martyred during the Diocletianic Persecution. There’s a lot to cover with him and I’m not sure where to start.

First, I invite you to look at paintings of Saint Sebastian on your search engine. Do you notice something? That’s right - a lot of them are drawn in an erotic manner for some reason or another. In fact, they are so horny that one of those paintings was the sexual awakening of Kochan, the protagonist of the book Confessions of a Mask.  Confessions of a Mask is an autobiographical account of the author Mishima Yukio’s life, and Mishima himself went on to pay homage to the painting during the later years of his life. Some articles even credit Saint Sebastian as the patron saint of homosexuals. 

Saint Sebastian’s influence on the LGBT+ community is wonderfully summarised here, and you can find various depictions of him drawn by more modern homosexual artists such as David Wojnarowicz and John Keith Vaughan. 

All that to say: it’s a good name for a sexy gay priest. 

Tying in with his association with the LGBT+ community, he is a patron of the plague-stricken - the litany and short film Sancte Sebastian ora pro nobis calls upon Saint Sebastian for protection against pestilence, specifically naming AIDS. I’ve seen a couple of articles saying the gay community in the 1980s also prayed to Saint Sebastian for their sick brothers, but I couldn’t find any primary sources.

While the community of Hopewell doesn’t have a plague, it does have the issue of being a town with little income. In Father Black’s words, “This town is dying.” (Ch 14, page 110), and he considers it his duty to carry on with the wine forgery despite the risks to help his people. 

Going back to Sancte Sebastian ora pro nobis, there is a part that states:

Use your unstoppable energy not to punish but only to humble those who dedicate themselves to oppression and evil.

And we know what happened to Hamish in the end.  ┐(￣∀￣)┌

There are a couple of other parallels I could draw, such as the two martyrdoms of Saint Sebastian and Quentin’s exposure to the forgery papers two times, but I feel like they’d be a bit of a stretch. 

Also, Saint Sebastian is the patron saint of athletes, and Father Black is mentioned to be quite athletic. You know that man is ripped from carrying around all those chairs for Sunday school. 

The surname “Black” could be complimentary to Quentin’s “Day” and Father Black’s role as the Moon to Quentin’s Sun. It is also a colour primarily associated with sin.

Lindsay Woodmancy

This is probably another stretch, but Lindsay’s name is associated with linden trees, a symbol of Freyja and Aphrodite - both goddesses of love and fertility. Like how the name of the bar being “Bacchus” is a nod to the town’s wine and cultural practices, Lindsay’s name is another reference to the non-Christian practices we see in Hopewell. 

But this is also a name you can get from pulling up a name generator, so take this one with a grain of salt. 

[tathrin]

4, 6 + 17 for the fic writer asks?

Questions from this list.

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Ooh, this and this and this make the top of my list for "things I wish I'd write someday but probably never will."

So like if anyone else ever does...please tag me!!!

6. the word that appears the most in your current draft

First, very pleased and mildly surprised to find that word counter can indeed handle 320k words, huzzah!

Secondly, I am so fucking relieved that it isn't "indeed," because I over-use the FUCK out of that word, and I've been trying not to, whew!

Thirdly, the actual answer: "ALL" (1660 times, 2%) follow by "FRODO" (1093 times, 2%). Also for the sake of transparency, I suppose I should tell you that this is including all the notes-to-self and half-formed plotting bits and pieces and character descriptions, etc etc etc., because no way am I taking the time to go through and only copy/paste the actual story bits.

(Also, apparently it would take 29 hours and 40 min to speak the story aloud lol.)

(Also-also, its lists it at "11th-12th grade reading level" which is fascinating??? How are you judging that, wordcounter.net? Vocabulary probably, I guess? idk but: fascinating! Now I'm going to have to paste in some of my other works to see what they come up as haha.)

17. talk about your writing and editing process

I pants it. I completely and utterly pants it. I am trying very very hard to learn how to pants less, but. I am at heart still a pantsing-it writer, even when I do slap-down a bit of an outline/plan to follow.

So I just kind of start writing, and jump around sometimes to jot-down ideas/sentences that I know I want to hit later, and then jump back and write some more, and then jot something down, and then come back and pick up again...

Sometimes I'll write scenes completely out of order in the longer stuff, especially if it's an ensemble cast situation where there are multiple plot-lines happening with different groups.

Then when I edit, I basically just read and re-read and re-re-re-read my way through, looking for typos or "oh shit I literally just said that exact same thing a sentence ago, dammit!" incidents, or places where I can tweak the phrasing (again and again and again) to be just a little bit better...

Basically: I edit by fiddling. A lot.

Think of it like a sculptor carving a piece out of stone: just keep chipping away at it until you unearth the thing beneath; or an oil painter slathering more and more and more layers on top lol.

I'm a MESS. But I have at least learned to write the damn idea down, sloppy and fast and quick, before you fucking forget it you dummy!!! so that's something!

Thank you for asking! And especially thank you for asking #6, because I had no idea that wordcounter.net was such a fun little thing!

[moriiartist]

(CALL THE) NUMBER OF THE BEAST

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Demon!Tangotek x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: You thought it was a joke. A goof. A funny ‘ha-ha’ story to tell to your friends later- how you tried to summon a demon. However, things haven’t exactly gone to plan, and now you’re stuck trying to send a resident to hell back to where he belongs. Too bad that he’s decided that’s wherever you are.

WARNINGS: Language, body horror, demonic imagery, blood and injury, self-mutilation/self-harm (as part of a ritual), fire, implied/referenced murder

A/N: Hey there demon(s), it’s me, ya boi. I lowkey may have stayed up past midnight to get this out on time, but we’re not going to talk about that!!! I had a lot of fun with this fic, and I really think it shows. Enjoy!

The chalk slid smoothly over the kitchen tile, the soft, rasping sound that it elicited filling your ears. Dust as black as pitch already coated your palms, the pads of your fingers, your skin- smeared shapes like the handprints of an absent-minded artist.

An intricate pattern of concentric circles, squares, and lines spread like flowering nightshade from where you were, kneeling in the center. They, too, were as dark as if they had been burnt into the ceramic; the loose powder surrounding the thick, confident marks looked like ashes.

Sitting back on your heels, you inspected your work with a critical eye. A hundred bucks was a hundred bucks, and if you didn’t at least try one of the spells in the old, creepy grimoire you’d found in the attic, you weren’t getting a cent.

Actually, in that case, you’d be getting negative cents. 

You’d like to think that you were a reasonable, well-adjusted person. You’d finished college and gotten your degree, you worked a six hour shift at the local bookstore, and you put in an effort to keep in touch with your friends.

Which is why summoning a demon was somewhat uncharacteristic for you.

Your college roommate had invited you to hang out at their house last weekend, and of course, you’d accepted. They, a couple of their buddies they’d brought along, and you started drinking. You got buzzed. Then, naturally, you all started talking about random shit.

Of course, that random shit included all the weird and probably-cursed cult paraphernalia that had been left behind in the house that you’d moved into.

Your roommate had dared you, words almost slurred beyond comprehension, to try out one of the spells you’d found. At this point, you were nearing the point where you were starting to black out; your brain was starting to shut down, but your body got all ‘eye of the tiger’ and soldiered on.

So, like a dumbass, you agreed.

And bet one hundred dollars on it.

(To be fair, you never said you were smart. Just reasonable.)

You honestly felt quite silly standing there in the middle of your kitchen, staring down at the dark symbols you’d copied with a painstaking hand. Although you’d fully committed to winning this stupid bet after five days of twiddling your thumbs, you’d underestimated the amount of time it’d taken to get through the ritual. You’d started at around seven thirty, and it was now almost one.  

In your defense, the book wasn’t easy to read. Most of it was in some strange, latin-like script that hurt your eyes if you stared at it too long; words slithered across the paper like rattlesnakes if your gaze unfocused for even a moment.

Luckily for you, however, you had ignored the ominous thoughts in the back of your head that begged you to stop now before it was too late and managed to reach the final step in your handy dandy ‘how-to-summon-a-demon-for-dummies’ guide. Hooray!

All that was left was the sacrifice.

Stepping back, careful not the smudge the chalk lines that were already starting to flake from the combined force of the AC system and the vibrations of your footfalls, you crossed over the salt circle that enclosed the whole shabang.

Tea candles- those little ones that you buy in bulk to put in Jack O’ Lanterns- flickered ominously, crackling and spitting not dissimilarly from oil in a pan. You had dimmed all sources of light beyond those candles and the nightlights plugged into the wall, so the flames cast eerie, dancing shadows all over the room.

You grimaced, regarding the kitchen knife placed on the counter next to you. The blade gleamed red and gold, flashing as you delicately picked it up.

The sight of blood wasn’t new to you, nor did it freak you out, but drawing it from yourself was an entirely different matter from the times you’d fallen and scraped your knees as a kid. It was different when you were doing it- when you were drawing blood from yourself intentionally. It made something underneath your skin writhe with discomfort.

Steadying your grip as much as you could, and ignoring the slight tremor in your hand, you pressed the point of the knife to the meat of your thigh. You’d read somewhere that the fattier parts of the body the better regarding pain- and you weren’t about to stab yourself in the ass.

You gritted your teeth as you drew the blade across your skin. A part of you wanted to shut your eyes and look away, but the more logical side commanded you to pay attention despite the sharp, stinging pain. 

Despite the shallowness of the cut, it was already bleeding profusely. Rivulets of thick, coppery liquid already ran down your leg, dripping down onto the flat of your bare foot. In the low light, your blood almost looked as black as the chalk still coating your palms. The air filled with the faint scent of metal and salt. 

Hastily, you set the knife down with a clatter. Pressing your fingers to the wound, you hissed at the sparks of pain that erupted from the contact. Blood mixed with the powder on your hands, coagulating into a sludgey mess that clung to your skin.

You flicked some of the mixture off of your hands and into the circle, pursing your lips to soften your disgust. The book had never specified how much of your blood should be used, and although you really wanted to win the bet, you weren’t about to sacrifice a pint to a ritual that might not even work.

A mix between a groan and a gag tore itself from your throat as you pressed a palm flat to your wound, watching more blood begin to drip from the gaps in between your fingers. With your other hand, you reached blindly for the tape and gauze that you’d set aside specifically for this moment, tearing a thick wad of the stuff off with your teeth and messily taping it to your thigh.

It wasn’t really sanitary, but then again, it wasn’t as if anything else you were doing was.

Fumbling with the book, you winced as you smeared chalky blood over the pages- staining the fragile paper with black-grey-red fingerprints. You flipped through the pages somewhat frantically, muttering curses to yourself as pain once again twinged through your leg. After a tense moment, you exclaimed softly to yourself.

You’d highlighted the incantation to summon the demon, and the garish yellow-green pigment now glared up at you from the page. The book must’ve been made with parchment or something, because the color was soft and fragmented at the edges unlike the clean, hard cut of highlighter on printer paper.

Clearing your throat, you ignored the way the letters slipped in and out of focus, mirage-like, and began to read.

“Primo ad nonum daemones,” you incanted, nearly choking as the syllables ran like water from your mouth, “vocationem meam audite et attendite.”

Immediately, the guttering tea candles stilled. Every dancing flame went straight and tall, burning white-hot. The dimmed lights buzzed, and an electrical hum seemed to fill the air. Your stomach swooped- the same sensation that one would beget standing at a precipice. 

“ Sanguis meus gratis inferis datus est, et mihi paciscor.”

When did it get so cold? Your skin was chilled and damp with sweat, breath stuttering in your lungs from the shiver that wracked your body. The low hum that filled the back of your mind seemed to intensify. Static was all you could hear.

The voices whispering in your ear shrieked soundlessly, then disappeared.

“Caro mea velamen tollit, ossa mea signaculum portant, et anima- et anima mea ligat.”

Each word that escaped from your mouth burned your tongue like a firebrand, each more painful than the last. You felt like you were choking on your own blood as you spat out the last syllable, shuddering uncontrollably.

At some point, you had dropped the book. It was burning, delicate paper and dark leather cover flaking into ashes.

You couldn’t move, could hardly breathe; With each passing moment the pressure inside your chest increased, like someone had gripped your heart and decided to squeeze. Distantly, you recognized that your limbs were trembling.

“Quod fit non recipi.”

The lights cut out, and, like a great exhale of breath, the candles extinguished.

Shit.

For a few heartbeats, the only sound was your ragged breathing. Then, something shuffled in front of you. Something hard and sharp slid across the tile, sounding an awful lot like the knife still resting on the countertop. 

Freezing, you felt your heart began to beat faster, hammering at your ribcage. Even your chest stilled, and you swallowed thickly to suppress a whimper. It smelled like a nauseating mix of sulfur and your own blood.

“Well,” a masculine voice murmured, tone colored with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “It’s certainly been a long time since someone’s had the guts to summon me.”

In a blink, the lights were reignited. However, instead of the warm, yellow hues that you’d been familiar with your entire life, they were blue. The tall, still flames that rose from the candlewick looked like they’d been carved out of luminous blue ice, hardly seeming to move.

You’d be more awed by it if you weren’t distracted by the dark figure standing in the center of the ritual circle.

It wasn’t very big- only a few inches taller than you, if you had to guess, and shaped like a person; two legs, two arms, and a head attached to a torso. However, everything about it was off. 

It’s arms were too long, fingers tipped with glossy claws brushing the sides of its knees. It’s legs were longer at the ankle, forcing it to balance on its toes. It’s proportions were too different- like a poorly made puppet.

Every movement, from the tilt of its head to the roll of its shoulders was too smooth, too easy. Like there was no muscles, no internal structure to add resistance. You couldn’t contain your gasp as it’s neck made a horrendous, wet crack, spinning well past the limits of the human body to survey the room.

A long, black tail snaked out from behind it, pooling to the floor. Shards of what looked like volcanic glass were embedded in its forehead in the mockery of a crown, dripping with black and red blood. Similar pieces were buried in its spine and shoulders, bristling like spines.

“Shit,” you murmured.

With another snap, its head spun back around.

The demon’s face was pale, almost bloodless, and you could see the spiderweb of blue-black veins that ran below the surface. Pitch black holes were nested where its eyes should be, white, cat-like pupils narrowed in on your trembling figure. It grinned as you made eye contact, running a blue tongue over- what the hell, how many teeth does this guy have?!

If you squinted, it would almost look human. A spiky, aggressively emo human- but a human nonetheless. However, since you had somewhat of a sense of self-preservation, you weren’t doing that. No- you were wide-eyed and gaping, glued to the floor as you stared at the monstrosity before you.

“Excuse me,” it chirped, looking far too smug for its friendly tone to be genuine. “You summoned me, didn’t you?”

You blinked down at what remained of the grimoire. “... I guess.”

It grinned brilliantly, still with too many needle-like teeth. “Excellent!”

Then, it stepped over the salt circle. You hardly had time to squawk before it had seized your chin in its hands, turning your face this way and that as it inspected you. You would’ve pulled away, but the brush of the demon’s talons against the delicate skin of your throat was enough to have you falling still.

Every piece of media about demons you’d ever seen were different, but one thing seemed to largely hold the same: they couldn’t cross salt circles. It was one of the only effective ways to trap them, besides silver mirrors and maybe not summoning them in the first place- at least, according to what you’ve seen.

And then this asshole goes and dropkicks that knowledge into the fucking sun.

“Oooh,” it hummed, gaze calculating. “You’re a looker, aren’t you.”

It glanced down towards the hasty bandage job you’d done, a sly smile playing on its lips. It reached down, either oblivious to or ambivalent to your protests, and ran a finger through the still-drying blood.

Licking its hand clean, it’s pupils flared, growing to the size of nickels. “Tasty, too.”

Regaining your nerve, you shoved it away, stumbling back. It watched you go with an almost disappointed (?) expression, folding its arms across its chest. You finally stopped when your back hit a wall, refusing to take your gaze off the creature in front of you.

“... What the hell,” you managed to croak out. Was this shock? Were you going into shock?

The demon smirked. You were really starting to hate it when it did that.

“Indeed.”

Picking up the knife you’d set on the counter, it toyed with blade, whetting it against its talons. It paused, looking at it contemplatively, before rolling its eyes back to you.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, you nodded. While you were seriously regretting your decision to summon a demon of all things instead of, like, one of the easier spells, you didn’t see a point in lying to it about that. As far as you knew, magic wasn’t real up until two minutes ago.

The demon sighed. “Alrighty then. I thought you would be- it makes more sense.

“So, this is how this thing works. You ask for something- I don’t know, you want some guy who crossed you to mysteriously disappear, endless riches, fame and beauty- and I make it happen!”

It’s eyes gleamed red. “For a price, of course.”

Despite your fear, you deadpanned. The last thing you were doing was signing a deal with the devil. “No, thank you.”

“You don’t have a choice,” it countered. “You summoned me. I can’t return back to my realm until our, ah… business is complete.”

You threw your hands up. “Well, I’m not selling my soul or whatever else a creature of darkness would want!”

The demon pouted, looking almost offended for a moment. You didn’t trust it. “Hey- rude. Depending on the boon, I would only ask for, like, your childhood memories. Maybe your firstborn?”

“This is not helping your argument,” you sighed, glaring at it hollowly. It stared at you, grin melting until its expression was blank and unreadable. It’s tail lashed, slashing bluntly at the floor.

“If you don’t make a deal, I’m stuck here with you,” it cautioned once more.

You bared your teeth at it. “Fuck. You.”

It blinked, and for a moment you thought that this was it, you were going to die. Your last moments would be spent with a creature that wanted your soul for nefarious purposes, you would never get those hundred dollars-

The demon laughed, nearly doubling in on itself from the force. After a few seconds it looked back up at you, wiping a tear from its eye that sizzed as it hit the floor. In a blink, it was in front of you, staring at you with blown pupils. 

“You’re delightful,” it whispered, sounding awfully delighted itself. “This is going to be so much fun.”

You blanched as it took your hands in its own, flipping over one to press a sharp kiss to your inner wrist. The demon grinned up at you, sly.

“Good luck getting rid of me now, angel. I’ll have your soul whether you want me two or not.”

It stood up, lengthening the spine until it towered over you. Its pupils burned in the shadows cast across its face, exactly the same as the flames at its back.

“The name’s Tango, sweetheart. You won’t forget it.”

There’s no turning back now for you- you were his. Tango would make sure of it.

@blufr0st​ @itsonlydana​ @amearla​ @bapthadapper​ @redactedsouls​ @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish @blockyshieldmaiden  

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

For All That Was Lost

BLEACH Anime Celebration - Day 3: Loss

Rating: K+ with mild themes

Setting: Sometime before chapter 686, during autumn or winter.

Synopsis: While on a visit to the World of the Living, Shinji and Momo reflect on what was lost and what was saved.

AN: so this is a little bit late, due to 1) the original copy not saving properly, and 2) becoming unwieldy and going from 700 to 2000+ words. Anyhow, I present a brotp fic with one of the best captain-lieutenant duos. This may or may not have been a deleted scene from my other fic As Months Go By, As Season Change slightly remodeled for these prompts; you don’t need to have read it (or part 2 whenever it comes out) to understand what’s going on here. Also, it just dove-tailed from the last fic I wrote, To Give Your Shelter.

Also, in case you’re wondering, this is what Shinji is wearing (minus the beret and fancy shoes).

I hope you enjoy this one!

___________________________

“This is hardly warranting of a video, sir.”

“But it’s a historic moment! Hold on a sec.”

Momo loses the fight to not smile as her captain fishes his denreishinkai out of his coat pocket with his free hand.

All around them, humans walk past, some glancing at Shinji while he unlocks his phone and gets the camera ready. Momo knew even before they’d arrived at Karakura Town he would choose to dress to stand out, and he didn’t disappoint with the pale purple turtle neck, baggy coat, and orange-tinted sunglasses with the attached chain looping around the back of his neck. She’d gone for something tamer – a pale pink sweater, black and white pleated skirt, and dark stockings – which got a mocking sigh of disappointment from her captain. ‘Honestly, Hinamori, you haven’t been keeping up with the trends of the World of the Living!’ he’d teased.

Well, looking around, she’d say she was closer to whatever clothing trends humans had in this city. When he finally has the camera ready, she sighs through her nose. “How about a photo instead?”

He looks at her from over the sunglasses, and she looks right back, unyielding. It’s a staring contest for almost thirty seconds when Shinji gives her a defeated smirk. “Well, I guess it’s a good compromise.”

He shuffles next to her and leans back, holding the denreishinkai far enough to get both of their heads and the café behind them in view. “All right, hold up your coffee.”

She does so and widens her smile into a grin.

“To trying café coffee for the first time!” he cheers, ‘clinking’ his foam cup against hers.

“Honestly, sir,” she chuckles.

He snaps a few pictures, with only difference in any of them being one without his sunglasses; she likes that one best. She makes a mental note to get a copy from him later.

“Right, let’s get going,” he says while putting his denreishinkai away. “Hiyori’s gonna kick my ass if we don’t get to the warehouse on time.”

They start down the bustling street, passing an array of shops and restaurants. Momo begins to wish she’d taken more than one day off to visit the World of the Living; there’s several shops she would walk into and an izakaya she could see herself, Rangiku, Toshiro, Izuru, and Renji going eat at.

Shinji starts on his double espresso, and after the first sip, gives a long, approving hum. “Now that is coffee.”

He looks at her expectantly. Momo will never understand how the most trivial things are get the most authoritative looks out of him.

“It still feels too hot,” she says with a nervous chuckle.

He shrugs. “Just don’t let it get cold. It’ll tastes more bitter. It’s not like iced coffee when that happens.”

“Iced coffee? You can have it cold too?”

“Weren’t you paying attention to menu boards?” he chortles.

“Honestly, I couldn’t get over the pastries they had there.” She grins. “They were so pretty! I almost bought one.”

“Well, why didn’t ya?”

“We wouldn’t have time to eat it. Besides, it’d probably get messed up on our way to see Sarugaki-san and the others.”

“They have containers to stop that from happening, dummy.”

“Oh.”

He glances over his shoulder, the café almost a tiny rectangle in the distance. It’d too far for either of them to run back and get anything.

Momo waves her free hand. “If I have time on the way back, I’ll get something then.”

They continue on down the city street, weaving their way through groups of humans. Despite their brisk pace, Momo takes everything in. Some of the stores and restaurants remind her of those in Rukongai, and some of the technology is similar to what had recently been developed by the Twelfth Division. She’s never seen so many humans before, nor such tall building in the World of the Living. It’d been decades since she last in this world, and until now she’d only ever heard about it’s development from Shinigami who were sent on patrols to the cities and towns.

She looks at her captain when they stop at a traffic crossing. Despite what he wore and his bright blonde hair, he oddly fitted in with the rest of the humans. The way he held himself, slightly hunched in the shoulders and a hand stuffed into his pants pocket, it not only made him appear more casual - not that he was ever as stoic or formal as some of the other captains were in the first place. He’d lived this world for over a hundred years, probably knows this town like the back of his hand, it’s understandable he’d feel relaxed being here.

Momo decides if they have time, she’ll ask him to show her the places he’d worked at and question him and the other Visoreds about what had changed the most in Karakura Town.

At the green light, they cross to the other side. Along the way, a strong gust of wind blows through, causing Momo and most others to huddle in on themselves. Shinji though remain standing straight, his coat and the chain attached to his sunglasses blowing out behind him as he takes another sip of coffee. For a moment he looks like one of the models from one of the magazines he read.

Momo chuckles, tempted to get her denreishinkai and take a picture.

“What’re you laughing about?” he asks once they reach other side of the street and into a courtyard.

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, it’s gotta be something or else ya wouldn’t…” He does a double take, gaze going over her head. “No way!”

Momo blinks and comes to a stilted stop. Her captain is frozen with his mouth agape. Following his line of sight, he’s staring wide eyed at a shop on the opposite side of the courtyard. AB Cookies.

“Do you know that place?” she asks.

“Yeah, but last I saw it, it was on a different street. She must’ve moved it.”

“She?”

“Kurosaki Orihime.”

Momo’s eyes widen. “I had no idea she worked in a bakery. Is she the manager?”

“Co-manager.” Shinji checks his watch, then looks between further down the street and AB Cookie. After a beat, be mutters under his breath, “Screw it.” Then, to Momo, “You’ve met Orihime before, right?”

She nods.

“Well, I’m thinking you wanted to get something before, and I guess we shouldn’t come empty handed if we’re late.” Without warning, he walks speedily towards the bakery. “So, we might as well get a peace offering before we arrive!”

Taking the hint, she catches up to him.

Walking into the bakery, Momo is greeted by various sweet scents and brightly colored decor. There are only a few tables and chairs inside, all of them up against the wide windows that look out onto the courtyard. The glass counter is full of pastries, and the wall behind it lined with different breads. Some baked goods look like nothing she’d ever seen, and upon reading a few of their labels, she raises a brow.

“Raisins and leek?” she says under her breath. “Strawberry and seaweed?”

Shinji doesn’t notice her bewilderment as he sidles up to the cash register.

“Yo, anyone in?” he calls out. When no answer comes, he tries peering through the doorway off to the left of the breads. “Says it’s open. Maybe she’s-”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Orihime walks through the doorway, wearing a uniform that matches the sweet aesthetic of the decor. “Welcome to AB Cookies, how can I….?” She blinks at Shinji, who just grins back in return. “Hirako-san!”

“Nice to see you, Kurosaki.” He gestures to Momo. “You remember Hinamori, right?”

Momo quickly straightens and bows her head. “It’s good to see you, Kurosaki-san.”

“Likewise, Lieutenant Hinamori. What brings you both here? Are you visiting?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately we’re short on time,” Shinji answers. “Here to visit Hiryori and the others.”

“Ah, I see. We saw them just last week actually.”

“For real? Why?”

Orihime’s smile turns rueful. “Kazui went off exploring and bumped into Aikawa-san. He brought him home before he could wonder into the warehouse.”

“Geez, kid sounds like his dad, wondering into places he shouldn’t.” Then, with a teasing lit, “You were a bit like too, now that I think about it.”

That gets a nervous chuckle out of Orihime. “I guess so.”

Shinji leans an arm on the counter. “Next time I’m here, I’ll swing by and see Ichigo too. In the meantime, I came by to see if you could give me your best donuts.”

Orihime grabs a nearby pair of tongs and gestures to a cabinet on the right. “How many would you like? We do a special for a dozen.”

“A dozen it is!” Shinji turns to Momo. “Which ones do ya want? Or would like something else?”

Momo would argue that he didn’t need to pay for her snack, but she knows he’ll insist until they get into an argument which would probably make them late.

That, and the donuts are all very cute. Most looked like animals, including a cat with chocolate whiskers and a rabbit with almond ears. The few that didn’t have an animal design were glazed in fluro colors with floral designs in white frosting.

She points to the donut shaped like a tiger. “I’ll have a yuzu one, please.”

Shinji makes a choked sound. Glancing up at her captain, she discovers he’s trying to withhold laughter. She goes to ask what’s funny, but he’s quick to start picking the other donuts.

As Orihime bustles about folding up a box and putting their selection into it, Shinji asks her about Ichigo and Kazui, the store, and a few people Momo assumes are humans.

However, she doesn’t listen to their conversation, instead becoming focused on Orihime herself. To think one of the saviors of the Soul Society runs a bakery. Considering her role in the war, it’s humbling to find out she lives a life like this, with a family of her own and in a job that’s far more peaceful than a Shinigami’s.

She smiles so brightly, even after everything that happened. Everyone had moved on from the war and Aizen’s betrayal in their own, but some still struggle to do so. They can’t forget what they saw, or what they lost, or who they’d lost.

There are times where Momo suddenly remembers someone who was no longer alive; a subordinate or seated officer, a friend from another division, and sometimes someone who is alive but had lost a part to themselves – whether it was a limb or an aspect of themselves hardened by what they saw and experienced. She also remembers wonderment some had in their eyes as they spoke of the World of Living after coming back from a posting, hoping to go back again when they were on leave and see and try thing that were unlike anything in the Soul Society.

“Oi, Hinamori.”

Momo blinks out of her reverie. “Captain?”

Shinji and Orihime look at her, the former with a slight furrow in his brow and the latter holding out the box of donuts to him.

“You spacing out?” Shinji asks.

“Sorry! I was just thinking, that, uh…this bakery is amazing. Kurosaki-san, did you bake everything here yourself?”

Something changes in Orihime’s smile, but Momo can’t put her finger on it. Regardless, Orihime answers, “Oh, thank you! I bake most of it with the help of Harumi-san and Ito-kun. They’re on their break right now, otherwise I’d introduce you to them.”

Momo manages a smile. “It looks like a lot of hard work. I’m looking forward to trying the donuts.”

Shinji takes the box of donuts and turns back to Orihime. “As is, we’ll be back for more some other time. Say ‘hi’ to Ichigo and Kazui-chan for me, yeah?”

After bidding farewell, they’re quick to return to the courtyard and speedily walk to the warehouse.

For Momo, stepping back out is like being in a different world. At least the Arrancar and Hollows were aware that a war took place, but no one here would except those who had been at the battle itself. A small part of her bitterly thinks how none of the humans anywhere will ever know of the sacrifices made or the lives lost to save them all. Perhaps more than that though, she’s sad that none of those who are gone will ever get a chance to do what they wanted in the World of Living. Some may have already reincarnated as a human, but they aren’t the same person she knew them as.

“Looks like you’re spacing out again.”

They’re on a different street now, heading towards a park only a few feet away. She’d barely notice the change in scenery, nor how slow their walking pace had become.

As they cross on to the path that winds through the park, she sighs. “I was just thinking that this world almost vanished during the war.” She swallows against the lump building up in her throat. “We’re taught our duty as a Shinigami is to maintain to balance and project lives that aren’t involved in our world. The humans will never know that, and it’s better of course that they don’t, but even so...”

She tilts her head back, watching the clouds move by through the leaves and branches that arc over them. Shinji’s face loses any traces of humor as his gaze falls to the ground.

When he says nothing, Momo starts to ramble. “Hirose-san wanted to go to a flower festival in the country side. She heard about it while on a posting in a seaside town, a lot of the residents traveled from there to go. She wanted to see if all the flora there was like ours.

"Hoga-san and Domen-kun both wanted to go to a beach, neither of them had seen the sea before. They also wanted to go to the bars and see if the drinks here taste any different from those in the Rukongai.

"Funai-kun wanted to go to a festival here. He said he saw something called a Ferris wheel and wanted to go on it.”

An amused snort comes from Shinji. “That right? Thought he didn’t like heights.”

“Are they tall?”

“Yeah. You get into one of the carts on this massive wheel and they take you up for a spin.”

“That sounds strange.”

“Nah, not like a fast spin. It’s slow so you get to take in the scenery.”

Momo smiles. “That’s probably why he wanted to go in one. He wanted to look for a new landscape to paint.”

They come to a natural stop at the side of the path. Though the look Shinji levels at her appears nonchalant, she knows better.

“I get it," he says, "but this is the way it has to be.”

“...I know.”

“Like you said, it’s how we’re trained to think. We screwed up in the past with the Quincy and others, but I’d like to we’ve finally learned from it.” He takes a sip of coffee and ponders for a moment. “We’re also taught to lay down our lives for our friends and family. In doing so, we can go knowing we fought with everything we had, that we protected the worlds for all the inhabitants.”

And this fleeting feeling, of nostalgia and fondness, collides with what Momo sees all round her.

Surrounded by leafy green trees and shrubs, flowers swaying in the breeze, and humans, gathered as families or friends or alone on park benches, it’s all life. The children can continue to laugh and smile, the adults can keep their heads up and continue to try to provide for and help each other without being burdened by something so existential. To wish that they knew about the war that almost made this world vanish would not only burden them, abut also be a disservice to the friends and subordinates she’d lost, who gave their lives to ensure no one suffered. That the wonders this world has could continue to amaze the humans and Shinigami for decades to come.

“If there’s one thing I learned while living here it’s that human screw up, a lot. Some more than others…”

Her captain’s words stop her from becoming overwhelmed. She looks back to him, about to question him, but stops when his smile returns a fraction.

“But there’s that chance to change,” he continues. "Not everyone takes it, but for those that do, for those who choose to do the right thing, for those who choose to keep walking after going through hardships, I think that’s reason enough to keep this world.”

Momo is momentarily speechless, taken aback by the uncharacteristic sentimentally of her captain. “That’s…awfully wise for you, sir.”

He blinks at that, and then laughs in shock. “What kind of back-handed compliment is that?!”

“Ah, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just…I’m not used to speaking like that.”

“Well, when you get to my age, you learn a lot. In fact, get your denreishinkai out and write down whatever I just said! We’re gonna write it as part of a field report for today.”

She laughs at that. “Sir, we’re not on duty!”

Shinji starts laughing too. “Doesn’t matter, our division’s gotta know what they’re fighting for and that’s the best way I’ve ever worded it.”

Her smile is wide as she shakes her. "I'll type it up later."

Shinji points to her cup as he takes one last sip of his own. “Still haven’t tried your coffee. Has it gone cold?”

She'd almost forgotten about it. “It’s still warm.”

Momo finds herself looking around the park again, at all the humans going in and out. Then, she raises the latte to her lips and takes a sip.

For all that was lost, there was much more still alive.

“It’s good.”

___________________________

BONUS SCENE

Momo goes to knock on the warehouse’s entrance, but Shinji steps in front of her.

“No need. Besides, you’ll want me to go in first.”

Momo raises a brow at that, but doesn’t say anything as her captain opens the door. He starts to announce their arrival when a red blur comes barreling towards them, jumping from somewhere up high and landing right in front of Shinji.

“You’re late!” Hiyori shouts.

Shinji scrambles to put the box of donuts in front of him and raise its lid. “Do you really wanna ruin these?!”

Hiyori pauses, one of her sandals raised high. She glares down at the donuts, eyeing each one as if assessing an enemy. Shinji doesn’t move a muscle, not even to reign in his deep-set scowl or look back at Momo. It was as if he were a student waiting for the approval of a teacher who is always hard to please.

What feels like a minute later, Hiyori sniffs, then lifts her foot and puts her sandal back on. “Fine.” She snatches the box from Shinji. “At least you got enough for all of us.”

“You’re welcome” Shinji snarks as she steps aside to let them in.

Hiyori ignores him, instead nodding at Momo. “I bet you’re the reason he isn’t twenty minutes late, but he’s the reason you’re five minutes later. If you can get him down to two minutes, I’ll shout you dinner next time you’re here.”

Shinji gawks. “Since when do you pay for other people’s dinners?”

“Since she’s had to put up with you, Baldy!”

Momo edges her way past the two as they get into an argument. She meets the gazes of the remaining three Visoreds. Aizawa slowly makes his way towards her and Hachigen follows.

“Hinamori-san, right?” Love says as he nears. “Didn’t really get a chance to speak back during the war.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, Lieutenant,” Hachigen greets.

Although she feels a slight thrum of anxiety, Momo is surprised how calm she is. Perhaps because she met them during the war before they went to the Soul Palace, and they’d help seal the cracks between the Soul Society and the World of the Living; without their efforts, who knew how the war would’ve turned out. Before any of that, she’d seen and heard Shinji speak to these people over the denreishikai. He’d talked about them both fondly and in annoyance, but she could tell the connection he has towards them ran deep.

“Hello, Aizawa-san, and Ushoda-san” she greets in return with a bow of her head. “I’ve looked forward to finally speaking with you all.”

[sungie]

mock-flight: inumaki x reader

a/n: HELP

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, blood mention

masterlist

It started a few months ago, when Inumaki decided it would be fun to sneak out past curfew. Live while you’re young, he’d hounded you, copy and pasting the simple sentence and sending it over and over until your phone became a collection of notifications and pings dedicated to “stupid onigiri boy”. It started when night swallowed stifled giggles as the two of you ran across streets, watching in awe as neon lights accentuated a darkness soon violated by car headlights and the warm glow from the nearby konbini.

Inumaki beelined straight to the stationary section, sporadically turning his head to make sure you were following. He may, or may not, have held your hand. But he also made you hold each stack of origami paper dumped into your arms as he selected the patterns he liked best, carefully checking tiny-print labels to ensure he had more than enough to make mistakes. Sakura floating from tree branches. Child-like star designs. Fancy, gilded curves.

Later, as you walked to the check-out with Inumaki’s origami paper and two packaged anpans, you watched as he pulled up a Reddit post about ‘how-to-fold-cranes-for-dummies”, shoving it towards your face. It was too close to read, and too disorienting to react to. All the while, Inumaki was fishing in his pocket for yen and already paying for both your items and his.

You were mad. You wouldn’t have bought pastries if he was going to buy it for you. But walking back through familiar darkness with the warm anpans between your mouths felt like something out of a dream, and you couldn’t stay mad for long. It was a delirious exhilaration; one of being somewhere you weren’t supposed to with the person you would have pulled your entire left lung out for, all at once.

You supposed it was the anpan and cold nipping at your cheeks that made the both of you less sneaky than before. And while you weren’t quite sure what you expected to return to, it definitely hadn’t been a Gojou appearing from behind the school gates, gleefully assigning three hours of communal-kitchen work meant for “naughty students who thought they could break the rules”. Although, you were fairly sure he wouldn’t follow up on it, seeing as he escorted the two of you back to the dorms with poorly-hidden pride.

Inumaki and you stayed up all night puzzling over the intricacies of folding cranes. The warmth extended from anpan to the heat of his shoulder brushing against yours as you huddled together in a blanket, laughing at first-time crane attempts. Pulling open wings to view a finished product led to atrocities with elongated necks and rectangle tails, crumpled bodies, and smudged beaks from imprecise folding.

Even then, it was clear what Inumaki was doing. There was a legend about these cranes, one you heard murmured in lullabies and bed-time stories passed down over the years. One thousand origami cranes granted you a wish from the heavens. Any wish. Inumaki wouldn’t tell you what he planned to wish for, despite your prodding and whining.

But muscle memory came quickly. You no longer needed to frantically tap Inumaki’s phone to keep the pixelated instructions visible. They were confusing and explained the reverse fold terribly. Inumaki gave up a while ago, deciding to forgo all instructions.

So it was surprising when he gifted you his first successful crane, pressing it into your palms with a cheerful smile. You’d given him yours, too, just for fun. And definitely not because he looked disappointed when you didn’t reciprocate.

But while you only stayed to learn the process, Inumaki kept at it. You thought the whole thing rather irritating, but as you watched him, it became evident this was more than just repetition. So much more. There was an art to the way his fingers pressed against the origami so gently, the way each fold lined up so precisely to the edge, the care he took in nudging the last triangle fold of the neck, and then the final pull to open wings with curious anticipation.

The senbazuru hanging from his wall grew each day. It constantly changed, fluctuating with cranes, and colors, and designs, and string. Sometimes you would join him in his leisure time, standing on a stool to attach whatever crane he was folding, the paper bird dangling in mock flight.

Every night, you would see a glow of light peeking through the crack of his door. You weren’t a fool, you knew he was inside folding those cranes in a desperate trance. He wouldn’t sleep enough, even as you knocked on his door with exhausted eyes and grumpy words.

One thousand cranes. Inumaki could never keep track of things, and neither could you. To compensate, he taped a long sheet of poster-paper to his wall, scrawling inked tally marks and numbers and dates. As time passed, the poster-paper grew with scribbled out numbers, smiley faces, and phrases of encouragement. It went without saying that his were more profane, even border-line self-deprecating. You scribbled them out and replaced them with something sweeter. Or meaner, if you were in the mood.

Inumaki never admitted it, but you’d seen the flushed smile on his face every time he read what you had written.

Sometimes he was outside more than inside. It became common to find him resting in the grass while he was supposed to be training. He told you the folding was relaxing, and that training wouldn’t matter. Not when this was all over. After he finished each crane, he tossed them to the side, a cluster of origami creations surrounding his head in an aura of elegance and flight.

Nine-hundred cranes.

For a while, he stopped. When you peeped into his dorm, he would strangely avoid the tallied poster-paper. He spent a lot of time coming to yours, sprawling on the bed, or cuddling up to your side to peer at what you were working on.

When you attempted to ask him about it, he covered your mouth. He wouldn’t allow any mention about cranes, and seemed to reset blankly whenever his eyes reached the senbazuru. For the first time in months, the cranes stayed stagnant.

It worried you. Even without the multiplying cranes, he still wouldn’t get enough sleep. He would doze off at lunch break, and the dark circles under his eyes were all too evident.

But that ended as soon as it came. He couldn’t resist.

Now, he hums as you approach, cheerfully dropping the origami creation from his hands to wave in your direction. “Konbu,” he calls, gleefully. He holds up nine fingers, then eight, then two. Nine-hundred eighty two.

Even from this distance you can sense his grin. Even with his uniform collar zipped up past his lips. His eyes glow. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy.

He still won’t tell you what he plans to wish for. Even at nine-hundred eighty two. He meets your questions with nervous grins, shyly holding a finger to your lips as if to tell you that it’s a secret. A secret he’ll share soon enough.

You tell Inumaki that if he wishes for something lame, like long life, you’ll throw him away. He responds with a teasing shove and chases you around the complex.

Except, he should have finished already.

His text rang in fifteen minutes ago, as he spammed your phone with texts in all-caps:

ONLY ONE MORE ONLY ONE MORE ONLY ONE MORE !!

Nine-hundred ninety-nine.

He was supposed to be folding it right now. Inumaki doesn’t take fifteen minutes to fold a single crane. And especially not if he knows it’s his last one. Yet there’s nothing. No read receipt to your texts, nor an elusive cloud bubble that appears when he types.

You hesitate barging into his dorm and entering anyway, but something nearby clatters to the ground. A laugh escapes your lips, despite yourself.

Okkotsu’s clumsy, he likes to drop things and it’s even worse because it’s entirely on accident. Having his dorm to the right of yours is rotten luck. He’ll knock over books, or stumble over his feet, and once you swore he fell out of his bed because he was laughing too much over a text Inumaki sent.

You’re midway through clicking Okkotsu’s contact to tease him, when you hear Inumaki’s voice yelling "blast away" muffled through the wall.

What?

Maybe it wasn't Okkotsu, who dropped something. The flower pot near your desk topples back and forth, jolting to the floor. Jujutsu instincts send you lunging forward, the phone falling from your hands. You’re close, the clay terracotta scraping against your fingertips, but then you’re grasping air, gasping as the breath squeezes out your lungs and your body propels backwards.

There’s a strange thing that happens, in events like these.

Wood splinters, there’s a white-hot flash reverberating through your ears. The flowerpot crashes against the floor and fractures into shards.

It always feels like this. Your mind tumbling in spirals, the world spinning and mind blanking. The first time you felt this--felt shock-- you froze. But experience jolts through your neurons like a temporary back-up charge, and you’re scrambling from the floor, throwing the door open and bursting into Inumaki’s room.

Cold breeze stings your eyes; it whistles through a gaping hole in the wall. Inumaki’s senbazuru is gone, a handful of cranes and string scattered around the floor. You reach for one, wincing at the crumpled head, the torn wings, the way it’s violently pulled apart at the folds. He put so much time into these. And as your gaze travels through the room, you notice Inumaki slumped on the floor.

He turns his head miserably but won’t meet your gaze. A sleeve runs across his mouth quickly, but it’s no use. Red smudges against his chin and the corners of his lips. He can’t contain the cough that sends him wheezing and reaching for the vial of throat-medicine on his desk, except he hesitates, slowly drawing his arm back and clutching it to his chest.

Inumaki’s sunk to the floor in the center of the dorm, surrounded by broken cranes and torn string and wood flakes drifting through the air. He’s caught in the epicenter of it all, holding something in his palms.

It’s a crane. An intact one. It’s poorly folded, a crane that looks nothing like those he folds. You swore he ran out of that star design months ago: it’s messy, and unprofessional, and even a little elongated, and it’s … yours.

You step towards him, gingerly avoiding the crane remnants and wincing at the crumple of paper beneath your feet. When you kneel down, he’s crumpling into your arms.

Inumaki doesn’t react too much. He usually shuts down when he’s upset, deciding it’s better to zip the collar up over his lips and stay silent until whatever he’s feeling passes over. But you’ve never seen him like this.

His body wracks up and down as he tries to repress everything, but another wave of exhaustion crashes over him and soon he’s sobbing into your shoulder, his hands fisting against your back in a desperate attempt to convince himself you won’t leave.

“Toge…”

Hot tears seep into your uniform. He’s hiccuping, gasping in short breaths of air.

His throat. You carefully drag him along with you as you reach for the medicine on his desk, hastily uncorking the vial. “Here,” you murmur quietly, “drink this.”

Inumaki stiffens against the crook of your neck. He shakes his head.

When you continue to look at him, your gaze burning into his peripherals, he draws his head up. And he refuses it. He won’t say anything, just clamps his mouth shut. He keeps his mouth shut even as he flinches away to wheeze, a dribble of blood escaping to stain his bottom lip. He’s shaking again, even worse, now. And at this point, you don’t think it’s from sorrow.

When he turns back, you nudge yourself closer to cup his face in your hands.

Inumaki stares at you numbly. His eyes aren’t focused, they’re spaced out and cloudy. You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek, his hands quivering behind your back.

“Please, Toge?”

There must be something in your expression, because his face crumples. He blinks back tears, nodding miserably. He reaches for the medicine, but you stop him, gently pushing his hand away.

It smells like syrupy bubblegum and sugared honey, and Inumaki grimaces. His lips part reluctantly, and when he gazes at you, his expression makes it clear he’s only doing this because of you.

Your right hand leaves his face to tilt the medicine into his mouth. Little doses at a time. You thumb the tears away with your other from where they collect at his bottom lashes, leaning forward to press a kiss to his hairline.

As you cork the medicine and he slumps against you, you let your gaze wander to the mirror thrown to the floor, and the missing senbazuru, and the remaining cranes crumpled and torn. You remember the way he wouldn’t reach for his throat medicine, and the clear repulsion he’d shown at the very suggestion of taking it.

It’s a sorry sight, a painful one. You don’t know how a late night adventure could have led to this. You should have realized earlier, how he felt about his cursed speech.

Because looking around the room, you think you know exactly what he wished for. Yes. You know exactly what he tried to wish for.

[soulmate-game]

Can you do a prompt of Marinette being the daughter of the Joker and Harley but Harley left him before Marinette was born and when Joker found out about his daughter He decided to kidnap Marinette so she can become like him (Ace chemicals) (Daminette)

Woot, my first ask in a while! Let’s see how I can do this oddly specific ask that reminds me of a fic that might actually exist but tbh I’ve read so many fanfics idk if my brain is remembering right

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette knew Sabine and Tom weren’t her biological parents. She had known ever since she was eight, when her mother by blood visited her for the first time, sat her down, and explained everything. Including, but not limited to, her disastrously toxic past relationship, her new girlfriend, and her recent success with long term rehab (unofficial rehab that mostly consisted of illegal anti-hero actions, but hey if it worked it worked).

Marinette understood. Well no, she really didn’t since she was only eight, but she understood that her mom— that Harley— was genuine. She had always had a knack for emotions and telling when people were sincere or not. And Harley really was regretful about not being in her life beforehand, and was serious about wanting to be part of her life now that her own was mostly sorted out.

So Marinette was not surprised when Harley really did stick it out. When Harley cooed over Marinette copying her hairstyle to show her support of her biological mom, when Harley never failed to call at least once a week even if she was in jail for punching some asshole or another. Harley never stayed arrested long anymore, she was usually found to be on the right side of the moral scale more and more often so the police didn’t bother keeping her locked up anymore. Through the years, Marinette always looked forward to her mom’s calls. Looked forward to being lulled to sleep by one crazy story or another from her mother’s past. Everything was nice. Perfect, even, for a while.

A thump sounded from her balcony, one late night when Marinette was thirteen. Blinking, the dark haired girl furrowed her brows. Who would be on her balcony? Cautiously walking towards the trap door leading to it, grasping her metal pencil holder as a weapon (she remembered all of her Mom’s stories about break-ins and random attacks back in Gotham), the teen strained her ears. Akuma attacks were only a few months old now, but she had already become in high alert for any sign of Hawkmoth or his victims. As per usual, Marinette’s paranoia began to kick in. Did Hawkmoth already figure her out? Was he here for her earrings? Would she be able to fight him?

She gently pushed up the trap door, catching a glimpse of black leather. Huh? Marinette narrowed her eyes, confused. Was it Chat? He should have been on patrol, on the other side of the city. What was he doing visiting her?

Suddenly the trap door yanked the rest of the way open, making Marinette yelp as the handle for it rugged away from her fingers. And there, backlit by the pure blue-white moonlight, was Not Chat Noir. It was Catwoman, in all her skintight black leather glory, grinning at her before pushing her cat-eye goggles up to the top of her head and crouching down by the trap door’s entrance, balancing only on the pads of her feet.

“Well hello there~” the woman purred. “So you’re the cute little kitten Harley is so secretive about. Nice to finally meet you,” the woman held out a hand, sending Marinette a sweet, if mysterious, smile. For a while, the pigtailed girl only stared before a squeal of excitement left her throat, leaving very little room for any doubt as to her bloodline. A large smile curled over Marinette’s lips, leaving her beaming widely at the catlike woman on her balcony.

“Auntie Selina! Mom’s told me so much about you! Come in, come in, come in! I’ll sneak some macaroons up for you. Or do you prefer croissants? What’s your favorite flavor? Are you really dating Batman? Oh my goodness, that necklace is so lovely! Did you steal it?”

Selina could only chuckle fondly at the word vomit, letting the smaller girl drag her down the trap door and into her very… pink room. Looking around, Selina was once again slapped with just how similar this kid was to her outgoing friend. Marinette clearly had no shame in indulging in the things she liked, such as the color pink and anything regarding fashion. But there were other things amongst the girliness of the room, like the posters of Jagged Stone and the training dummy half-sticking out of her closet door. There were a few ornamental knives hung up behind her computer, seemingly just for decoration although Selina could see that they were definitely battle ready and sharpened. A small mallet, clearly a miniature replica of her mother’s own signature weapon, leaned up against the side of the girl’s laundry basket. But then there was Marinette’s mannequin, which was surrounded by meticulously cut pieces of cloth and had other pieces pinned to it strategically. Marinette clearly had the same professionalism and love for her chosen career that had so completely defined Harley in the Time Before Joker. The same genius intellect hiding in those deceptively cheerful bluebell eyes. And for the first time, though not for the last to be sure, Selina found herself thoroughly relieved that it seemed Marinette had inherited very little from her father.

Except, as she would learn from stories Harley told her later, an apparent affinity for chaos.

“I’m not that picky, kitten. But I’m not that hungry, so don’t go too out of your way,” Selina decided to just react the same way she did with Harley’s rambles, and answer one question at a time. “Also, I am actually dating Bruce Wayne. But, if you promise not to tell anyone—“ she waited for Marinette’s eager nod before continuing casually, “— the two are maybe not as mutually exclusive as many think,” Selina finished with a conspiratorial wink. “No, I actually did not steal this necklace. Bruce has been adamant in trying to curb me of my thieving habit by buying me almost everything I so much as glance at sideways. It’s sweet. Naive, because I like stealing for the fun of it, but sweet.”

Marinette giggled, bouncing in place happily. She loved a bit of innocent gossip like this. “Is Momma Ivy ever gonna visit? I don’t think Mom told her much about me yet, and I still gotta give her the shovel talk!” the fierce look that overcame Marinette’s face made Selina laugh again. Oh yes, definitely her mother’s daughter.

“Pam has been trying to sneak over, but the laws regarding Metahumans in Paris suddenly got much stricter a few months back and have caused some problems. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Selina did not miss when her seemingly innocent question caused her niece to close off almost instantly. Bluebell eyes took on a familiar guardedness, and scanned her with the same soul-searching intensity that Harley had when she was channeling her Psychiatrist side. Selina found herself in a slightly concerning spot though—

Because she couldn’t predict Marinette at all. She was left to simply stand there as Marinette searched for some unidentifiable thing in her eyes, completely unable to read the younger girl’s face and with no idea of what to expect. The side effect of having chaos so thoroughly entwined in both of her biological parents, she supposed.

“Nope, no idea.”

Selina knew that was a lie, but knew equally as well that she would not be getting a better answer anytime soon. So, she let it go and the two of them once again dipped into innocent chatter.

Later that night, when Selina left and the sun threatened to rise at any minute, Tikki flew up from her hiding spot under Marinette’s pillow to land on her holder’s shoulder. Marinette giggled and looked over at her little friend.

“Tikki?”

“Yes, Mari?”

“Why was I chosen to be your holder?” She asked suddenly, flopping back into her bed and staring at her ceiling. The little goddess hummed, smiling knowingly before flying down to cuddle in the crook of Marinette’s neck.

“Because you are born from luck itself. Even when bad things happen, you have the luck and determination to get out just fine, and stronger than before. And despite the destruction and anarchy in your blood, you have the willpower to reign it in and keep control of yourself. That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good. And that’s a large part of who you are, I could feel it in your soul the moment we first met.”

Marinette closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. “What if I lose control?”

“... You’ll just have to get it back. It’ll be hard, but as long as you have people to support you, you will be able to do it. You aren’t evil, Marinette,” the small God seemed to sense the true question her holder was asking, and did her best to soothe the doubt the girl felt. “Just remember the reasons you fight against chaos. Remember everyone you love, and you’ll be okay. And you have me, I’ll always help you.”

“... thank you, Tikki.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was uncanny just how often Marinette’s hunches were right. Her intuition was something to behold, truly, because it only took three days in Gotham before Joker snatched her right out of her room at Harley and Ivy’s apartment. At least Marinette had sixteen by then, so she had had enough experience as a hero in Paris and with generally unpredictable situations and people who were absolutely nuts for her to not immediately panic. Too much, anyway.

Because there was definitely a little panic there.

See, Marinette knew herself inside out by then. After her own battle with her toxic feelings towards Adrien and doing her best to heal from those before she turned out like her mom, she knew she was by no means mentally indestructible. Mental illness ran the high risk of being inherited, and Marinette was well aware that her own personality was scarily similar to her mother’s at times. She got attached quickly, felt affection and love for others very strongly and, as she found with Adrien, could easily become obsessive if she didn’t watch herself. At least Harley was the perfect person to help with that, and Marinette was serious about helping herself too. She did everything she could to keep an eye on her mental health and keep her behavior in check so she didn’t do anything too unhealthy with her relationships again.

But she knew, she knew she had a soft spot for family. She got attached too easily. And being in the same room as her biological father, despite being tied up by her hands and feet and knowing just how many unforgivable things he had done in his life, Marinette felt vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him, despite everything. She still loved him, despite every reason not to, despite her first meeting with him being with him shoving chloroform over her face and hogtying her to a metal chain dangling over a vat of acid.

Geez, she’d need more than just her mom as a therapist after this for sure. Even if her mom had a PH.D, Marinette felt like she’d need several psychiatrists to sort through her emotional turmoil right then and make sense of any of it.

Marinette licked her lips, aware that the only kindness that Joker gave his daughter was sparing her from the discomfort of being gagged.

“Don’t,” Marinette said, surprising herself with the amount of steel she was able to put into her voice. Somehow, she managed to make the single word sound more like an order than a plead. “Joker, put me—“

“Ah-Ah-Ah!” The clown walked over, tutting and waving his finger in the air in almost playful admonishment. He gave her a dramatically fake pout. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to refer to your father by his first name?” Neither of them mentioned that Joker was definitely not his real name. They both knew the point was moot. “Say it with me now— ‘Daddy dearest, I am more than willing to be dunked in acid for you,’ go ahead, say it.”

Marinette’s jaw clenched. Familial love or not, she would not tolerate being ridiculed like that. She dealt with enough ridicule when she was fourteen and fifteen during school, before she put Liar Rossi in her place. She had spent the past three years as a hero in charge of the war against Hawkmoth, in charge of protecting all of Paris from an emotional terrorist.

And gee, wasn’t that what Joker was, too? Sure, he was a terrorist in the classic meaning of the word as well, but he was nothing if not a skilled manipulator. He knew the human mind just as well as Harley or any other psychiatrist did, he just used his knowledge for different means. He had emotionally abused Harley for years, he emotionally abused and manipulated people all across gotham on a daily basis. He was just another Hawkmoth, but with more physical violence in place of magic.

With these thoughts strengthening her resolve, Marinette narrowed her eyes at the man who donated half of her DNA. She let her anger boil into her irises, hitting him with one of the few traits she knew she inherited from him.

Her ability to intimidate others on the tip of a hat.

“No,” she growled back at him. She took a deep breath. It had taken her a while, but she refused to be ashamed of who she was regardless of her blood relation. She would have no problem using the very things she inherited from Joker against him. She might have gotten most of Harley’s personality, she might have inherited her mother’s habit of falling in love hard, fast, and obsessively, but she also had Joker’s defiance. His bone-deep inability to be stopped from doing exactly whatever the fuck he wanted.

And then, there were Marinette’s own traits. The ones that were completely her own, developed over her life organically. Like her refusal to bow down to bullies, her creativity, her ability to take even the most chaotic situation and see some sort of balance and sanity in it that she could use to her advantage.

That she WOULD use to her advantage. The shadows she saw move out of the corner of her eye gave her the chance to do exactly that, she just needed to buy a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds.

“Excuse me?” Joker growled right back, his own intimidation, honed over more years than Marinette had been alive and thus much more potent than her own, reading its ugly head as he stalked towards her. His face was pulled down into an ugly snarl, his shoulders tensed and back straight as he glared right at her. From his spot on the metal walkway, he was easily able to reach over the railing and grab her chin in one pale, viciously strong hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding something here, little Marionette. I’m your father. Half of your life came directly from ME. That makes you my puppet. You exist to follow my orders,” his right grip suddenly let go, leaving behind the beginnings of a bruise as his entire demeanor changed from angry to cheerful. He spread his arms as if gesturing to the whole chemical plant victoriously, and an unnaturally large smile curved over his lips and bared yellowing teeth at her. “But that’s okay. I’ll forgive you this time, you haven’t learned any better yet. That’s why we’re here. We need to cleanse you of all those icky bad habits you’ve learned up until now, all you need is a little,” he bounced in place with a wicked smirk to illustrate his next words— “jumpstart. A little acid goes a long way to enlightenment you know, you’ll see my side of things in no time. And with my blood in you, you’ll make a better sidekick than that idiot Harley ever did. I can sense it, you’ve got a real talent for Chaos in you, it’s exciting, Heheeeheheee! Now then, we should probably speed things along before our family reunion is cut short. Hang in there, my little Marionette,” the man actually had the gall to spin in place while humming a tune cheerfully before all but dancing over to the lever that held Marinette’s length of chain in the air over the vat of chemicals below her. “Everything will clear up in that little head of yours in just a second!”

There! Right as Joker pulled the switch to lower her into the bubbling vat underneath her, Marinette was able to finish untying her hands. She couldn’t contain a small yelp as gravity flung her body forward, leaving her upside down on the chain for a brief moment. That was when the chain started lowering rapidly, and Marinette was barely able to rip the rope off of her ankles in time to swing off of it and onto the metal walkway that came up right next to the giant metal container of liquid death and insanity. Joker had barely enough time to shout in rage before the windows near the ceiling shattered, admitting the city’s vigilantes themselves. Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, and evening Black Bat all landed on the same metal platform above Marinette’s head that Joker was still on, buying the teen time to start running. But she didn’t go towards the exit right away, instead heading right up the stairs into the thick of the fight. Robin briefly separated from where Joker was managing to hold his own, goons flooding from side doors to inhibit the heroes in their attempt to bring their boss down.

The katana-using vigilante kept one eye on Marinette the whole time, suspicious of why the girl would come back up if not to help her father. But that wasn’t what she did, instead she flipped and kicked and punched her way through the quickly growing sea of Joker thugs until she reached a small pink purse that had been abandoned near the lever that had nearly sent her into liquid insanity. Three thugs surrounded her right as she snatched the purse up and slung it over her shoulder, but Robin barely had the chance to head over before she was heaving the men, who were all easily three times her size, over her shoulder and was slamming elbows into soft spots and the side of her hand into pressure points. By the time Robin got to her side, all three men were unconscious and bound to wake up in utter agony.

Marinette glanced up, getting ready to haul Robin over her shoulder as well before she realized who he was. She let her shoulders relax just a tick, sighing in relief before returning her eyes to scanning their surroundings. She shot him a brief grin.

“Good thing my adoptive mother, Mom, Momma Ivy, and Auntie Selina all made sure I knew how to take down a small army on my own, huh?” She asked rhetorically before they were both unceremoniously dragged back into the giant brawl.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Nettie-pie!”

“Marigold!”

Harley and Pamela Quinzel-Isley shoved down anyone and everyone who dared block their direct path to their daughter. The girl of the hour stood next to the bat clan, a shock blanket held tightly around her shoulders as she did her best to finish her statement to both the vigilantes and Commissioner Gordon.

“You untied yourself… from a ship-grade knot in high quality rope… with a phone charm?” They heard Gordon ask incredulously, to which Marinette could only give a lopsided smile. That was when her mom and stepmom crashed into her, enveloping her in a nearly suffocating hug.

“Gah— mom— momma Ivy—“ Marinette flailed in their arms for a bit before finally getting her head free and continuing her statement as if she didn’t have two of the most dangerous women in the city still giving her a bone crushing hug. “That’s better. Yes, Commissioner. You see, I realized when I was in the car with Joker, while I was pretending to still be unconscious, that one of the charms on my phone had pretty sharp corners that I could use like a serrated edge if I had enough time. So I carefully detached it from my phone, and held it in my palm. It took almost an hour, but once Joker noticed I was awake I kept him talking so that he didn’t notice what I was doing even as he tied me up to that chain. Really, it’s just lucky that I was able to get it worn down in time,” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck with a nervous chuckle. “But regardless, I think Batman and his partners,” she nodded to the listening vigilantes just to the side of her. “Were close enough that I would have been caught anyway, I just wanted to make sure they had less work to do. The sooner I freed myself, the sooner ‘Daddy Dearest,’” she grimaced as she mockingly used the same term Joker had tried to get her to say earlier that night. “Could go back behind bars where he belongs.”

“Oh my little Nettie-cake,” Harley cried, finally pulling back from the hug long enough to wipe her cheeks. It was clear that she had been crying for a while, and her colorful pigtails were mussed and tangled from where she must have been tugging on them in worry. “You were right. I’m so sorry, I never should have let you come to Gotham when I knew he was out of Arkham.”

Marinette was quick to shake her head frantically, pulling her arms out of Ivy’s hold so she could grasp Harley’s shoulders firmly. “No. No, Mom, I’m fine! And besides, we knew I couldn’t stay secret forever. I really like staying with you and Momma Ivy! Everything turned out fine though, and he’s headed back to Arkham. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Nettle,” Pam argued, distracting herself by running her hands through Marinette’s bangs. She had only known the girl for two years, but that was more than long enough for her to consider the teenager as her own. “He took you right out from under our noses. You were supposed to be safe in our home, and he still got to you. That’s not okay. We weren’t able to protect you like we should have been. Maybe you should go back to Paris early.”

“What?! No way!” Marinette argued, eyes wide. “This is the first time I’ve been able to ever visit you guys in Gotham, I’m not letting some psycho sperm donor keep me from enjoying time with my family! I came here knowing full well that it was dangerous. I’m not gonna just run away after one bad experience.”

Harley snorted, and then devolved into uncontrollable giggles. “Heh— psycho sperm donor. Good one, sugar!”

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes good naturedly at her mom’s usual immature antics. Seeing as Gordon had walked away muttering to himself a short while ago, Marinette pulled herself the rest of the way away from her moms and turned to the vigilantes. Without a second’s pause, she bowed to them just like her Maman Sabine taught her.

“Thank you for helping save me. I know it’s probably a shock that I’ve been kept secret from you guys all this time, but I hope you don’t lump me in with the likes of the green-haired half of my DNA. I’m staying with my Moms in their apartment, if you guys decide to patrol by our place like I suspect, I’ll leave some baked goods and coffee out for you on our patio. It’s the least I can do for you all after tonight. And don’t be too hard on Auntie Selina. Me and Mom swore her to secrecy, even from you guys.”

Batman jerked a little at the mention of Catwoman’s real name, jaw twitching for a second. Behind his cowl, his eyes narrowed. Marinette laughed, easily reading his body language and expression.

“She never told me who you are, but she didn’t exactly hide it either. It was easy to put the last pieces together on my own. But don’t worry, SHE swore me to secrecy too. I won’t tell anyone.

“How the hell are you related to the Laughing Asswipe from Hell?” Red Hood blurted out, his confusion clear even from behind his hideous helmet. Marinette burst into giggles, and both Pamela and Harley smiled knowingly.

“Mom gave me up for adoption when I was born, so I spent my whole life in Paris up until now,” she admitted. “Mom didn’t visit me for the first time until I was eight, and she and my adoptive parents are so awesome that it must’ve suffocated the worst traits from his DNA before they had a chance to develop,” she guessed out loud with a good natured smile.

Batman grunted. Marinette knew that one run-in wasn’t enough for them to trust her. After all, she was still the biological daughter of their arch enemy. But she didn’t mind, she understood the caution even if she didn’t fully agree with it. They weren’t outright hostile, despite the fact that Robin had never stopped glaring at her since they fought back-to-back against the mob of thugs earlier. She could live with their suspicion, as long as they continued to not be outright rude or mean to her.

At least she could empathize with Adrien now, whenever she figured out how to break it to him that Hawkmoth was definitely Gabriel and couldn’t be anyone else. Hopefully she could help soften the blow for him a little.

Harley and Ivy were starting to herd Marinette towards their car and take her back home, where they could continue to smother her in care and make sure she didn’t have even a scratch on her, when Robin’s voice stopped them all in their tracks.

“You are a surprisingly capable combatant.”

Marinette froze, blinking in surprise for a second before turning to stare at Robin in shock. The rest of the Bat Clam was doing the same, nobody expecting Robin of all people to be the first to directly complement Marinette. He tutted, crossing his arms, but never moved his gaze away from Marinette’s eyes.

“But your form could use some work. Most of your style is incredibly improvised, which I can appreciate since you do it well, but you would benefit from more structure in your fighting. I will set up a time and place for us to spar. We start in two days, if you think you can handle it.”

It took a while for what Robin said to sink in, and another few seconds for Marinette to decipher what his semi-aggressive, order-phrased proposal really meant. And she smiled.

“It’s a date.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Woo! This started off a little rough, but I really like how it ended up! Thank you, Anon!

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Can I get a small one shot with Miya.

Like the reader and him hanging out like going to the arcade together. If you want or can.

Happy Pride Month🏳️‍🌈

Stay safe and healthy!

Have a good day or night!

miya chinen x gn!reader

a/n: sure thing!! Happy Pride Month to you as well!!! I hope you stay safe and healthy, and have a good day/night too!! <33 Thank you so much for requesting!! And I’m sorry for the time this took!!;; i’m also sorry that this is,,, hot garbage-

warnings: none <3

word count: 1,216

Arcade dates. Truly, the most romantic of dates… is not what you would have thought nor said- but still, they were always the most fun. Romance wasn’t the best part of dates in your humble opinion- it was about getting to spend time with the person you cared for. For you, that person was Miya Chinen.

“Spending time with the person I care for? Psh- lame. The only person I care for is right,” He pointed dramatically at himself, “here.”

“Ah, yes, that explains all the time you spend with me and the others.”

“That’s not care, it’s free food.”

You raised an eyebrow, before shrugging halfheartedly. “Whatever you say, ex-bo-”

“Shhhut up. You’re still my partner.”

At that, you laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair despite the fact that he seemed to get annoyed whenever you did it. Through all the fronts he put up, you knew in your heart that he didn’t mind it- nor did he mind you. You were positive he didn’t mind arcade dates either.

“Shut up, dummy- let’s just go,” He said, shoving your hand lightly, and looking away as to hide the growing smile and blush- you let it slide, patting his head once more, before tossing your skateboard down. “Hurry up then,” You told him, before starting down the sidewalk, making your way towards the arcade.

As you expected, Miya caught up quickly, sticking his tongue out at you as he sped ahead. Though you tried to subtly speed past him, he kept up a steady pace a good foot or two ahead of you- he did so until you arrived at the arcade, grinning proudly as he stopped first. “Hah. Looks like I win at both skating and games.”

“You don’t know that you’ll win. Here- how about we each get the same amount of coins, play the same games the same amounts of times, and see who ends up with the most tickets?”

“You’re setting yourself up for failure, but alright.”

Ignoring that last comment, you pushed open the door to the arcade, holding it just long enough for Miya to trail in behind you, before making your way to the coin machine. Miya offered you a bill, which you dispensed into the machine. After it finished emptying your coins below, you scooped them up and waited for Miya to do the same. Then, it began. A war- more or less. You and Miya walked over to the first game, giving each other a sort of competitive look, before placing the coins into the game. The beeping signaled you to start- and so you did, each giving it everything you had.

The energy of the first game didn’t end there- the two of you “fought” energetically, going through each game that the arcade had to offer. Skee-ball, basketball, knocking things down, shooting zombies- the list went on with each game you stopped at.

Finally, the last coins had been dispensed into the game. The slight buzzing sound made the two of you aware that your final tickets were being handed to you. In sync, you both ripped your own tickets from the game, sticking them in a bag, then turning to face the other.

You glanced at the bag Miya held, then back at your own, silently trying to evaluate who could be in the lead. Miya did the same, though more subtly than you. After a moment, he spoke.

“I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, same-”

The two of you headed towards the tables, placing your bags in seats, then agreeing to get your favorite kind of pizza. You left the table, ordering the pizza, then taking it back to where the two of you sat. Miya opened the box, grabbing a slice, then taking a bite from it.

“First slice of pizza for the winner,” He said proudly, holding his pizza slightly in your face. Rolling your eyes, you quickly leaned forward, taking a bite from his pizza, then sitting back as if nothing had happened.

“Hey-!” Miya exclaimed, holding his pizza back, a look of utter disturbance on his face despite the blush that was growing. “Gross,” He made sure to add, before taking a bite, going out of his way to make it clear he wasn’t biting from the part you had “contaminated.” You knew he was going to eat it eventually, but- you also knew he just had to keep that grumpy sort of facade up. Or maybe it was just his embarrassment- or maybe both. Either way, you smirked proudly, as you began to eat your own slice of pizza.

Minutes passed, turning into a half hour as you and Miya talked lightly, the slices of pizza in the box slowly reducing until few were left. Shutting the box, you agreed to split the pieces evenly later- the winner getting to take one extra piece.

Miya was the first to stand, taking his bag proudly, and placing a hand on his hip. “Ready to eat your words?”

You stood up after him, copying his pose, and raising your eyebrows. “Ready to eat your words?” You mocked, sticking out your tongue, then rushing towards the counter. Reaching the counter before Miya, you emptied your tickets onto the tray. The worker let the machine count them up, before declaring your number.

“203.”

Miya then poured his tickets into the tray, glancing up at the worker expectantly as the machine counted them. Almost dramatically, the worker paused a longer moment to read the final amount.

“209.”

“YES!” Miya shouted, tossing his arms up proudly, as you crossed your arms.

“Well, you come here more often than I do anyway,” You argued, sticking your tongue out slightly. Miya grinned, sticking his tongue out back. “All is fair in love and war,” He countered, before placing his hands on his hips. “Alright, (Y/N), you pick your things first. Y’know, since I’m nice.”

You flicked his shoulder lightly, earning a small “ouch-” from him, before looking across the options. You chose a few things, varying in size, and placing each item in your bag. After you had picked your things out, Miya immediately stated what he wanted. A fairly-sized stuffed bear sitting on the back shelf.

“Oh, but-” Miya paused, reaching for his hoodie pocket, then pulling out more tickets. “These are from previous times. I think this’ll be enough for the bear.”

Sure enough, the tickets added up, earning Miya said bear and a tiny plastic dinosaur. True treasures, really.

The two of you stepped outside of the arcade, bantering lightly over whether or not Miya had been playing fair. The bantering stopped for a moment, when you felt something soft be shoved against your shoulder.

You glanced over, noting the bear that Miya had pressed against you. “Huh?”

“...since- since you lost and all. I’m nice, like I told you.”

Hesitantly, you took the bear, before giving Miya an unsure look. He avoided eye contact, instead hopping on his skateboard. As he began to skate ahead, it clicked-

“Awwh!! Did you save up to get me this?”

“Can’t hear you, slime! You’re too far behind me!!”

Almost too excitedly, you copied Miya, tossing down your board to chase after him. Maybe you had lost, but he was going to be the one not living that day down.

[jungshookz]

cee!!!! please please give us advice on studying/techniques u use when u study for ur finals and stuff!! here’s a kiss while i’m here :*

as a matter of fact i just finished one of my finals a while ago and i have another one later but i’m taking a break from studying because i simply: cannot 

to be HONEST i am a big dummy so i don’t want to pretend i know what i’m doing when in reality i don’t :’)) and also since i’m a literature major it’s less about memorizing and more about being able to form a proper argument and analyze and write three full essays in two hours so i’m not even sure if my tips would be helpful but here are some that usually work for me!!!! 

highlighting!!! this seems like a pretty obvious tip but i’m telling you about it because it works for me :D when i’m reading through my textbook i use different colours for different things - yellow is for things that sound pretty dang important and could be useful for the exam, blue is for terms and definitions, and pink kind of goes with yellow because i use it to highlight follow-up information if that makes any sense?? also sometimes i like to scribble symbols and arrows and little notes next to certain lines so that when i go back to review i’m not just looking at a page with like fifteen highlighted lines with nothing next to them :’)) 

write write write!!! i know that typing out your notes on your laptop is sO much easier and more convenient and faster than handwriting them on a notebook but i personally find that i’m able to absorb the information more when i’m writing because i’m actually taking the time to write out and read each word compared to when my fingers are flying across the keyboard!!! also when ur copying notes from your textbook to your notebook don’t just directly copy and paste whole sentences because.,., why would u do that.,,. ur basically just regurgitating the same thing and what’s the point if u have the textbook right there.,., so i like to break the sentence down into an easier to understand bullet-point and then i’ll do additional bullet-points underneatH the first point for extra info i need to know! also you get to practice your handwriting which is always nice :’) no chicken scratches here!!!!! 

word pairing game!!! this one takes a little more time to prep because it’s a study game but basically i’ll write one word/concept on a card and then on a separate card i’ll write the bullet-points that are associated with that word/concept and u do that for as many topics you have to memorize and then you shuffle them up and spread them out neatly on the table and then you have to pair the right word to the right bullet-points!!! it’s nice because it doesn’t force you to memorize a huge chunk of info word for word!!! as long as you have a good grasp on the basic concepts relating to the topic you’ll be able to soRT of know what you’re talking about when it comes to the exam >:-)) AND you can reward yourself at the end if you get all the pairings right :D this is actually very fun and u can play with your friends to find out who’s paying the most attention in class B-) 

put your dang phone away!!! i used to think this was silly and didn’t matter but i’ve noticed that if i have my phone sitting next to me (even when it’s on silent) i always pick it up and i end up scrolling for two hours straight SO when i go into study mode i usually leave my phone in my room and go to the living room to study there instead!!! you will be mucH more productive this way because when u want to grab your phone you’ll realize that you have to trek all the way back to your bedroom and.,.,., eventually you’ll be like ah forget it because ur too lazy to go :D also remember to turn off ur notifications on your laptop so you don’t get distracted >:-(( 

good luck with finals!!!!!! woohOo you can do it :D 

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How do the BL students cope with missing their s/o? (like they're on a mission or something and won't be back for a long time) Bonus points for including how they react to seeing them again lol. Congrats on the big 100 btw

[Thank you! This is a little late but I was amazed to see so many people reading these posts.I’m pretty proud of this one.I wrote this as a ‘first time they’re apart’ kind of scenario. Hope it is to your liking! :3]

Dimitri: 

Karma really does bite, and boy does it do so hard

More often than not it is Dimitri leaving you behind for missions. Being the leader of the Lions meant that he was stationed at almost every important battle. Sometimes you’d join, and others the professor would decide to have someone else take up arms. No biggie, you know? He never complained since it guaranteed your safety.  

He didn’t even think of the possibility of a role reversal. One where you’d be sent out while he’s left behind. Up until now he was always by your side, but Manuela knew his limits better than anyone. She insisted he take the month off to rest. 

Once again, no biggie. He’d much rather be productive but with some convincing he easily gave in. Everyone departed for the monthly mission and he decided to invest some of the extra time on his hands into an evening with you 

He was about to search for you, but then memory did it’s job.

“Ah, that’s right. They departed with their battalion this morning...”

Dimitri wasn’t used to the silence of an empty Monestary. Was it always this hollow when the army was deployed? There were some people, yes. However most areas appeared almost lifeless. 

It brought up some unpleasant memories to say the least. Ones of a dusk castle, strangers on every corner, empty dinner tables, and cold nights spent staring up from his balcony. 

The time he spends without Dedue glued to his side is full of reflection. Once he’s trained, eaten, studied up, etc. He’ll stroll around the monastery and think of what his life has become 

How fragile the peace is. How much longer will it last?  

He wanted to talk with someone. The silence was deafening and he wished for a distraction before the voices made their appearance. 

They did.

He wished for you to come home. Despite the voices screaming that he had no right to long for your comfort, the desire still remained.  

 Was it the same for you when he’d depart? This...lonely? 

He hoped not. 

Since when had Dimitri become assimilated to the daily nonsense that was his life? 

Dedue had caught on to his highness’ feelings instantly. Dimitri was more reminiscent than usual, and often his walks would take him to your room. He wouldn’t enter, just look at the door as if expecting it to open. He wasn’t one to talk of the past as it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes Dedue would catch him smiling at nothing. It was a welcome change to have happy memories. 

When you come home it’s as if Dimitri has a new aura. Well, maybe not entirely but he has a more solemn look in his eyes when they meet yours. He spends the first day being caught up on politics with the Professor and Seteth, but for many nights beyond the return he seeks your company 

He wants to hear your voice. The one he craved for when the silence became intolerable 

“I’ve returned my beloved, would you care to tell that story from the other night again? I know it has only been one day but I would love to hear it.” 

Dedue: 

Time alone with you was already a rarity, so your complete absence didn’t dieter him as much as one would think. Dedue’s schedule rarely has a slot for free-time, and so the days pass on like seconds 

As long as there is no specific reason to worry then he refrains from doing so. Dedue genuinely believes in your strength and capabilities so he won’t needlessly fret over nothing. He has his own duties to attend to just as you do. 

However, this doesn’t mean he feels nothing on the matter. Others can gossip about him all they want but his nationality doesn’t define his personality. Not that he cares, since his stone exterior hides signs of weakness 

Let’s get this straight: he does miss you. While not in surplus, your time together is precious to him. He notices how your seat is empty during lessons and meetings. He unconsciously checks the training hall’s door during his regime, impatiently waiting for you to pop in and say your daily ‘hello’. He’s painfully aware of the extra pair of gardening gloves in his tool pail. Dedue knows that you are gone and it has an impact. 

He just ignores it. Dedue knows that when duty calls it must come before personal issues. Even if there is no contact between you two, he would rather no letters than one relaying distress 

If his highness asks about his feelings Dedue’s replies are short and curt. He does not wish for any worry or pity. 

One small sign that Dedue is off-put is that he becomes forgetful. It’s something only those who know him well can pick up on. For example: he won’t bring any writing utensils to a meeting. To a stranger this is a common mishap that happens to everyone. Only people who know Dedue well will see that someone as responsible as him wouldn’t forget something so minute 

Another is the short sighs he lets out. Nothing drawn out or dramatic, just quick puffs of air through the nose- kind of like a huff. They’re very difficult to catch and are a habit when he feels impatient or restless 

The day you come home isn’t a large extravaganza. Prince Dimitri accompanies him to greet the returning troops, but it doesn’t take a wise man to see that he mainly came for moral support. You were his friend as well, and he also wanted to see Dedue happy. 

When you come into sight Dedue approaches as if it’s a normal day. Your appearance is a bit too worn-down for his liking, and he says so. He asks if the journey went well, and whether it did or not he gives a minuscule smile 

If you return it he’ll pat your head. A welcome home, if you will 

“Come. Let us speak of the time we were apart. I would like to hear of your travels” 

Felix:

Simple solution. Whenever Felix feels as if he’s missing your presence he’ll go find you. 

Oh wait 

He can’t lmao 

It doesn’t hit him how big your role is in his life until you’re forced to be apart. All it took was a few days for Felix to feel like something was missing

At first he’s in denial. What is he, a child? A grown man doesn’t need someone to lean on, or keep him company, or check on him...or to give him encouragement......make him laugh....listen to his problems............okay. Maybe he does. 

At the beginning he seems put together but gradually as the days go on Felix becomes socially intolerant. The only person he wants to talk with is you, and you’re not there. Anyone else can buzz off or they’re getting snapped at

No one says anything either. Sometimes you can’t when the only solution is so far away 

Felix works extra hard when you’re gone. No one’s there to force much needed breaks onto him. From morning till dusk he’ll train and only stop for meals.

It’s his distraction. Every time that familiar pang shows up the training dummy gets another slice 

What’s happened to him? He was never so dependent on another person. Yeah, he has people that he cares about but their presence was never a necessity in his life 

The pain only intensifies as he thinks of what you’re doing, the dangers you’re facing, other (men/women) making you smile-

Oh....Oh no. Dear god he’s in love que the dummy’s head being sliced off

He’s waiting in your room on the day you get back. You’ll walk in to see him reading at your desk, only for the book to snap shut when you open the door 

A bit roughly he’ll pull you in for a hug. Not too tight, if you wanted to escape it you could

“Look. I’ll only say this once so you better listen...don’t leave for that long ever again. If you have to then I’m going with. No arguments”        

Ashe:

He’s fine. It’s okay. Ten days in and life goes on, you know? Today he played with some of the stray cats in the monastery like he normally would. The only off part was that he forgot to bring fish treats, normally you’d do that. 

Then he ordered some sweet buns for dessert after dinner; it was his usual order on your rare dates. Those days you’d snatch one but this time they were all his

He had them in the garden with some mint tea and watched the sun set. The last time he did that you decided to braid his hair while he told bad puns about his patchy facial hair fiasco. This time he viewed in tranquil silence 

Later in the evening he practiced archery to unwind. Lately Caspar agreed to be his training partner with you gone. He’d collect the arrows shot and help reposition the targets. You would normally do the same and in turn Ashe would wake up extra early to help you in the morning. 

At night he curled up in bed with “Loog and the Maiden of Wind,” picking up from where he left off. It was easy since you had given him a copy with a built-in cloth bookmark for his birthday. He loves it to pieces. 

Please come home When his eyes began to feel heavy he tucked it under his pillow for the day. 

Under the covers he shifted to get comfortable, and just like every night he ended up cuddling one of his pillows 

How much longer 

He closed his eyes 

....

..........

What was taking so long? The professor never mentioned that the journey would take weeks? There haven’t been letters either...

Where are you? What are you doing? Do you miss him? Are you eating properly? Are you sleeping right? He should have asked Seteth to let him accompany you. Are you on your way home? Should he go ask? No, it’s late. Asking now would be a bother-

 He misses you so much. No amount of time spent absorbing himself in different hobbies makes the discomfort in his chest go away. Everything reminds him of you. 

When you come home he’s front and center at the gate. The professor had taken pity on the boy (courtesy of Flayn’s plea) and arranged his schedule to be free all day. He spent it chatting with gatekeeper until troops appeared in the distance 

The moment you’re in sight he’s skipping down the stairs and greets you with the warmest embrace. The second you pull back he’s peppering kisses on your cheeks. 

“You’re back! I’ve missed you so much I can’t even begin to explain. Let’s go eat dinner and you can tell me all about the trip” 

Sylvain:

Is it weird that with you gone Sylvain actually begins to be a productive human being?

He spends the newfound spare time at the stables with the horses, or helping with chores around the monastery. Very rarely is he found goofing off 

Weird. Most would expect him to let loose considering how you have him on a ‘ball and chain,’ as he puts it 

So???? How come he chooses now to be responsible. 

Simple. He only acts rebellious to get a rise out of you

Just kidding lol. Only partially

While he does get a free show out of your nagging, it isn’t the reason he behaves like that. Neither why he’s suddenly ‘turned over a new leaf’

Sylvain highly respects you. Not only do you work hard but you’re also one of the most genuine people he knows. He’ll never say it to your face but before he loved you Sylvain looked to you as a role model. He never could have imagined that someone with such an authentic set of emotions would become his partner 

He also puts you through hell with all the trouble he gets in. Anyone else would have ended the relationship by now with so many FALSE rumors of adultery on his end. Yet you never gave up on him.  

In short, you’ve stood by him through thick and thin. From daily mess ups to the more deeper problems. You’ve been a major pillar that he leans on.

So that’s what he’s going to be for you. While you’re away he’s going to pick up the slack and make sure there’re no messes waiting for you to come home to 

Just him and maybe a few snide jokes. You know, a couple of dramatic whines about all the trouble he went to in making sure your room stayed clean 

Sometimes it gets difficult to turn down the invites from his peers, but he holds strong. The change is so drastic that Byleth even jokes about sending you away more often. 

He takes it with a grain of salt. They’d never exploit their students like that and he knows it 

When you arrive home he’s waiting patiently in your room. In one arm there’s a blanket and in the other a feather duster c’mon he has to make this believable

“Well there’s the (man/woman) of the hour. Do you realize the horrors that I’ve endured these past weeks? I cleaned this room EVERY DAY. You owe me big time!”  

Sylvain demands that for all the worry, strife, and hard labor you put him through; he deserves an afternoon nap with his partner. Will you let him slack off?

Annette: 

Busy, busy, busy!!!

She has so many chores to get done, books to read, people to talk to, and songs to sing 

She hated to say goodbye, but eventually you’ll come home. This isn’t like before. You’re not like him. 

Annette trusts you

She loves you 

While you’re gone she’ll think of all the things you can do together when you get back. What’s a better way to use the time, right? 

She 100% plans to blackmail you into treating her for lunch. How could you leave her behind to watch over everyone by herself? So cruel...

There are mild worries that fill her heart. Thoughts on your health for one. Whether you’re skilled in faith or not it doesn’t matter to her. 

She kind of wishes that the professor scheduled her to fight as well. However, things were better this way.

Annette will make sure you have somewhere wonderful to return to 

She even writes a small ‘welcome home’ jingle! Anything to bring out your smile 

People will occasionally ask how she’s holding up. After all, if Annette doesn’t worry about herself then of course others will do it for her. 

And yeah. Sometimes it does get rough. She’s human and naturally her partner means the world to her. Who the hell would be okay with sending their loved one away? 

It’s just that if she isn’t optimistic than who will be. Who’s going to give you encouragement when you need it most? Isn’t that what being a couple is about? To have faith and believe in each other? 

That’s why she’s okay. She’ll sing those fear demons away and take comfort in knowing you’ll come home with everyone else

And when you do she’s there with a few of your favorite flowers. She’ll congratulate you on a job well done whether the battle was a win or lose, and literally force you into her dorm to talk the hours away.

“Welcome home! I had plenty of time on my hands while you were away so I wrote a small song...i-if it’s okay then can I sing it for you? I promise it’s not about tasty cakes this time haha!” 

Mercedes:

The daily church hymn lifts her spirits. Mercedes’ devout faith is what supports her during moments of weakness 

You’ve probably guessed this, but every day you’re in her prayers. 

Not that you weren’t before, but now she spends a little more time mulling over possibilities of danger. Some extra blessings couldn’t hurt either 

She does find her thoughts trailing over to you often as well. Not anything negative but instead the happier memories. Saying goodbye was a rough blow when realization hit that your return date wasn’t definite 

Alas, the goddess will protect you. Mercedes steels herself to be patient and invest her energy into more productive things 

Mercedes is sort of like the big sister of all her friends. The doting type. Without you around she has all this pent up affection, and the lions get the blunt end of it

They’re an outlet that she uses to distract herself from not having you around. Not that they necessarily mind it (maybe Felix but he’ll get over it)

The time she’d spend with you is used to bake for the monastery children, or help with chores. She uses it wisely and also works on some of her own hobbies. 

You may or may not find some well-stitched embroidery on your socks. She goes all out and even offers to help mend Dimitri’s battle-worn cape. That thing needed a literal miracle to return to it’s former glory 

Life isn’t much different aside from your lack of presence. With each day she finds herself looking forward to your return, and occasionally she’ll inquire with the professor about it. Mercedes is known for her patience, and it truly is a virtue in many cases. Definitely in this one. 

When note of your future return arrives she can’t help but smile. If allowed she’ll ask to read the letter of notification herself and will do so with incredible focus. She’ll clutch one hand to her chest in relief before giving it back and leaving to return to her duties 

and so it goes until your return. She might not be able to come meet you at the gate, but at first sighting she’ll engulf you in an embrace. 

After a once-over for any injuries, she’ll insist that you have tea together. Hell, Mercedes would be happy if you two could just chat together on the nearest bench. There’s so much to talk of and now you two have all the time in the world 

“It’s so nice to see you again! Oh my...it feels like forever since I have seen you smile. I almost forgot how contagious is is haha” 

Ingrid: 

If it was up to Ingrid than she would be positioned right at your side. You two work well as a duo both on and off of the field. The army would benefit from your skills being magnified as a team 

She also wouldn’t have to deal with this ungodly sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Don’t misunderstand- Ingrid isn’t the protective type. She trusts in your capabilities both as a fighter and person. It’s only that being away for so long is a rarity, and she needs time to adjust. 

She’d just have to trust in the other people stationed at your side to do what she can’t  

If she knows any of them personally then Ingrid 100% approaches to ask that they watch your back 

That takes care of any worry, but not of the crack in her daily life 

Ingrid has much on her shoulders. Her family, Fargeus’ future, her friends, what food’s being served in the dining hall, if it tastes good or not, the church, the ‘flame emperor’, and you of course.

She’s also the type of person who likes uniformity: a schedule. You’re a part of that and being so far disrupts it. She’s afraid that her personal emotions will tap into her ability to fulfill her duties  

Everyone else assures her otherwise. Ingrid is known for always giving 110% so a while of just 100% is no big deal. She is allowed to be human 

She’s allowed to miss you. Her friends assure her of it 

She’s allowed to worry. There’s no need to sear shut her fears. After losing Glenn...well, it’s understandable. 

She’s allowed to ask for news updates. The professor has encouraged this. 

She’s allowed to go in your room if she needs alone time. You said so before leaving. 

However, Ingrid doesn’t allow herself those comforts until days after your departure. When you said goodbye it unsettled her stomach in more ways than one. It took some time to sort through her emotions while still maintaining her responsibilities

It took everything for Ingrid to move on from the past, and this experience set in a sense of gratitude for all that she’s been given. It also was an opportunity for her to reminisce over what she has lost, and still has to do. 

Needless to say, when you return Ingrid has gained a newfound confidence and comfort in not having a set schedule for life. Everything has always felt as if it needed to be rushed, but meeting you wasn’t something she had planned nor sped into. Spending some time to focus on her own personal goals aside from the ones preset for her before birth aided in Ingrid coming to terms with that. 

“Hello. It’s been so long that I hardly recognize you! What? It’s a joke!...Yes, I know how to tell jokes- hold on this is supposed to be a heartfelt reunion so don’t ruin it!” 

[sweetescapeartist]

MY DBS MANGA CHAPTER 72 REVIEW... 😒

Hey there... Here comes the review.

Imma start like this and use language some ppl may find offensive. Goku, Vegeta, & Granolah are retarded. Now that that's out of the way, time to dissect this "Dragon Ball Super coloring book."

Goku & Vegeta land on the planet & its peaceful. How are they not immediately suspicious? They see that the planet isn't in danger & no death. Its obvious they need to ask a question to figure out what lies they've been told.

I was gonna say its dumb for Granolah to be able to supress his ki because it seems only Earthling have that kind of spiritual understanding. But Namekians have that spiritual understanding too so maybe Monaito taught Granolah how to suppress his ki.

I lost interest in the Heeters' past. You can only tease me so long until I stop caring. At least mention something like Freeza almost killed Gas on planet Cereal so now that's why Gas keeps trying to get stronger. There's so little info about "important" stuff that's supposed to be important. Give readers a tease, hint, a different hint, some valuable info, then another hint, then a reaveal (or something similar!) Instead its tease, hint, tease, tease, hint, tease...

In all honesty, the chapter didn't even need that page with Gas & Elec. When Maki said Gas & Elec are coming, that was all we needed to know. Then we anticipate their arrival in the next chapter. Showing them is a waste of time & they add no real purpose to the chapter. That was just a waste of ink.

Also I'm bored of Gas now. He only looks interesting but does nothing. 👎

Granolah shoots at Goku & Vegeta. Base Goku closes his eyes to use UI (UI Omen?) while Vegeta goes SS. Base Goku dodges easier than Vegeta. Goku is leagues beyond Vegeta.

A better way to have Goku & Vegeta encounter Granolah would be for him to snipe at them right when they get off the ship. Granolah wanted to kill them so bad so why wait for them?

Somehow they go towards Granolah but he's too fast for them & they lose him. They can't sense him firing ki for some reason. Idk why Goku didn't use Instant Transmission when Granolah shot ki at them?

I don't get why Goku closes his eyes either. Its as if Goku can't use UI now unless his eyes are closed but that wasn't the case before. Eyes were opend when using UI Omen & Mastered UI. Toyo could have conveyed that better but instead he's making Goku close his eyes like how Roshi covered his eyes when fighting those prisoner women because their beauty distracted him. Is Goku distracted by Granolah's beauty or something?

Wait a sec... I gotta backtrack real quick. Goku used the Ultra Instinct technique in his base & didn't go into Ultra Instinct Omen? But thats him using it in base right? Oh boy... This is about to get dumb...

Ultra Idiot Goku & Super Stupid Vegeta are surprised that the guy having the title of "strongest in the universe" is capable of moving faster than them when they aren't at full power. Such genius writing.

Goku gets shot in the neck... & it knocks him out... Ok. But later Granolah comments on how Goku's body moves on it's own before Goku can even process an attacks. Not to mention Goku & Whis have said the same thing. Goku should be untouchable at this point, but for some reason he is not.

So, Vegeta takes a senzu bean from his "training bra" and gives it to Goku. For some reason they decided to only take 2 senzu when knowing they would fight a guy possibly stronger than them. Stupid monkeys.🐒 (I'm starting to sound like Freeza now)

How did unconscious Goku eat a senzu? Yaoi fans would had loved it if Vegeta chewed the senzu up for Goku and fed it to him. Sorry, it just reminded me of Trunks spitting senzu mush into Mai's mouth since she was unconscious.

Then we have this dialogue from "sensei" Vegeta, The Ultra Instinct Expert...

"You rely on Ultra Instinct too much! If you haven't perfected it yet, then dodge using your mind!" - Vegeta

"Yeah, you're right..." - Goku

"WTF Toyotaro!" - DB Meta

... I'm unsure who is the stupid one in this situation. Is it Goku or Vegeta? It could be Vegeta because UI is the ultimate technique that allows you to move without thinking. But Vegeta says that because Goku hasn't perfected Ultra Inst-...

...

...

Sorry, I had to restart my brain...

Didn't... didn't Goku master Ultra Instinct? Silver hair? Silver eyes? MASTERED/PERFECTED ULTRA INSTINCT? Before that, Goku perfected Ultra Instinct Omen & could go in it at will... So, Goku is listening to Vegeta tell him he hasn't mastered UI? But both know that Goku did master UI? What does Vegeta know? Vegeta can't even use UI.

I almost stopped reading the rest of the colouring book when I got to that dialogue.

Also, Granolah wants to kill Saiyans, so why is he holding back and not hitting them with deadly attacks. He only needs one alive anyways. He said so himself.

At least there was a good pose Goku was in. The art looked nice there.

Now here's another place I almost quit reading. Granolah apparently has all the abilities of Goku & Vegeta. Hack writing. Sounds like a Moro, 7-3, & Cell copy cat. Toyo just cant leave the Cell saga alone.

Granolah is bumping his gums & rattling his tongue (old slang for "talking a lot") but when Vegeta asks if Granolah holds a grudge against Saiyans, Granolah suddenly says that's enough talking. He responded to them 3 times & spoke like 5 sentences to them. If you're gonna chat then chat. If you hate Saiyans then don't say anything to them & try to kill them. Dummy.

Granolah uses Hakai. But aparently he's not using Hakai or Instant Transmission. Its just "similar." Sure. Confirms that he has been using something similar to UI in previous chapters too.

Granolah says they're stronger than expected because they escaped into the air. Escape doesn't equal strenght. Mai escaped Goku Black, doesn't mean she's extremely strong.

But seriously, Vegeta saying he's gonna prove his training is better than Goku is stupid. He wants to prove he is better than Goku yet he tells Goku to fight first (that's beta). It's as if he isn't confident & wants Goku to wear Granolah out first, so he can come in and look impressive. Kinda like in RoF after Freeza was tired from fighting Goku & Vegeta wasn't tired at all & he easily beat Freeza up. Looked cool, but actually wasn't too impressive.

Granolah saying that he's gonna shoot them if they don't fight him is ridiculous. Why is he showing mercy to the tribe that didn't show his ppl mercy? Why give chances to the ppl you wanted revenge on for years? Realistically he would just start blasting at them.

Unecessary dialogue from Vegeta talking to himself about how he needs to learn who Granolah is. Show don't tell Toyo.

Why is Granolah waiting for the Oozaru form? Maybe he wants to kill them in that form? What about revenge? Just kill them.

Goku screamed to power up from SS to SSG. That's possibly dumb, but I gotta let at least 1 thing slide this chapter.

Why did Granolah let them power up? So unlike what we've been shown what Granolah is like. Why would he want to give "murderers" of his entire race a fair chance to fight him?

Next, Goku doesn't try to explain he isn't savage like other Saiyans when Granolah accuses his kind of being so. Instead Goku just agrees & says "Oh... Yeah." I guess he really just wants to fight. I can't tell if this is OOC or just magnifying a Saiyan flaw of Goku just to push the story along. Idk. I'm losing brain cells reading this chapter.

Granolah's fighting stance is cool. Hey, look. I said a nice thing. (But why is he doing close combat when being a sniper us his specialty?)

So, Goku uses UI in SSG form... Bruh, is Ultra Instinct a technique, a state of mind, or a transformation? I'll tell you what it is. ULTRA INSTINCT IS A PLOT DEVICE! It does whatever Toyotaro decides at the moment. So freaking inconsistent... 😓😒

Ultra Instinct becomes more accurate when in conjunction with a SS form?! How tho? I thought it was just a goldy technique that needed a clear mind and control or whatever. Or is UI a transformation like Toyo stated many times in previous chapters, while also calling UI a technique? How can mixing a godly "technique" with a SS form enhance it better than Goku simply using UI Omen? It doesnt! Vegeta, you can just shut up! Every time you talk about UI, you've been wrong! It should be illegal impersonating an UI Expert.

Goku is using the Ultra Instinct technique in base form against Granolah.

UI Omen is Goku using the Ultra Instinct technique in base form.

Goku uses Ultra Instinct technique in the Super Saiyan God transformation.

Mastered UI is Goku mastering the technique or maybe using the technique as a transformation? (Toyo is confusing.)

So why isn't Goku going into UI Omen when using UI in base? Why does Vegeta say "Ultra Instinct... becomes more accurate when used in conjunction with a Super Saiyan form"? Does that mean Mastered UI is a Saiyan form in conjunction with the Ultra Instinct technique? So, there's an unknown silver haired Saiyan transformation that Goku was utilizing in conjunction with Ultra Instinct? I guess this confirms that "Super Saiyan Blanco" is real y'all.

I suppose that if UI in base isn't the same as UI Omen, then by that logic, there is also an unknown "Super Saiyan Noir" form we haven't seen yet.

I'm done with Ultra Instinct in the manga. Toytaro doesn't know if UI is a technique or a transformation. I could explain it better than him, but I'm not tye one writing official material. Why should I make sense of his bad writing when he will change things later? HE should explain it clearly to US. He is extremely inconsistent with his explanations and will change them when he feels like it.

I dont care what Geekdom101 says about UI being both technique & transformation, because Ultra Instinct IS NOT a transformation nor a technique anymore. ULTRA INSTINCT IS JUST A PLOT DEVICE. 😑

[You can skip this little section. I'm talking about inconsistencies from the Moro arc]

I remember when I talked about how Moro's life draining powers were retconned multiple times.

Moro can absorb life energy from a planet while he is in outer space, then he is nerfed to only being able to take life energy by directly touching you, later Vegeta says they need to get off the ground because now Moro (who is stronger and fused with the planet) can only steal your life enrgy while making contact with you. He could absorb life energy from entire planets from space, but has to make contact with somebody once he got stronger?

Let's not forget it's said Moro drains life energy, but can't drain 17 & 18 because they say they don't have life energy. I guess that means Krillin had a daughter with a dead woman? No. Multiple times, 17 & 18 contributed to the Genki Dama (a collection of life energy). Goku gathers energy from trees, animals, ppl, everything living. This means 17 & 18 do have life energy because they are living beings. But the energy they fight with is unlimited artificial energy.

So if 17 & 18 can give life energy to Goku for a Genki Dama, then Moro should be able to take their life energy just like anyone else. What he can't take is their energy they use for battle because itsunlimited & artificial. Toyotaro does not understand this important detail nor does he understand many other details about these iconic character. So why is the the writer if he is getting so much wrong? Why is he not soley the artist?

Goku uses UI in SSG form to dodge a barrage of attacks from Granolah that are aimed at the planet. They must be weak attacks because the explosions are tiny. Is Granolah really trying to kill them?

Goku using UI in SSG but somehow gets caught off gaurd. Did UI just get nerfed so that Vegeta can look like he is on the same level as Goku in a later chapter? I think it did...

Granolah took Goku down a second time... Wow Goku, you kinda suck. In DBS CH 65 on page 11, after Moro broke his arm on UI Goku's chest, Whis said "When Ultra Instinct is honed to this extent, the body will automatically grow sturdier as necessary." Why is Goku holding back against the strongest in the universe? Oh yeah, that's right... UI is getting nerfed.

Vegeta, what do you mean "How is he learning Kakarot's weaknesses so quickly?" Everybody has similar vital spots in DB. Thats not learning, thats just knowing. Are you just a dummy, Vegeta? Do you not know where vital spots are?

Granolah can tell Goku's body is moving before his brain tells him to react. Granolah the UI "expert" can see all with his eye. You know who else can see with their eye? Tien. Speaking of Tien, I wanna go back to Earth now. What's Piccolo doing? I bet everyone on Earth is chilling or at work. Is it bad I'd rather watch Gohan at a conference than watch Goku, Vegeta, & Granolah be dummies? I'd rather watch Chi-Chi cooking with vegetables instead of watching vegetable puns fight a cereal pun. I'm sorry, the dialogue is just so bad...

How does Granolah's right eye being able to observe blood flow & muscle movements let you know where to strike? Dude, vital spots are where your organs are, & pressure points, & your head area, & you arteries, & so on. Ya ain't gotta observe blood flow to know that. Granolah just making stuff up now to sound cool. News flash, you failed. If he was sniping and able to track them based on blood flow and muscle movement, then that would had been smarter writing.

Granolah: "This right eye of mine is the sharpest in all the universe. It sees all."

Your eye sees all Granolah? Can you see past the Heeters feeding you bullcrap too?

Yo, where did Granolah's barely existing personality go? He wss once driven by revenge, and now the opportunity for revenge is right here in front of him & he's acting like he doesn't want it. If revenge is his only noticeable personality trait, what happens when you take it away? You get bland and dry Granolah.

So then Veget- hold on! Thats it! Granolah's name pun is granola because he is meant to be a bland character! I get it now! So all his moves must be cereal puns!

I never realized how genius this character is!

Detective Vegeta: "A tribe driven to extinction, known for their evolved right eyes... This is starting to sound familiar..." 🕵

Tien?! Oh wait... he said right, not 3rd eye. Jiren?! Oh wait, that's both his eyes... Jaco!? That's both eyes too... I give up.

Granolah's eye can tell that Goku is not using his full power, yet he can't tell he is being fooled by the Heeters. I think he needs new glasses or at least clean the revenge smear off of his monocle.

Granolah casually chats with a Saiyan who is one of the ppl he wants to kill. He would be better if he barely talked and just acted. Granolah should be like Iron Man in "Captain America: Civil War." Not trying to talk, just trying to kill because he is angry and wants revenge.

Goku: "Granolah, we don't work for Freeza & the two of us didn't attack your planet."

Granolah: "I dont care... Your people killed my family."

Boom! Gimme an award!

Back to the chapter 72 colouring book...

Granolah: "Hurry and get on with it. I have no duty to wait for your sake."

Yet you've been waiting all this time for them to arrive, fight them, chat with them, & even waiting for him to transform right now. You got time. You got 3 yrs to waste. You can chat for 10 minutes or so.

Granolah tells Goku that he doesn't have time to wait, then says "It's no skin off my nose to kill you where you stand." Then he waits for Goku to transform... Just kill Goku and be done with it already. Its not like Vegeta can win if Goku can't.

Granolah: "I dont have time for talk."

Goku: "Ok lets fight!"

Granolah: "Ok but, let me tell you about what my eye can do. I'm really proud of it. Mind if I talk a bit? So I sacrificed my life to defeat Freeza, the guy you're working for."

Goku: "What? You don't like Freeza? You're not a bad guy?"

Granolah: "Shut up Saiyan! You'll pay! Fight me!"

Granolah doesn't want to talk about Freeza all of the sudden when Goku implies they both have been tricked. Granolah becomes stupid just so the fight continues. There's a better way to keep them fighting. SHUT UP, GRANOLAH! If he talked less then convoluted stuff like this wouldn't happen.

Granolah yells "Take this!" He powers up instead of doing an attack... Why yell "take this" then power up if you aren't gonna attack right away? You even knocked Goku out of SSG, so now is the perfect time to finish him.

Blah blah blah, Goku goes SSB and they fight, blah blah blah.

Hey look! In my last review I said something about the planet should shake or be in danger from the battle. Looks like Toyo made the planet shake from the battle. Good job. I like this detail. Will it matter later on? Probably not.

Also, ya notice how god ki and god transformations are limited in this chapter? It seem they got too powerful for there to be any stakes. So we see Vegeta in base & SS. Then we see Goku in base, SS, SSG, base, & SSB so that false tension can build. Its smart but the dialogue doesn't compliment this smart tactic.

Aparently Vegeta doesn't care about the fight. Detective mode activate! (🕵) Vegeta standing in that Oozaru footprint looks like he's in Jurassic Park lol. But why did Detective Vegeta have to touch the footprint? He could had just looked at everything when he was high up and had a bird's eye view. Did Detective Vegeta taste the soil & gain knowledge by tasting the past?

Detective Vegeta: "I think I know who he is."

The Heeters said his name is Granolah, dummy. Shouldn't you say "I think I know what happened here." or something like that? Gimmie your detective hat, your trench coat, your bubble pipe, & you magnifying glass! You give detectives a bad name! I'll give this to somebody more deserving, like Jaco, Videl, Krillin, or Hit.

Did ya notice that Vegeta didn't get hit once but Goku who is using UI gets hit multiple times? Vegeta tells Goku to think instead of use UI? Oh yeah, this chapter was to pander to Vegeta fans. Toyo is poorly trying to convey he is equal or above Goku somehow. Like Vegeta mastered his training but Goku hasn't despite having mastered UI as a transformation thingy.

In conclusion, I was right. Freeza still hasn't been seen yet. Show a pic of him in somebody's thought bubble at the very least. This is all happening because if his influence y'all. Still no visual of Freeza yet... Whateva.

This chapter was wack. Too much unintelligent & unreasonable & unrealistic & unnecessary dialogue, plot went nowhere, Goku is being handicapped so the fight can continue, everyone are stupid idiots, Vegeta is being built up to lose his battle or get lucky & win. No image of Freeza still... This was just a very, very boring chapter.

I expect the next chapter to be boring too. Probably won't see Freeza either.

Prediction

Goku got knocked down twice by Granolah, Vegeta decided to fight second, Granolah said he doesn't need to keep Goku alive, & Vegeta told Goku he should stop relying on UI... Sounds like UI is getting nerfed & Goku is gonna need to be saved by Vegeta so that Vegeta can show off his Hakai training in comparison to UI.

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 24

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Bit of everything – fun, challenge, angst, feels, fluff, confusion, fear, violence. A/N: A long chapter for once o.O  As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag!

Ch. 24

Kakashi's mind is pendulumming between serene quiet and something similar to a wasp nest. One that has been kicked. As someone who's used to logical thinking, he finds the status quo unsettling...but also strangely invigorating despite not carrying any direct risks as supposed to many of his past experiences. Perhaps, at least this once, something can dull the ache he has known for years? Looking at the monument with its sharp lines defining the stones – a design befitting the weight of loss and memories – guilt rears its ugly head.

"Surviving while others pass on can be a burden sometimes," the creaky voice of the Hokage interrupts, "but perhaps our very duty is to do more than just survive. It's to live...because they cannot."

"Hmm." I refuse to forget them even if I one day move on.

The silence between the two men is not enough to stop the rustle of the wind as it rushes between the leaves.

Four days have passed since Kakashi found out he was the warden of Uguisu and he has been doing his best to pay attention to both her and Team 7 and keep their focus on training – a task that's annoyingly easy with the former. Where the trio barely contain their curiosity, the woman has become withdrawn. A logical reaction, the jōnin reminds himself often, but one that leaves him awake most of the night with a head full of worries and nightmarish scenarios.

"She never got to mourn her loved ones, Kakashi. A lone survivor, stranded in the middle of a war-to-be. Our new comrade will need time before she can recognize friend from foe," the old man wisely ponders."

"Haï." I can't push her. Only wait and be ready.

...

Two out of three genin are paying attention to the exercises, refining their techniques to minimize waste of chakra. The last, however, is obviously ogling the fifth person in the clearing and as a result earning his sensei's disapproval.

It isn't the first time Uguisu joins when she's finished her lessons at the Academy. In the beginning, she would sneak closer in the cover of the forest and sit down in a partially obscured spot where she could observe from. To Kakashi, it had brought a sense of familiarity. From the kids, once they noticed her, the primary reaction would be insecurity and it had forced her out of hiding and eventually into training along side them even if her focus had been on other techniques.

The kunai zips past the fox boy’s face and slams into the trunk of the stump with a thud.

“Hey!”

But the boy’s complains fall on deaf ears. “Stay aware of your surroundings at all times...without losing focus of the task at hand, Naruto.”

A mix between a scoff and a laugh slips from Sasuke, causing his team mate to cringe.

In a way, it feels like Kakashi has been in charge of the four “students” for years because he has already figured out their strengths and is trying to find ways to amend their shortcomings. And as the session comes to an end, bringing about sweet free time for the kids, the sensei has made a decision concerning Uguisu’s training.

“Iruka tells me you’re a diligent student,” the jōnin admits as they watch the trio leave, “not much for him to do but fill in some voids and have you polish off the theory. That’s good.”

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei.”

It’s strange how a title he’s heard before without blinking can morph and affect him all of a sudden. The heart beats a little bit faster. The air is a slightly stuffier under the mask. And something in his pelvis tightens enough to tell him he’ll have a different task at hand later.

“Yeah...well...” He pulls out a little bell from a pocket and ties it to one of his belt loops. “I’m maybe more critical.” She arches an eyebrow as an unspoken demand for an explanation. “Genjutsu. Ninjutsu. They’re not the problem...taijutsu is. It made sense for Orochimaru to teach you according to your role off the battlefield and so close combat really isn’t your forte, is it?”

Uguisu scowls. “I can defend myself.”

“I’ve seen. But can you attack?” Gut tightened, Kakashi hates himself for what he’s asking of this woman who has been through hell and finally is beginning the long way back.

Maybe to the untrained eye, the change in her stance wouldn’t be noticeable – it is to any shinobi worth their salt. A slight inwards rotation of the right foot, knees bending a smidgen, hands flexing before summoning the hardness needed to land proper blows. Show me what you’ve got.

Planted solidly, he easily dodges the first blows by bending and twisting, but then Uguisu buckles down to the task. Step. Jump. Parry. They are reflexes rather than active decisions. All too obviously, she prepares for a roundhouse kick which Kakashi can avoid by back flipping away.

“You’re wasting energy with the big movements. Keep it tight and clean -” the jōnin instructs and exemplifies -“to minimize your opponent’s chance to read your actions beforehand.”

Returning to a defensive role, he observes as she tries to implement the pointer. Precise...yes. Pushing a flurry of jabs aside, Kakashi steps around her with ease. And at least she’s quick to orient herself, he admits while scrambling backwards because the student has followed him.

“The perfection of your defence -” he leaps over the woman before continuing -”is what you have to bring into an assault.”

The thin line of her mouth is probably the result of biting back some snarky comment, and Kakashi smiles behind the mask. Fear can lead to fight, flight or freeze...but anger and frustration, on the other hand. So to taunt her, frustrate her, he presents the body language of a bored person and offhandedly blocks and dodges anything Uguisu throws at him.

“Umph!”

Although the strength behind is lacking, the kick still sends the man stumbling backwards, sucking in deep breaths of air to replace what was forced from his lungs. It carries the scent of damp earth, bark, and cotton.

“Ha!” Uguisu triumphs briefly.

“It’ll take more than that.”

A single sign is all it takes for a second Kakashi to appear next to the real one in a puff of white smoke.

“Cheater,” she smirks, seemingly unsurprised by the added figure.

You’re smiling now... Already, he hates himself for what he’ll be doing and the only comfort is the sparring that precedes. Throwing himself into the battle (and keeping the copy on the sidelines), the jōnin coaxes and coaches is student through the moves she has trained on the dummy targets day in and day out.

Slowly, her confidence grows. Not perfect, but better.

“Come at me like you mean it.”

She manages a wry smile. “Intent to kill?”

Yes. A glint of steel in the lowering sun is the only warning the warden has, but he doesn’t mind as long as they follow his plan (one of them without knowing). Kakashi chooses to cheer the woman on instead, finally having to defend himself in earnest although she isn’t on the top 20 of dangerous opponents.

As if in a dance, they circle and move with each other. Step, and leaps, and rolls create a pattern in the trampled grass while continuously bringing the sparring partners closer to the Shadow Clone. Now! The smoke bomb obscures the entire area and forces the combatants to separate until the cloud has blown away – somewhere, Uguisu is using the pause to regain her breath and calm the nerves while the jōnin applies the disguise he’s prepared.

The smoke slowly dissipates, revealing how Uguisu has backed off and prepared herself for anything – almost anything as it turns out when she lays eyes on the adversary and her face contorts in fear. Don't freeze. But how can she not when the mask and wig resembles Orochimaru?

"Take a moment to refocus. Calm down." At least the voice isn't that of her former tormentor. "Breathe."

A kunai shakingly reflects the low sun, knuckles are white from the tight grip on it even as the woman's immediate reaction morphs into bitter resolve.

Kakashi barely manages to dodge the trio of shuriken and is granted no respite as he finds himself under a powerful assault. Pent up hatred swirls and coalesces to drive the blue-haired fury forward – and he lets her for a while. Counting each unused opportunity, the jōnin keeps tracks of how many times he could have fatally wounded her for a while.

"Enough!" A kick to the midriff sends Uguisu tumbling backwards, landing on her butt. "If you want to beat him, you've got to keep your wits!"

She's panting and sweating from the fruitless efforts, but the pallor of fear still clings to her skin. "Haï."

Looks like she means it. Kakashi's own view is restricted more than normal, but he recognizes the way a fighter would evaluate their target: dark eyes are identifying the weak spots, the disadvantages of the opponent. He can see, she has formulated some sort of plan as she pushes to the feet.

"Cheap trick," the woman comments, "but I get your point, sensei."

This time, both of them give as good as they get and the disguised man tries to push every single button he can in an effort to test Uguisu's mind and skills. Hmm, he parries a kick, technique's lacking. Too often, the strikes aimed at him are deflected, resulting in a waste of energy and a gain in frustration. As he begins to outmatch her efforts, he can see the fear return along with the dangerous openings. Using one of those weaknesses, Kakashi strikes quick as a snake, his fingers brushing the delicate skin on her throat before she evades him.

Twice more, similar near-finishes happen.

Finally fed up and pushed to her limits, Uguisu charges. Ignoring any inkling of self-preservation, she attempts a feigned attack towards his right flank followed immediately by a punch which could have broken his nose if he hadn't moved in time. Guiding the woman's movement into a spin, the jōnin leans into her back, a hand on her shoulder to illustrate a potentially fatal situation.

"Never rush in mindlessly." His voice is muffled by the Orochimaru-mask.

Under his hand, Uguisu is tense and shivering, her breath superficial even if she tries to control it enough to say, "I might've left myself open, but at least it's a draw."

"Huh?"

A slight pressure to the inside of Kakashi's left thigh makes him look down between them to find a kunai resting against between the creases of his trousers at the groin. Femoral artery. A slight jangle catches his ear from their other side.

"You used your frustration to distract me and let you close enough," he comments with an unseen smile.

"Hm-m. Now let go and get rid of that hideous stuff!"

...

Uguisu is silent as they walk side by side back to Konoha. I might have gone too far. Still pale, lips reduced to a thin line, the woman appears to be swept away by thoughts, and her warden is loathe to leave her alone in her current state.

"How 'bout a bowl of victory ramen?" he offers quietly.

Nodding silently, a strand of blue hair disentangling itself so she has to push it behind the ear, the girl follows.

It's not until they're sitting with each their own bowl of steaming hot noodles that the usual healthy colour returns to her cheeks although she remains quiet.

...

Kakashi can't sleep.

Again and again, he replays the evening's test and categorizes everything he has learned throughout it. As suspected, close combat isn't the woman's forte although there's hope for further improvement. What worries him the most, however, is the emotional burden she carries. It'll become a lia-

A gentle tap on the windowpane disrupts his thoughts and he turns to see a familiar silhouette perched outside which he waves to welcome in. The jōnin wants to reach out to her when she has settled in the window sill, wants to take her hand and apologize for the hardships and the trauma lingering. Instead, he lies quietly with the hands behind the head and watches her squirm for a while.

"Can I sit on the bed?"

Even without the small, shaky voice, he would have agreed in an instant and scoots over. Uguisu waits until he's in place once more, then she comes to sit in silence.

One minute. I wouldn't have to stretch my arm to reach her hand.

Three minutes. When does her breathing calm?

Eight minutes. Is that...? A thin path down her cheek glitters in the moonlight breaking through the clouds randomly. Shit. This is my fault. A logic thought protests against the claim to blame but is immediately drowned.

"Ugui-"

"Please, don't talk," she interrupts.

He shuts up not just because she asks him but because she reaches out and grabs his hand, sending a bucketful of nerves into overloading as they race to relay the input. Warm. Soft, despite the expected patches of callouses that match his own. A slight tremor runs from her to Kakashi and only diminishes as he caresses her knuckles with a thumb.

"Is't..? Would..?" Her blush is unreasonable adorable when combined with the meek stammer.

Pushing the pillow sideways, Kakashi tries to contain a giddiness. "You don't have to ask, just make yourself comfortable."

"Carte blanche to do anything I want?"

"Well..." He contemplates the possible risks. "Yeah."

Uguisu insists that he keeps the pillow as she lies down on the side with an arm under her head instead. Knees tucked towards the chest and a hand still clasping his, she finally seems to find a sort of peace. I should apologize. But as he formulates and discards a variety of sentences, the woman's eyelids grow heavy and soon, she's sleeping. It's a light sleep, disturbed by dreams that furrow her brows and the slightest movement by Kakashi – when he tries to reach over and pull the covers around her, she's startled awake.

Through the night, the jōnin doses on and off, comfortable with the sound of the second heartbeat travelling through the mattress and into his ear. Finally calm.

...

Maybe it's the cold, emptiness of his hand that wakes Kakashi...at least it's the first thing he registers, quickly followed by the awareness that the mattress is only giving in to the pressure of his own weight. When he opens the eye, the weak dawn is battling against clouds and the mind of the jōnin takes time to theorize that they grey layer won't recede during the day. Something else adds to the shadows still filling the room: Uguisu is standing by the window.

"Mrug'shu?" At least the curses are clearly articulated in Kakashi's mind.

A sad smile tugs at the woman's cheek, softened by the light. "Go back to sleep, 'Kashi...and...thank you."

"Always."

The window swooshes as it slides back and forth in the rail, cutting off the connection between the two of them. Whyyyyy? Rubbing his face hard and scratching the white hair until his scalp tingles, he's left with no answers and only the scent of cotton that lingers in the sheets next to him. That's it...the unbeatable Copy-Ninja has been defeated. I'm done for! If anyone was watching him, though, they'd see the mask pulled askew by a goofy smile.

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Why Can't This Be Love

Chapter 1: Here It Comes

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Click to read on Archive 

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Title - Why Can't This Be Love by Van Halen

Dedicated to @slashpalooza and @sam-i-am2468

___

Eddie’s Tuesday started out as it normally did. Half a grapefruit for breakfast, thoroughly shower, text his best friend, Richie, a stupid meme, call Mike to confirm lunch for tomorrow, work from 8am to 6pm, and come home to pour himself a glass of wine. 

Right now he was pouring 4 glasses because around 3:00pm, Beverly called asking if her and Ben could come by to tell him something exciting and that Richie had to be there too. He was not sure what they could possibly want to talk about with the two of them. Eddie tried to push down the anxiety that they might be angry about something. He was pretty sure he didn’t do anything horrible recently, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Richie! Can you help me?” Eddie shouted from the kitchen of his apartment. “I don’t have enough hands to carry everything!”

“Coming, my love!” Richie joked annoyingly. Although Eddie didn’t find it entirely annoying, it’s just Richie being ridiculous. 

His tall friend padded into the kitchen wearing his worn out leather jacket that he thought made him look cool, a print shirt with a meme on it that Eddie didn’t get, and jeans, “I know what they are going to tell us.” Richie stated confidently with a little bounce in his step. 

“Did they tell you already? That’s not fair!” Eddie said in frustration. “They couldn’t wait two more damn minutes?”

“No, I have a guess, Eds.” 

“Don’t call me Eds.”

“I think Ben finally got the courage to propose to Beverly.” Richie went on with a smile. “Or she grabbed him by the balls and told him to do it.”

Eddie snorted at the imagery and wouldn’t put it past Bev to be that aggressive but probably wouldn’t to the love of her life. “That’s wonderful if it’s the news.” 

“I bet you 50 bucks it is,” Richie challenged, “Ben was looking mighty anxious at Bill’s wedding a year ago.” 

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “I barely remember Bill’s wedding. I was so blackedout.” 

Richie rolled his eyes dramatically, “You were stupidly mourning the loss of Myra the hydra.” Eddie cringed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. 

“Be nice, Rich.” Eddie frowned. He pulled out a packet of thin mint girl scout cookies for all of them to snack on.  

Richie rolled his eyes as he sipped quickly from the glass of wine, clearly not finished speaking, “I don’t know why either. She was a carbon copy of your mother. Her leaving was the best thing to ever happen to you.” 

“Yes, being extremely single has done wonders for my self-esteem.” Eddie mumbled.

Richie leaned over and flicked Eddie’s nose, “You’re a catch, dummy.” 

He yelped, rubbing his nose and getting goosebumps from their intensely close position. Eddie grabbed the other two glasses, thin mints and turned on his heel to walk out of the kitchen. “Fine, 50 bucks it isn’t an engagement.” 

“Sweet! Also, those pants look good on you.” Richie pointed out following from behind him. 

Eddie’s cheeks heated up a little, he purposely wore these dark navy blue jeans because Richie always compliments them. He wondered if Richie remembered that he did this every time. Eddie doubted it. When it was just the two of them, Richie constantly tried to make Eddie feel special and wanted. Eddie suspected Richie did it because he felt sorry for him, but he couldn’t be sure. Despite knowing his best friend pretty well, he was also a huge enigma. Constantly says whatever is on his mind, does the most spontaneous - borderline suicidal - things, and keeps a smile on his face no matter what he may be feeling. 

They plop down on the couch in Eddie’s living room. His place was what Richie called a ‘clean mess’, probably the best description of Eddie ever said. He had the habit of hoarding things he didn’t really need. Piles of books on every table that he had already read, knick-knacks from trips, more candles than any one person needed on all open surfaces. He had really nice furniture that matched well in a blend of warm colors. Beverly and Ben sat in two mahogany chairs across from them, holding hands. 

Eddie placed the wine glasses on monster movie poster coasters that Richie gifted him years ago when they were teens. They grew up together and remained close throughout the years, regardless of college or moving around. In fact, Eddie had six very close friends from childhood. The group called themselves the Losers Club, a title courtesy of Richie. 

“Thanks, Eddie!” Beverly said nicely. Ben thanked him too. Richie sat beside Eddie, the side of their thighs touching as he scooted closer to hand him wine. Eddie always felt so comfortable around all his friends, they were the only ones he let be touchy with him. He used to hate germs and be easily disgusted by everything, but when the people he was closest with shared food, drinks, and beds with him, that feeling went away gradually. 

“Alright, lads,” Richie started up with a newsies kid accent. “What’s the scoop? Striking Pulitzer again?” 

“Well,” Ben’s round cheeks turned pink as he said, “We’ve got pretty big news.” Eddie observed Ben take both Beverly’s hands into his own big ones. 

Beverly was practically jumping in her seat, her flamming red short curls bouncing against the sides of her face. She shared a big smile with Ben as she blurted out, “WE ARE GETTING MARRIED!”

“FUCK YES!” Richie shouted. He flew off the couch tackling Beverly in a huge hug. 

“Please, don’t hurt my girlfrie-I mean fiancé.” Ben said softly, clearly surprised how much he enjoyed calling her that. 

Eddie got up to hug Ben tightly, saying congratulations. Beverly kissed both men before they sat back down. Eddie raised his glass. “Cheers, to two people who’s friendship, romance, and love are unparalleled.” 

They clinked glasses and drank. Richie bumped Eddie lightly, “Cheers to owing me $50.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie nodded toward the counter. “You can grab it from my wallet before you go home.” 

“You can just buy me dinner this weekend.” Richie waved his hand.

“So Rich, you know what me getting married also means?” Beverly’s eyes shined brightly at him. He looked between her and Ben, thinking. Then dawning flashed on his face. He put his glass down and stood on the couch. 

“Richie, no!” Eddie pleaded desperately. “You are going to fall! Idiot!” 

He jumped up and down like a child discovering Christmas came early. “I AM GOING TO BE DUDE OF HONOR!” 

They all laughed at his excitement. One of the things the losers club decided in their 20’s, after a particularly ugly fight about who would be who’s best man or ‘dude of honor’ in this case, was that each of them would take turns. 

So far, Bill and Stanley had gotten married. To two incredible women, Audra and Patty. Eddie was Bill’s and Bill was Stan’s best man. The rest of the sequence goes: Mike is Richie’s, Richie is Bev’s, Bev is Eddie’s, Stan is Ben’s, and Ben is Mike’s. Mike is fairly confident he won’t get married and neither will Richie, which he says is for the best as he is far too stressed as a person to get married or be a best man. 

Eddie recalled that a huge fight he had with Myra was over Beverly being his Best Woman. She shouted at him for hours that there was no reason a woman should be when he had all these guy friends. Explaining the losers club deal to her did nothing but place fuel on the fire. ‘Sometimes I think you love them more than me!’ Looking back, he most certainly did. Eddie was fairly certain he would always love the losers most in this world. Which furthered the cycle of being horribly single. Sometimes he thought he was in a polyamorous asexual relationship with 6 other people. They were too close.

Richie finished up his jumping and landed on the couch half on Eddie. “OW!” Eddie yelled. “That fucking hurt. You aren’t light enough to plop all your weight on me.” 

Richie slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and kissed the side of his face. “Sorry, Eds.”

Eddie wiped his face that got kissed on Richie’s shoulder, pretending to get the germs off. “Have you told everyone else?” 

“We have…” Ben begun slowly. Eddie didn’t like the tone he was using. “Stanley’s already started his best man duties.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’re getting married altogether like Bill and Stan did?” Richie said, seeming to also realize this was odd. 

“Because we have to ask a favor of you.” Ben brought his hand up to start biting his nails the way he did when he was about to deliver bad news. 

“Favor is too nice, babe. This is not a favor or a request. It is a requirement if you both want to be at this wedding.” Beverly let go of Ben’s hand to place it on her knee. She rubbed her thighs once, gearing up to tell them. Eddie had a couple guesses about what she may want to say but nothing prepared him for what it actually was, “You have to bring a date.” 

Eddie leaned back in confusion, realizing Richie’s arm was still around him so it brought them both laying back against the couch. Richie removed his arm and started fidgeting with his fingers. Eddie worried his bottom lip before saying quietly, “Why?” 

Beverly looked to Eddie with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Eddie, but we don’t want a repeat of Stan and Bill’s weddings.”

Eddie’s face immediately turned red with embarrassment. Three years ago, Stanley got married and that was around when he left his mother’s place for the third time. A year later, Bill got married and he had his break up with Myra. On both occasions, Eddie took a bad combination of too many pills and drinking more than he ever had in his life. Resulting in major blackouts and behavior he cannot remember but knows second hand from everyone what happened.

“Why do we both have to have dates?” Richie said, voice a little strained and weird.

Beverly rounded on him with no sympathy. “Because, Richard, when YOU go to weddings you fuck everyone and break shit. A date will keep you focused on that person and not be a chaotic monster with a death wish.”

Richie laughed, “If I want to be fucked by all your bridesmaids at the same time then I should be allowed to do that!”

Beverly’s voice rose higher, “That’s literally not possible, asshole! And the only bridesmaid is Kay McCall.” 

“Damn. Kay’s beautiful but I don’t screw married women.” Richie’s face scrunched up. “Does that make her a bride’s matron?”

“High morals there Richie,” Ben said trying to lighten the mood.

“You know it Ben Handsome.” He winked. 

Eddie sat there trying to word what he wanted to say carefully. As Richie continued to dig himself a deeper hole, “We are getting off-topic. I’m saying if I want to have sex with someone and have a little fun or if Eddie wants to get so drunk he mistakes your grandma for a urinal, then we should have that right.” 

This brings Eddie back, “Richie!” 

“What? Nana Denbrough thought she was at a waterpark. You’re fine.” 

He put his hands on his face and folded forward. Richie scratched his back soothingly but didn’t stop trying to defend himself. Beverly eventually got so fed up that she pulled out her phone and played a video from YouTube. 

“Exhibit A, Bill and Audra’s wedding.” She said viciously. 

Eddie groaned as he raised his head to watch the screen. Bill’s younger brother Georgie had filmed people talking about Bill and Audra. He put the most unfortunate video, starring Eddie and Richie, on the internet for the world to see. 

Video Eddie looked miserable and spaced out. Georgie had to say his name three times before Eddie looked up and hiccuped. “Oh hey, Georgie!” Video Eddie said enthusiastically. “Having fun kiddo?” 

“I’m 21, Eddie. Not really a kid anymore.” Georgie’s voice said laughing. 

“Stay a kid forever,” Eddie begged him.

“Ok, Eddie. What do you want to say to Bill and Audra?” 

“Bill...I want you to know that you are the bravest man alive and I would die for you. Audra, you better be good to him.” Video Eddie points at the camera and almost falls forward. Suddenly, video Richie appears, catching him. He giggles bopping video Richie on the nose and keeping his face precariously close to video Richie’s face. 

Video Eddie frowns suddenly and looks back at the camera, “But don’t fall too too in love. You might get your heart broken like me. Love is dumb. Women are dumb. They don’t really care about you.” 

Video Richie had his hair slicked back and was laughing at video Eddie’s truths, “Eds! This day isn’t about you. It’s about Bill and Audra. We should be telling stories about them!”

“Oh god,” Eddie said as his stomach turned reliving the next part again. 

“So Audra, let me tell you about Bill’s first time. He had a girlfriend in high school, blonde and pretty, much like yourself and they were dating for about…” 

Video Eddie hiccups, “4 months.” Then smashes his face into video Richie’s neck. “You smell like whiskey.” He winces.

Video Richie laughed, cheeks reddening from drunkenness, “Thank you, Eds. When they decided to fuck for the first time, he got everything all set and she came over that evening. As he was eating her out.” 

“Richie, kids could see this.” Video Georgie warned through obvious laughter.

“As Bill was going downtown on her hoo-hoo she got a little too excited and shat the bed.” All three men were shrieking with laughter. Video Eddie wrapped his arms around video Richie, shaking uncontrollably with glee. Despite the horribleness of the situation, Eddie smiled a little. “Now it’s unclear where all the crap ended up but we can guess that…”

Beverly stopped the video glaring at Richie intently. Eddie looked at him and he only smiled. “We won’t even get into the nuclear mess that was Stanley and Patti Uris’s wedding right now. But we want you both to have a date so there is no chance of you completely embarrassing me, Ben, and yourselves.” 

Eddie scoffed, “Richie embarrasses himself on every date he goes on. What makes you think one brought to the wedding will be any better?” 

“Oh yeah?” Richie gazed at him steadily. Eddie braced himself for the incoming insult. As much as he could dish it, he rarely could take it. Especially against Richie’s quick tongue, “And when was the last time you even fucking went on a date to embarrass yourself?” 

“I can get dates!” 

“A night alone with your right hand isn’t a date.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trashmouth!” 

Suddenly, two armchair pillows smacked the side of Eddie and Richie’s heads. They both rounded on Beverly and Ben but the stare of death Beverly was giving stopped their prepared protests. 

“If you assholes want to come to my wedding,”

“Our wedding…” Ben whispered.

She turned her ever reddening face, almost the color of her hair, at her financé, “Not if you correct me, Benjamin! Don’t make me marry myself!” She focused back on Eddie and Richie, pointing a bitten nail at them menacingly. “...you will have dates and BEHAVE at the reception or so help me, I’ll castrate you!” 

There was a pregnant pause broken by the one who can never stay quiet long. “What about the ceremony?” Richie responded, “Can I at least ruin that?”

She stared at him, everyone ready for more yelling but instead she broke into a gorgeous smile and laughed. It lightened the moment but Eddie didn’t find he felt any less anxious. He fully contemplated this enormous request from his friends. Finding a good wedding date took time, he only ever had committed relationships. Well, the one with Myra. As much as Richie’s words hurt, he was right. Eddie didn’t go on dates. People didn’t tend to find him datable. “Too short, too high maintenance, too weird” were just a few of the flaws that consumed him. He had no clue how he was expected to get someone to go to this wedding with him. 

The four of them started discussing wedding details, Beverly and Richie talking a mile a minute about everything that had to get done. He was especially excited to plan a bachelorette party. With how much money Ben and Bev make, it sounded like they would get their dream wedding easily. 

Eddie was thrilled for them but that pang of being single and now having to find a date was eating him alive for the two more hours they stayed. When they finally called it a night, Beverly and Ben hugged them promising to talk tomorrow. 

Richie did not follow them out which meant he wanted to drink and talk more, probably spend the night there. Eddie had a guest room that was essentially Richie’s room since he spent the most time there. 

“You want ice cream?” Richie shouted from the kitchen where he was most likely opening another bottle of wine. 

“With chocolate syrup!” Eddie yelled back. 

“Oh, chocolate syrup night means major troubles.” Richie laughed. 

“What are we gonna do Rich?” Eddie whined miserably. “Or rather, what the fuck am I going to do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“About the fucking dates!” Eddie laid sideways on the couch, grabbing the cushion pillow and placing it over his face to scream into. 

“Don’t be a drama queen.” Richie said. The couch shifted as he sat down by Eddie’s legs. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie mumbled into the pillow. 

Two hands extracted the pillow from his face. Eddie kept his eyes scrunched closed. “I can’t speak pillow.” 

Eddie huffed out, “It’s easy for you to not be worried. You are a serial dater.” 

“Open your eyes, Eds.” Richie chuckled. Eddie opened them to pout childishly at him.

He had his smirky smile on, which could only mean he had a terrible idea. “I have a great idea to get us out of getting actual dates.”

Eddie stared at him from his laid down position, probably giving Richie an unattractive double chin, “There is no loophole in this agreement, Rich. Beverly was really fucking clear. We have to have dates.” 

“And we will.” Richie poured wine into both their glasses. He handed it to Eddie, forcing him to sit up in order to drink it. While Eddie drank normally, Richie downed his quickly then licked his lips. 

“Who am I gonna have to take to Ben and Beverly’s wedding?”

Richie watched him carefully, opened his mouth and said, “You’ll take me. I will be your wedding date. And by default, you will be mine” Eddie’s mouth dropped and Richie clinked his empty glass with Eddie’s full one.

______________________

In honor of IT: Chapter 2 coming out soon, I have begun writing this fake dating idea! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, comment here or on archive and let me know your thoughts and feels! The title is thanks to Slashpalooza on tumblr who asked me a million years ago to write something with this title!

Tag List (Starting a new tag list since I don’t know who is still around in the fandom. Let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sarah011 @pan-ini @frankeeenstein @sam-i-am2468 @eds-kas @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @roobarrtrashmouth @hypnoidvoid @imeddie @slashpalooza @reddieforlove 

[milkybunbuns]

smile → kita.s

Map reading tragedy - 6

w/c: 1.1 K

warnings: none

SMILE MASTERLIST

-

it was the day that every second and third year in the volleyball team dreaded, or at least you thought so. finally, sunday had come and it was the day when yui would be moving away. spirits were still kept high though, as everyone wandered through the beautiful streets of hyogo, clad in thick fur jackets, beanies, scarves and mittens. you held onto your beanie as a particularly harsh gust of wind passed by, threatening to blow your hat away and to carry it far off into the distance.

"atsumu, are you sure we're heading in the right direction? we've been walking for the past 15 minutes and this park is only supposed to be 5 minutes away."

"of course we're going in the right direction, i'm great at following directions!"

"atsumu-san. hand over the map", kita gestured for the map a creepy blank look implanted on his face making everyone sweat drop. atsumu handed over the map without any thought, not wanting to disappoint his captain. kita inspected the map for a few seconds, quickly coming up to the reason as to why it was taking so long. "you were holding the map upside down."

this sent the second years and most of the third years into a fit of laughter. "only tsumu' would do something so dumb!"

"oh my god, i think this actually has made my life worthwhile, i think i'm crying-"

"don't worry atsumu! better luck not being an idiot next time, you'll need all the luck you can get!"

"how is this even possible. how can one be so stupid to do something like that", yui deadpanned, facepalming while opening up a map app on her phone. "the park is all the way back there, this time, ya'll will be following me, we cant let a bunch of dummies minus kita-san take the map."

----

"uhm yui-san, i hate to tell you, but it's been like 20 minutes and we're still not there yet", you popped into her field of vision, your voice covering the annoyed grumbling ones of everyone else. kita was tasked with holding the picnic basket since everyone else would just eat all the food before even arriving at the destination. no one even dared try to grab a piece of bread from inside to fill their hunger, too afraid to do so.

"are you sure it's been 20 minutes?"

"yeah, everyone is getting hungry."

"it can't be much further, just another 5 minutes."

"okay", you retreated back to the end of the group beside kita, to make sure no one got lost or was left behind.

"so how was it?", he asked, eyes still staring straight ahead.

"yui-san said that it'll only be another 5 minutes."

"alright."

----

"ermmm where are we?"

"uhhh"

"this isn't a park."

"no shit sherlock."

"yes, call me sherlock atsumu."

"ew, that sounds so dumb. at least i don't have to share a family name with you now."

"my name is sherlock miya atsumu."

"that's even worse."

"awww, just admit you love the name as you're jealous you're not a sherlock."

"what person in the right mind would be jealous of you?"

"plenty of people!"

"from your imagination?"

"noo, you're one of them."

"sure."

"osamu. atsumu."

"yes, sorry kita-san!"

"yui-san, please hand over your map", kita gestured for the map, "the location that has been set is wrong. we were meant to take a left as a street 17 minutes ago. we've been going in the wong direction for a long time."

"o-oh, sorry."

"I'll take the map. it's for the best, clearly."

----

the group finally stepped out into a beautiful open area, children gleefully running around, a glimmering lake in the middle of it all with multiple stalls selling various bits and bobs set up near it.

"finally! i knew we could rely on ya kita-senpai", you smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder gently.

"i am sure that any of us would've been able to do it eventually", he replied bluntly, completely missing the point of what you had said. why couldn't he just say thanks or something?

"of course of course, whatever you say kita-senpai", you mocked, rushing off towards the lake first, spreading your arms out and letting the wind blow against your face as you ran backwards, tumbling onto the grass. laying down, you allowed yourself to make grass angels and was soon joined by atsumu who copied your moves. then came akagi and suna who made a grass human, not bothered to move and too just plop down onto the grass. how had you gotten so close and easy going with the team within a week of knowing them, minus osamu? kita, being the oh-so responsible captain had laid down the mat and was beginning to set up the various plates of food, with yui helping as everyone else wandered off.

"kita-senpai, come play with me at the swings!"

"aren't we a bit too old?"

"aw don't be a downer! pleeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaseeee? you can set up the food later!"

"y/n-chan is right kita-san, I'll take care of the food, you guys enjoy yourselves."

"i can't, this is supposed to be for you and yet you're doing all the work."

"it's fine, you're helping me by making my favourite ship sail!"

"i dont understand how hanging out with y/n-san will make a ship sail?"

"aiyo, just go already lah", yui said, pushing kita towards you, who was eagerly waiting by the swings. kita moved over to you robotically, looking at you judgingly, but you seemed unfazed by it.

"push me?", you asked him, holding tightly onto the chains holding the swings up, feet not quite reaching the floor, allowing you to swing your feet back and forth.

"okay", he complied, beginning to gently push you forwards by your back, "hold on tightly."

"mhm, i will", you smiled brightly like a child on Christmas eve, rejoicing in the feeling of childhood. kita began to push the swing gently, just enough for a romantic atmosphere, without pushing you to the point where you would feel nauseous. if only this could last forever

"what did you say l/n-san?"

"huh? i didn't say anything and didn't i tell you to call me y/n?"

"sorry, I'll keep that in mind, but you did mention something about lasting forever?"

"oh that. ill be straight forwards with you. i wish that we can be together forever."

"mmm..."

"I'll miss you after you graduate. it might sound a bit odd coming from someone you've only known for a week, but i feel like I've known you forever."

"it's not odd at all, we won't ever judge you."

"since when have you been so sentimental?"

"i'm just stating the facts."

"well then, i look forward to cracking a smile out of you."

"of course", he nodded as you got off the swing, hands behind your back and grinning, before rushing off towards yui where all the food was laid out and ready to enjoy.

[ata-art]

So this idea has been floating around in the back of my head for over a year now, but I never got around to doing anything with it until the other day when I drew up some designs, and now it’s become my procrastination project, these pages are so fun to do!

But yeah, I wanted to do something which was like, snapshots from Taako and Lup's spellbook, full of my headcanons about them as kids, an excuse to get all expositiony about how I think magic works, and just a chance to write sibling dialogue because that's always fun

Taako mentions in episode one his spellbook is actually just a copy of "Seven Habits of Highly Effective Elves", so I took that and ran with it, the twins found a copy of that book and turned it into their spellbook by writing and doodling all over it. It's sort of part encyclopedia, part high school diary, and part mutual memo board, and I've got so many ideas for this so I'll definitely make more pages when I get the chance, but have these for now!

(Second set here)

(Transcript under the cut for those who can’t see the images or find the handwriting hard to read)

First Image - Book Cover: Book: The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Elves (250th anniversary edition) Taako: aka us. Lup: we found this in someone’s trash and repurposed it into a spellbook - effective. elves. T: Okay well don’t write that on the cover. L: why not? it’s ours.

Second Image: [title page and first page of the book, the first page has been pasted over with brown paper to cover the text, the title page is covered in notes and doodles]

Book: The Seven Habits Of Highly Effective Elves T: who do magic and stuff B: By Stevynn Covar (crossed out by Lup) T: Taako L: & Lup ^^

Notes on page: L: yo taako if you see this remember we gotta find a recipe to use up the last of that fish - if it goes bad that's another meal we don't get to eat T: Yeah yeah I got it.

T: Found another one time gig - back by 10

L: i know you were on a date tonight!!! i gotta be up early but you're not getting out of this without giving me deets!!

L (written at bottom of page): i'm bored... we've been on the road for like literally FOREVER

L (with arrow pointing to paper): stuck like this until taako can figure out how to get rid of the text on the page T: I can do it, I just can't do it permanently. L: same thing doofus XP

Page 2: T: So magic. There's a lot of it. L: No shit, dummy! T: Shut the fuck up, my intro! T: ANYWAY, as I was SAYING, so much magic out there, one day we're gonna learn ALL of it. But this book is gonna focus on two schools of magic L: (the BEST schools!) T: Transmutation and Evocation L: That's mine ^^ T: and mine.

T: School of Transmutation [a small diagram of a rock turning into a gemstone] Okay, so, this is the school of turning shit into other shit. Very useful for - just about everything, actually. Best school of magic, hands down. L: Nu-uh, evocation is totally way better! T: Sure thing, Lulu. Remind me - who's the one conjuring food out of thin air or fixing your damn outfits every time you rip them? L: Yeah but can you set a bad guy on FIRE??? Didn't think so XP T: Actually yes. L: that's just cuz you know my spells.

L: School of Evocation L: fire. ‘nuff said. [a doodle of lup with her hands on fire, there is an arrow pointing to it with the word “me”, next to her is a dead guy on the ground, with an arrow pointing to it that says “you”]

T: Useful spells Lup knows: 2 (Lup has crossed out the 2 and replaced it with “all of them”) Useful spells Taako knows: 5

Note from older twins in different coloured pen: T: Hey remember when we only knew 7 spells? L: Gods, BABIES T: I still know more spells than you L: You WISH

Third Image: [a two page spread each featuring a spell written by Taako, the pages are still covered in doodles]

First page: Message Components: Copper Wire. Easy enough to find, doesn’t need replacing, could wear as ring? (Taako has later crossed this out and written over it “Earrings work better.”, there is a doodle of both a wire ring and wire earrings here)

We learned this off that old guy in the... that merc caravan near the west coast? When we were about 40, I think. He was cool, couldn't speak so basically used this for everything, had a lot of great notes about non verbal spell casting (see page 13). Anyway it's basically instant telepathy which is like, hella useful in a bunch of situations. L: Like that time you got your ass stuck in a cave [crossed out by Taako] T: Never happened.

Message is pretty intuitive, point and think. Just be careful to direct it at the target and not broadcast your thoughts to everyone in the area. L: It was ONE TIME!!!

[a doodle by lup at the bottom of the page featuring the two of them with closed eyes and the words ~magic thought powers~ between them]

Second page: Mending Components: 2 lodestones. This is a problem - they’re hard to come by. Never did get my first set back after the Ravenpoint militia confiscated them. L: Yeah, cuz you stole them. T: Not important.

The most useful spell I know. In this line of work, things get broken. Clothes get torn. Sisters set fire to everything. L: Hey!! >:( T: You gotta be able to fix your own shit.

Technique for this one - So, you're channelling this through two lodestones, right? Lodestones come in pairs, and they always want to be together. If you let them sit next to each other they'll snap together, and you gotta pull them apart. It's this energy you use to fix whatever got broke, channelling the transmutation power from things that want to be together, into things that don't, like the two sides of a ripped piece of cloth. You gotta be careful though, think about what it is you're fixing. If you just let it snap together like the lodestones, it'll all fuse into a huge nasty mess. You gotta guide it. Imagine like you're holding a lodestone in each hand, and trying to put them together without making a noise. Or actually try that, you have the lodestones. Now imagine that but with the thing you're fixing. If you can swing that, you're golden. And don't try to fix a person with this spell, you'll fuck them up real bad. L: seriously, don’t :(

[a diagram at the bottom by Taako of two lodestones (naturally occuring magnets), with arrows pointing towards each other and the label “Lodestones”. Lup has drawn the magnetic fields over the arrows and written “magic”]