#my ao3 crosspost

[estinininininen]

FFIV: Arm in Arm, Hand in Hand, ao3 link, ~2400 words

Rydia has a simple request for Cecil.

He'd do anything for her. She doesn't want to make it weird.

(He makes it weird.)

warning: unbearable cuteness

Cecil and Rosa agreed at once when Rydia asked for a private moment.

"Thanks for seeing me," Rydia said. "I know you're busy all the time."

"It's no problem," Cecil said. "I'd make time for you. Are you hungry? Did you have a good trip?" Taciturn King Cecil only babbled around people he liked. "Surely you must know I'd make time. Surely you know that."

"I know. I believe you. And I'm fine," Rydia said, even as Rosa brought a tray of tea to their table and Cecil jumped up to help her. Rydia stood up on court etiquette but Rosa shooed her back into the chair. "Really, I won't need more than a moment with you, but I wanted to ask you something."

"To ask something in private," Cecil said. "Are you safe? Are you in danger? What do you need?"

"I'm sure she's fine," Rosa said. She had an idea what Rydia might say, but it was important and Rydia should be the one to ask.

"I'm fine," Rydia said. "I'm more than fine."

"Right, right," Cecil said. "You wouldn't let anyone get the drop on you."

Rydia wrinkled her nose like she always did when teasing. "You should know that by now. No one gets past me if I don't want them to."

"Dear, have a little faith in her otherwordly magical abilities," Rosa said.

Cecil held up his hands. "Don't need faith. Seen it myself." He laughed. The stress of being King melted from his face. "I just worry about you, when I'm not looking." His expression blanked, and history for a moment weighed over their little table. Rydia and Rosa understood this was a truth that popped out before Cecil meant it to.

"That's alright," Rydia said. "I worry about you two, too." Then she stopped. Whatever Rydia had to say, she might need a little prompting.

Rosa covered the pause in conversation with pouring the tea. "How is Edge?" she asked.

"Speaking of people I worry about," Cecil said.

Rydia smiled and tucked her head down a little, to hide her glee. It was such a typical movement for a young woman in love that Cecil had to hold his surprise.

"Well. Edge and I. Um. We just got back from visiting the Feymarch," she said.

The Feymarch was a home to Rydia, and to everyone else it was the long-forgotten alien world of sentient monsters of legend. Even though Cecil and Rosa had been, twice, they still felt a thrill of awe when it was mentioned.

"And?" Rosa said. "It . . . went well? Asura and Leviathan are well?" she asked, stumbling and falling back on neutral politeness.

"Oh yes. I wanted to introduce them to Edge again, and for him to spend enough time for them to get to know each other. He managed to spend two whole weeks out of Eblan, got everything prepared and signed off. He gets so much more done when he's motivated. It turned into six months in the Feymarch. I think he really appreciated a long time away from the throne."

"Between us? Can't say I blame him," Cecil said. "And this . . . went alright? Edge in the Feymarch?"

"For half a year?" Rosa said.

"Yeah," Rydia said. When Rydia had started looking dreamy-eyed when talking about Edge, Cecil couldn't say, but it made his heart clench a little at his responsibilities drawing him away from friends. "Yeah, he and I had a wonderful time. I miss them all already," she sighed. "But, it also really is like Asura tried to tell me. I miss the surface, too. I'm glad now she told me to get out of the Feymarch more." She took a sip of her tea. "I don't think I'll be going back for such long periods anymore."

"Oh?" Cecil said. "Not that I'm not afraid when the next time I see you you'll have grown old, but are you sure that's what you want?"

"Mist is also my home," Rydia said. "And Eblan is too, now-"

"Oh," Cecil said, and Rosa thought, Ah.

"-and I've done what I set out to do with the new order of Summoners," Rydia continued. "There's not many, but there are some. My distant cousins, or random chance. They're doing so great, they study everything I tell them, and practice all the time," she said.

"Wait, but do you not still intend to keep them hidden? You don't need to tell us about them," Cecil said. "I still think you shouldn't. For their sake."

"I won't," Rydia said. "And I'm not. But I get to be proud of them, right? Let me brag a little! They're doing all the hard work but I like to think it's because I'm a good teacher, too!"

They all laughed.

She continued. "My point is, Mist is my home but it's not going to be the home of Summoners any longer. We're going to move around, stay separated for a time."

"That's a hard life," Cecil said.

"Not like wanderers," Rydia said. "Just a hidden group, our people in different places around the world. Living ordinary lives, as black mages or white mages. I might even have a Sage on my hand, if they can hold on to the balance. But I will be the only one who knows where all of them are," she said.

Cecil assumed this was what she needed help with. "What do you need? Anything I can give, I will," he said.

"Oh, no," Rydia said. "It's already done. The ninja skills have been of great help. Edge taught them the basics."

Cecil and Rosa glanced at each other. "He did?" Rosa said.

"He knows them?" Cecil said.

"He's the one who suggested all the subterfuge," Rydia said.

"But, he is . . . " A king, Cecil wanted to say.

"Ah," Rydia said. She sighed. "It really is unavoidable, politics."

"No. No," he said. "Not for this. It's too important. Does he understand that no one else can know? If, all the gods forbid, one day Eblan does as Baron did, then a record Edge leaves behind, even accidentally-"

"I don't think that will be a problem," Rydia said. "He doesn't know their names, or where they are. Give us some credit, please."

"Of course, of course," Cecil said. "But-"

"I don't think Eblan and the Summoners are going to be in conflict for a long time, unless Edge is taken off the throne," Rydia said, and shifted in her seat.

Rosa shifted. "Rydia, I know you've spent a lot of time with him, but he will always be the leader of his people before a friend," she said.

"I know. I know that!" She threw up her hands. "Next thing you're going to tell me is he has to marry some day," Rydia said, and avoided looking them in the eye.

"I'm sure that's hard to think about, Rydia," Cecil said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Whatever happens, Rosa and I will be here for you." He looked to Rosa for assistance, who was now being quiet for some reason Cecil couldn't fathom. "It - it might not even change much between you and Edge," he said.

"Well I hope not," Rydia said, "because he's married to me."

Cecil stopped rubbing his thumb over Rydia's scapula.

"What?" he said.

"I married him," she said. Her eyes twinkled and her nose was, very slowly, wrinkling again. "Edge. We got married. We decided in the Feymarch."

Rosa broke into a huge smile.

"Arm Lady and Daddymonster were really patient with him," Rydia said, using her private family nicknames for Asura and Leviathan from when she was a girl. "Daddymonster especially, while Edge figured it out. He was right, he needed time away from court."

Cecil said, "What?"

"Time away from court. To figure out that I am much scarier than Eblan court politics," Rydia said.

"Much scarier," Rosa said.

"No," Cecil said. "I mean, you . . . got married? You married Edge?"

Rosa giggled and stood up to cover his ears, laughing at him. "He needs a moment," she said.

Rydia was giggling now, too. "Why - why is he like this whenever anyone surprises him?"

"It's good news, Cecil," Rosa said, drumming his skull. "Don't think too hard."

"Hey, hey now," he said, grabbing Rosa and pulling her into his lap. "Of course it's good news! Con - Congratulations!" he said.

"Why are you wheezing," Rydia said, now laughing in full.

"I just needed a moment," Cecil said. "Oh, oh. Oh. You're married." He stood up. Rosa squealed in indignation as she was forced to stand up too.

"Cecil, what-"

"You're the Queen of Eblan, now," Cecil said.

Rosa dashed around and grabbed Rydia in a huge hug.

"I feel like - like this is very good but maybe a little bit rushed," Cecil said.

Rosa glared at him from over Rydia's head.

"Are you sure about this?" he said.

Rosa huffed. Rydia said, "Well, I sure hope so, because it's done! Yes, Sir Cecil, I'm sure."

Cecil blushed. Rydia had only ever called him Sir Cecil when first reacquainted as adults and unsure of mortal habits.

"She spent six months with him in the Feymarch," Rosa said. "That's plenty long enough."

"The Eidolons all like him," Rydia said.

"I . . . " Cecil said. "I don't mean about the Eidolons. Eblan has assassins, Rydia. Eblan is assassins."

"That's a negative stereotype, but yes. It is. But I'm not worried about them," Rydia says. "Or the old judgy Judys at court."

"Who knows?" Rosa said. This was what Cecil really wanted to know but couldn't assemble the words for.

"The Lord and Lady of the Feymarch, Edge's personal guard, and his seneschal. And now you two. For now."

"Oh, so we are still important to you," Cecil said.

Rydia and Rosa stared at him.

Cecil clapped his hand over his mouth.

"I didn't mean that," he said. "I didn't mean that. Rydia, I'm sorry, I don't know why I think I have the right-"

"Cecil," Rosa said, and having known Rosa for most of his life and been married to her for five years now, he heard the danger. "Are you jealous?"

Damn women and their damn intuition understanding him before he understood himself.

"No!" he said. "I'm not jealous."

Rydia muttered something under her breath. Unless Cecil's ears were also as muddled as his thoughts were, it very much sounded like, "And there he goes again with the guilt spiral."

"Cecil." The Queen of Baron crossed her arms. "You're upset she didn't tell you they were getting married when they were in the Feymarch," Rosa said.

"No, that's ridiculous! I wouldn't be so petty," he said, and hoped, oh how he hoped, that the political skills he gained as King were going to one day give him the ability to lie.

But not to Rosa. Never Rosa. Just because he wanted to avoid the consequences of his own stupidity right now didn't mean he thought it was a good idea to lie to his wife. She looked in his eyes. "You are," she said.

"That's absurd," Cecil said. I thought I stopped digging my own holes a long time ago. "I - I really don't know where I get the idea I can keep doing this to you, Rydia, but I am so sorry-"

"Keep doing what?" Rydia said.

Rosa stared him down too and Cecil felt almost nauseous.

"Keep doing what, exactly?" Rydia said.

"I - I -"

Rosa saw what he meant, saw him floundering, and finally gave blessed, stinging mercy. She uncrossed her arms and spoke quietly. "We're not your family."

"No," Cecil said. "We're not. I'm sorry."

Rydia looked between both of them, and no matter how hard Cecil told himself she was an adult - she was more than an adult, she had often walked the road between the sands of time and come out closer to Edge's age than Cecil's own -

- he still just saw a little girl peeking out from beneath the covers in Kaipo while he wiped his blade clean of his countrymen's blood.

"You're not?" Rydia said.

Cecil grew even more confused.

"So do you not want to be?" Rydia said.

Cecil and Rosa shared glances. "Huh?" Rosa said.

Rydia said, "I don't know a lot of people personally on the surface still. People that can come to a royal wedding. The Eidolons and my summoner students can't. Isn't it important for someone to give the bride away?"

"I'm confused," Cecil said.

"I am too," Rosa said.

"Oh. We're going to have another wedding," Rydia said. "I got scared and skipped ahead. Sorry. Do you . . . Do you not want to walk me down the aisle?" She tilted her head at Cecil. "It's more of a surface thing, Lord Leviathan already gave his blessing anyway. I thought it wouldn't matter to me but in the Eblan weddings I've been to - oh, oh no, oh Cecil don't cry," Rydia said.

Cecil reared back and touched his face. He was crying? Why had he started crying?

He blinked and was hugging Rydia. He blinked again and was sitting down in the chair sagging like a bag of potatoes. The weird noises coming from his mouth and nose were indecorous for a king of a sovereign nation to make, but wasn't he already among company that didn't care?

"Oh," he heard Rosa saying. "Another wedding. Oh, that makes sense."

"For the benefit of Eblan and everyone else," Rydia said. "Because it really is always about politics, isn't it? He's marrying the Summoners and I'm marrying Eblan."

"Politics," Rosa said. "Sometimes I think Kain had the right idea . . . "

"Is - is he alright?" Rydia said, eyeing Cecil.

"I think he will be, yes," Rosa said, and she squeezed her hand. Cecil realized it was wrapped in his. He squeezed back. "I've . . . never seen him like this, though," Rosa said.

"Cecil, sometimes I can't tell what's going on in your head," Rydia said.

"Oh that's alright," he said, sounding like he had a head cold. "Makes two of us."

"So . . . can you do it?" Rydia said. "Walk me down the aisle?"

Cecil burst into tears again.

"That's happy crying," Rosa said. "Yes. Yes, he will, or I will throw him in the dungeon myself."

"I'm glad I have you to translate," Rydia said.

"Well I - I really don't know what's happening. Cecil, honey, breathe-"

Rydia started giggling. "Oh, no, I've broken him again."

[indighostoast]

Originally posted this on ao3 but I thought it would be fun to post it on tumblr too lol

anyways hello ava/avm tumblr, i don't post a lot but I might try more in the future

[starmocha]

duuude mc making him delirious. next day at the hospital he's stillbworked up. mc sends him a text, it's her day off. he's loving, asks her how she's doing. she sends a 'fine 🥰' and he notices she's typying for a while, he's already holding his breath when she sends 'I can still feel you everywhere' with a pretty picture of her lower body, his shirt pulled up, her hand on top of her pink cotton panties. 'especially here' is the fatal blow that makes zayne think of an emergency and head home.

....oops........ 😔👉👈

Afternoon Lessons

Zayne asks Greyson to take over. No reasoning, no explanation, nothing. Greyson finds it odd that Zayne seems to be in a rush to leave, but seeing as the young surgeon has always been a workaholic dedicated to his job, Greyson dismisses this peculiarity, assuming there must be something urgent to make Zayne leave the hospital on short notice.

There is an urgent matter.

Zayne's minx of a wife has decided to play with fire this afternoon, so it's time she learns her lesson about teasing her husband like that when he is at work.

The moment Zayne arrives home, he comes into the living room, seeing his darling wife lounging on the couch in just her little pink cotton panties and his shirt, half-unbuttoned, and her breasts on display as she poses for some risqué selfies.

His phone buzzes.

She freezes.

Zayne opens the text message he has just received and smirks.

"My love, what was your intention for sending me these lovely photos of yourself?"

Slowly, she turns around on the couch to face him as he walks to her. She feels butterflies in her belly when she notices that hint of arousal in his gaze. Right when he sits down on the couch, she yelps in surprise, not expecting him to grab her suddenly and lay her over his lap, his hand has already pulled her panties down enough to expose her ass. Instantly, his large, calloused hand made contact, the slap has her crying out in both surprise and pleasure.

"Has my good girl decided to be naughty today?" he leans over to whisper in her ear, unknowingly making her stomach coil at how deliciously sensual his voice sounds in this moment. His lips find her neck as he continues in a lazy murmur, "That won't do...she could get me in trouble at work."

"Za-Zayne!" she cries out his name when he slaps her ass again, the sting hurting so good, she could feel a dampness between her legs.

Zayne smirks again, his lips on her shoulder. "One spank for every photo you have sent today."

She gasps, nervously trembling at his stern words.

She had sent him thirteen photos total.

[lovelyllamasblog]

Puddle

For @loojii and her OC Saskia. Crossposted on AO3.

Floyd hated supply runs. They were so boring and pointless. Not if you were Azul of course.

“But why do I have to go??” Floyd whined. “Get one of the anemones to do it!”

“Because, Floyd,” Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses in the process. “All of the available contractors are busy helping in the Lounge. Some have called out sick or are studying for tests. And yes, I checked Floyd. Don’t pout at me!”

Floyd puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. “Why can’t Jade do it? Or get Shrimpy to do it.”

Jade chuckled, clearly enjoying this little scene in front of him. “Because I am helping Azul with the books. And we did ask Yuu, but they were busy helping Heartslabyul with preparing for an upcoming Unbirthday Party. Apparently Riddle has invited a little friend, or so I’ve heard.”

Floyd continued to pout. Jade smiled and continued, “Or I could do the supply run and you could help Azul with the books.” He offered with a smile.

Floyd’s face immediately twisted into one of disgust. “No way.”

“Then you can do the supply run,” Azul said. “Since you are currently not busy at the moment.” Azul gestured to the pile of papers on his desk with his hand. Jade held out the shopping list to him with a smile.

Floyd scowled before ripping the list out his brother’s hand and stomping out of Azul’s office. The other two watched him leave before turning back to the desk.

“Do you think he’ll get everything on the list?” Jade asked with a smile.

Azul sighed. “Who knows? He’s one of his moods after all. Now, hand me the quarterly statement for the lounge. I want to finish that before we continue reviewing the dorm’s budget. I would like to finish it before the next meeting.”

Jade smiled. “Of course.” And began shifting through the paperwork.

Floyd continued to scowl as he made his way into town.

Stupid Jade. Stupid Azul. Stupid anemones. Stupid Shrimpy. Stupid supply run.

He angrily kicked a nearby trashcan before stopping in front of a store and glaring at the sign.

Sage Island Grocer. Family owned since 1800.

Floyd scowled up at the sign. Stupid grocery store. He pushed the glass doors open with a ding coming from the little bell at the top of it. The inside of the store wasn’t too different from any grocery store. The dim lights overhead hummed softly while cheesy music played. Aisles of food and other products lined up in perfect rows filled with customers shopping and staff restocking shelves from one end to the other.

Floyd grabbed a cart and began to walk down the aisles, throwing whatever he could get his hands on into it. He got a few odd looks from other shoppers and a few staff, but the scowl on his face stopped anyone from approaching him.

Finally, he was satisfied with what he had collected and moved to the front of the store. He got into one of the lines and began fiddling with his phone while he waited. He heard the person in front of him exchanging pleasantries with the cashier and the beep of the scanner. After a while, the cashier pushed a few buttons on the register and told the customer the amount. The customer paid, put the bags in their cart, and began rolling away.

“Thank you. Have a nice day,” the cashier said. “Next please.”

Floyd pushed his cart forward and began putting stuff on the conveyor belt. The cashier grabbed the first item and scanned it. Floyd stood there while they, she he noticed, continued scanning. He looked at her name tag. 

‘Saskia’

“That’s an interesting name,” he commented. The cashier looked up at him, her face largely unchanged.

“Thank you,” she said. “It was my great-grandmother’s.” And went back to scanning his items.

Floyd studied her. Her face was rather plain, with pale skin, mousy brown hair tied back into a low ponytail and matching eyes. She wore the standard store uniform, a white polo with blue strips, black pants and shoes, and a green apron with the store logo on it.

“Your total $257.25, sir,” she said after a while. Floyd snapped out the trance he was in and dug around in his pocket before pulling out a Monstro Lounge card and handing it to her.

“Could you send the bill here, or whatever?” he asked.

She gently took it out of his hand and looked at it. “One moment please.” And picked up a nearby phone, punched in a few numbers, and waited quietly for someone to pick up. “Yes, it’s Saskia at register seven. I have a card here for the Monstro Lounge.” A few beats of silence. “Alright. Thank you.” And hung up.

“My manager will take care of that,” she said. “Is there anything else I can help you with today sir?”

Floyd looked at her for a minute before smiling. “I think I’m gonna call you Puddle.”

She blinked up at him a few times before turning back to the register. She punched a few buttons and handed him a copy of the receipt.

“Have a nice day sir,” she said. 

Floyd couldn’t help but smile back. “You too Puddle.” He then took the cart and headed out of the store, feeling much better than when he had come in.

Saskia, or Puddle, watched him leave before turning back to the next customer. “Next please.”

“Floyd is acting strange,” Azul said. Jade looked up from the paper he was writing on and looked up at Azul.

Back at Night Raven College, Azul reamed Floyd for getting unnecessary items and wasting the Lounge’s budget.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked

Azul scoffed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed? Floyd is offering to do supply runs. Offering! Have you ever heard of him offering to do something?”

Jade looked thoughtful for a moment. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think I ever had. How odd, even for him.”

Azul stood up and slapped his desk. “Exactly! It could only mean that Floyd is slacking off or-”

“Or something has gotten his attention,” Jade finished for him. Azul nodded. 

The two looked at each before the taller one stood up. “Do you want to investigate?” Jade asked.

“Of course! I need to figure out why Floyd is wasting the Lounge’s budget on unnecessary items! He bought a scented candle last time! A scented candle! And the scent wasn’t even pleasant!”

Jade chuckled. “Maybe to you, but one of the dorm members liked it well enough.”

Azul scoffed. “I will never understand why humans are so obsessed with everything smelling good.”

Jade just chuckled. “Well then, shall we?” he asked, opening the office door. Azul straightened his tie and walked out.

“Yes, we shall.”

Azul and Jade found Floyd in the twin’s dorm room, fiddling around on his phone. He looked up at them when the door opened.

“Oh hey there. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Azul asked. “What’s up? What’s up is that you are going on supply runs and getting unnecessary items! Therefore wasting the Lounge’s budget!”

Floyd blinked up at him. “So?”

Azul looked like he was about to have an aneurysm when Jade stepped in.

“Floyd, I’m sure you know how seriously Azul takes the Lounge. We just don’t have to cut back on anyone’s pay check or stop plans for the Lounge due to bad spending.”

Floyd looked at his brother and Azul for a minute before getting off his bed. “Ok, you two can come with me.”

Azul blinked. “Where?” He asked cautiously. Floyd just smiled.

“Isn’t this the local grocery store?” Jade asked when they arrived at their destination.

“On a supply run of course.” Azul and Jade exchanged glances before nodding, following Floyd out of the room.

Floyd continued to smile. “Yep.”

Azul adjusted his glasses. “I sincerely hope you are being serious right now.”

Floyd looked offended. “Of course I am. When am I not?” Azul and Jade just exchanged more looks and turned back to Floyd.

“Well then Floyd,” Jade gestured to the store. “Lead the way.”

They didn’t go very far, as Floyd immediately beelined for one of the registers.

“Heeey Puddle~ Did you miss me?” 

Azul looked scandalized. “P-puddle?” he asked.

The girl, Puddle, looked up at him. “Welcome back sir.” Her face was largely unreadable and her voice was monotone.

“Hey Puddle, this is my brother I was telling you about. And Azul.” he said, gesturing to the two of them.

Puddle looked at them and nodded. “I’m Saskia.”

Jade looked between the two and smiled. “Ah, this makes sense.”

Azul looked at him. “Explain.” Jade just chuckled.

“It’s simple. Floyd is drawn to extremes, yes? If someone’s lively, he wants to drag them down. If they’re strong, he wants to break them. But when someone is completely neutral, like Miss Saskia, he finds it endlessly fascinating.”

Azul looked shocked for a moment before speaking. “You mean to tell me… he’s obsessed with her because she’s boring?!”

Jade smirked. “Maybe to you and others, but to Floyd, she is an endless source of entertainment. Someone who is none of the things I mentioned before and is just simply living day to day is interesting to him.”

Azul turned back to where Floyd was with Saskia. Floyd seemed to be carrying a one way conversation with her as she continued with her job, scanning items and bagging them, nodding along with whatever he was saying. The customer she was with seemed uneasy but didn’t say anything.

Azul just shook his head and straightened his tie. “Well, we’re here. May as well thank the store owner for being a loyal partner to the Monstro Lounge these last two years.” He turned to the closest employee and handed them his business card.

“Of course,” Jade said, and followed Azul and the employee to the back of the store, leaving Floyd and Saskia behind. If Floyd ever noticed, he didn’t say.

“Bye Puddle~ I’ll be back soon!” he called as Jade dragged him out when they were done.

Saskia didn’t say anything, but did wave as they left.

[eternal-pie]

Stupid Pt.1

Shinso x reader

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 (Your POV )

——————

Shinso was frustrated

People didn't trust him, from the moment he developed his power, Shinso's every interaction was tainted by suspicion. As he grew up he began to learn to understand where this discomfort came from, it was mostly self preservation. This social divide was not the source of Shinso’s frustration.

You were.

Initaly shinso’s frustration with you came from the fact that you seemed to have none of the self preservation that every other person around him had, to put it bluntly, in the beginning he thought you were stupid.

To be fair he thought all the people who tried to trust him were stupid, no matter their reasoning be it pity, naivety or a desire to feel morally superior. Shinso was always quick to shut those people down. Any and all who tried to make a statement in befriending him were quick to regret it the moment they lost control of their body’s, more often than not he didn’t even make them do anything, a few seconds of vulnerability being enough to snuff out their false bravado.

With most people the moment he let their minds slip from his control they were gone, there had been a select few who attempted to maintain face. Poorly mind you, their discomfort and desire to get as far from him as possible was very apparent, even at a glance.

Shinso found a satisfaction in it, he wasn’t some passion project to make people feel good about themselves, though if he's being entirely honest, his immediate rejection of attempts at connection is probably a defense mechanism, but trauma makes good heros, so far as he had seen. So hitoshi was content in keeping this habit.

So you can imagine the confusion and annoyance shiso felt when you seemed to immediately perk right back up after experiencing his quirk, assaulting him with a myriad of questions about the limitations and qualities of his ability.

Hitoshi’s first impression was that, if the people who chose to trust him once were foolish. You were fucking brain dead.

By the time he had come to learn you were actually a fairly well off student he had already developed a sense of responsibility for your safety. If you were content with letting a whole ass stranger brainwash you, who knows what else you were cool with.

Over all you had a decent head on your shoulders, though you were lacking in teh ways of self preservation when it came to meeting others, seeming to Believe that every person attending a hero school couldn’t be all that bad.

Your naivety, a trait that Hitoshi usually found annoying, became the reason the two of you continued to hangout. Somewhere along teh way shinso found that he had grown fond of you.

Shinso’s biggest source of frustration would begin, ona Sunday evening, as he hung out with you in your dorm.

Most days you were fairly receptive to his help, that day wasnt one of those days. Finals were aproching and you had been craming for most of the week, with a big test tommorrow you were pushing yourself the hardest that day. Hitoshi had picked up far heathier studying habbits and was content just doing a generel reveiw, you were not. Knowing and haveing memorized everything you could resonably need to know didn’t seem to ease your anxiety.

He put his foot down when he realized you hadn’t eaten or slept properly in a couple days. You unfortunately were less then pleased with his desition.

Shinso grew tired of your defiance.

He liked to think he had a relatively good handle on his temper, but his pacience was already tightroping on a very thin line. Having gone back and forth with you for a while, you gave a final rebutal as you turned back to your paper covered desk.

“Even though you could, we both know you won't make me.”

Pacience snaped, shinso enveloped you in his control. He could feel your mind wriggle and fight against his control but he held firm.

“sit on your bed.” he spoke firmly, reaching to grab the bowl of now luke warm soup he had brought up for you, before moving to sit next to you.

“now you are gonna eat.” you put out your hands for teh soup and spoon. Hitoshi liked to think he knew you pretty well and he was danm sure that if he allowed you to feed your self even in this state you would attempt and possobly sucssed in dumping the soup out of spite.

That wouldn't be diffucult to work around. Insted of handing you the bowl, he instead filled the spoon and raised it to your lips himself.

“open your mouth.” your struggle had mostly stopped at this point, seeming resined to your fate. Once he placed the spoon on your tounge you instictuly closed your mouth around it.

“now swallow it all.” you did so without no resistace this time. With you now semmingly willing to cooperate he pulled the spoon from you mouth before releasing his hold on your mind.

“Now that I’ve made my point will you eat?” You nodded your head softly, and without another word of complaint you began to eat. You didn’t seem upset, you didn’t kick him out of your dorm or reprimand him.

Still your silence throughout the rest of his time with you bothered him. Even after he left for the night it ate at him.

had he gone to far? Hitoshi was loath to admit he had begun to enjoy your company. He found that he was devastated at the prospect of losing you, he was stupid for believing you could truly be comfortable with the level of control he could exert over you.

Shinso was almost scared to face you, an immense guilt had hollowed out his chest through the night, he had barely slept.

Instead Hitoshi found that what was going to be your “final confrontation” was nothing more than how you always greeted him, with a bright smile and a cheery call of his name.

Shinso couldn't have known that on that fateful night your dynamic had changed.

That somehow, some way.

His actions alone had changed something in you.

Awaked something in you.

A brat.

————

Part 2 in the works

Might be nsfw but I haven’t decided yet

————

[catlantern]

Kissing Santa Claus

JASON TODD/FEM!READER

SUMMARY: The Santa Claus in question was handsome as ever; he had foregone the fake belly but kept the beard. Why did you suddenly have the urge to cut in line and sit on his lap?

'Tis the season.

If you hear this phrase one more time, you might just blow your stack. Being surrounded by kids at the moment, you kept your cool. The last thing you needed was to be bombarded by disappointed nuns on Christmas Day.

Of course, you wouldn't be nearing the end of your patience if Santa Claus had just shown up at the event.

The Christmas party organized by the Wayne Foundation for the orphaned children of Gotham was supposed to be your present for the city you grew up in. Since you were tasked by Bruce to oversee the event, you had hoped everything would go smoothly, seeing as, in true Bat-vigilante fashion, you prepared contingencies (and contingencies for those contingencies) in case anything went south.

What you didn't account for (really, it should have been the first thing you made a contingency plan for) was the man you hired to dress up as jolly old Saint Nick not showing up. Now, for the past hour and a half, you've been stuck to your phone trying to find someone willing to put on the snow-white beard and red suit. If you still can't find someone in the next five minutes, you'll don the Santa suit yourself, you resolved. You just hope the kids won't be disappointed. The last thing you want is to ruin a lot of children's Christmases by being a subpar Santa.

After getting off the phone with Roy Harper (yes, you were desperate enough to call even your vigilante colleague), you sighed in defeat. With all the actual Santas already booked, there was no one left in the city you could hire. You were debating whether it was worth it to break Waylon Jones out of Arkham Asylum, knowing that the man has always had a soft spot for you and would do anything you ask, when Roy called again.

"Tell me something good, Harper," was your way of greeting. "I'm begging you."

"You do know that sounded like an innuendo, right?" He answered after clearing his throat.

"Yeah, well," you look around to make sure there aren't any nuns nearby. "I'll probably need a way to let out my frustration if I don't find a Santa Claus soon."

"Right."

"Anyway, at this rate, I might as well use the suit myself and hope for the best."

"While I'm sure you'd rock in a Santa suit, don't do that yet," you've never heard Roy sound so excited. "I found someone willing to help you."

Please, not him, you thought.

"I would do it myself if I weren't in another city right now," Roy continued, unaware of your growing despair. "And well, Jaybird is in Gotham."

"No."

Have you been a naughty kid this year? Is that why you're being punished? Or is it simply the universe messing with you by using your ex, Jason Todd, in your time of need?

"No," you repeated. "Anyone but him, Roy."

"Come on, it's been a year since..."

"I said no."

"He's willing."

"Harper."

"And you're out of options."

You choked on this. Of course, it was so in line with Roy's personality to use this opportunity to make you and Jason talk again. With you desperate and Jason being a softie for children in need, you almost believed Roy had done something to the man you originally hired. Wait a damn minute…

He didn't.

"ROY HARPER!"

"Okay, gotta go," Roy says hurriedly. "Jaybird will be there in ten."

Before you could berate the red-haired man any further, the line went dead. If you hadn't been surrounded by nuns and children, you would've been cursing to the high heavens right about now. Leave it to Roy Harper to pull a stunt like this.

The next ten minutes were probably the most anxiety-ridden minutes of your life, and that was saying something. You've faced off against the likes of Scarecrow and Poison Ivy, yet the knowledge that you're about to see your ex-boyfriend again after a year of not seeing or talking with him was more terrifying than fighting the Gotham rogues. Then again, you wouldn't be so worried if the break-up had been amicable.

It wasn't.

You both have said things you can't take back. You've burned that bridge to ashes and built walls around yourselves, allowing the chasm between you to grow ever larger. Regret has since been a permanent fixture whenever you think about Jason Peter Todd.

So, it was really no surprise when, upon seeing Jason at the entrance of the community centre where the event is being held, you couldn't help but blame yourself for losing the most beautiful connection you've ever had.

The first time Jason met you, you were twelve and thirteen respectively. He had just been picked up by Batman after getting caught stealing the tires of the Batmobile, while you were already training to be the next Batgirl. Your family back then were neighbors with the Gordons, and, as though it was fate, you happened to be the biggest Batgirl fan on the planet.

Jason thought you were annoying at first, a know-it-all whose favorite pastime was to criticize his every move. It didn't help that he found your sharp mind intimidating and that he had noticed how extraordinarily pretty you are, even when your face was obscured by a cowl. Okay, maybe he was in denial about his feelings for you (a massive crush at the time), but not anymore.

So, imagine the utter betrayal he felt when you accused him of cheating on you.

It happened a year ago, and Jason, who hadn't seen you in months after traveling in space with the Outlaws, was looking forward to spending time with you again. Only, when he got home, all your things had been cleared out. When he finally tracked you down, you had been staying with Barbara, you turned him away, accused him of being a cheater, and, well, he lost his temper and yelled at you.

Barbara kicked him out after he had reduced you to tears.

You haven't seen each other since.

He knew you had been avoiding him since your break-up and, like the fool he was, allowed you to widen that distance.

He managed to convince himself that it was for the best, that he would have just dragged you down to the farthest depths of hell if he had stayed with you. It took his best friend and youngest brother literally knocking some sense into Jason for him to realize that you were the best thing to ever happen in his life and he was an imbecile for letting you leave. He thought about Damian and how he owed the teenage boy so much for watching your back while on patrol, not that you needed protecting.

So, after much convincing from Roy and Damian (Jason shuddered at the thought of them teaming up) that he wasn't anything like Willis Todd, he allowed himself to be persuaded into helping you out. He suspected the two had done something to the man you originally hired to dress up as Santa Claus, but didn't care enough to check that they hadn't roughed him up. How can he care about anything else when you're now standing a mere few feet away from him.

"Come on," you muttered to him, foregoing any greeting and shattering the nice reunion he thought you two would share. "You have five minutes to change, then it's show time."

"Show time?"

You frowned up at him, mentally cursing his height. "Do you know what kids want from Santa, Jason?"

He noticed there was a certain edge to your tone, as though you'd rather be doing anything else than talking to him. "Uh, presents?"

"Yes, presents," you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. "And what else do they want?"

"Uh…"

You were scowling now. "They want to sit on Santa's lap and lie through their teeth about how they've been such wonderful kids this year and therefore deserve presents!"

You gestured over to the raised platform in the middle of the room, where a cushioned throne-like chair stood, your eye twitching in anger. "So, if you're not over there in five minutes, I'll have to tell a hundred children that they're not getting gifts this year because Red Hood and friends kidnapped Santa Claus!"

He watched you storm off, an invisible force clenching his heart painfully. You've always had a short temper, he knew that, but not once had you directed your anger like that at him. He was now excruciatingly aware of how much he had messed up with you and wished he had just explained himself properly before, instead of blowing up at you.

As he changed into the Santa suit that a nun had kindly handed to him, he realized then that he had never even told you the truth.

He is an imbecile, indeed.

You stood off to the side, trying your best to keep the scowl off your face as children lined up to tell their wishes to Santa Claus. The Santa Claus in question was handsome as ever; he had foregone the fake belly but kept the beard. Why did you suddenly have the urge to cut in line and sit on his lap?

You cursed yourself for thinking that way about your ex, who looked quite attractive in that Santa suit (red really is his color). The only thing holding you back from acting on your thoughts was the presence of the nuns and children surrounding you and the humiliation you felt for snapping at Jason. Months of pent-up anger and hurt finally caught up to you when you saw Jason; your only wish was that you had handled it better.

Regardless of where you stood with Jason, you were glad he was putting smiles on children's faces. You had never seen him look so proud and satisfied when a child left with the biggest smile on their face. He really looked like he was enjoying himself, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had perhaps already found someone new.

The mere thought of Jason moving on broke your heart. You found yourself slinking away to hide out in the makeshift kitchen, unable to bear looking at the love of your life anymore. Thankfully, none of the staff who assisted you in organizing the event was present, no doubt on their break after feeding all the children.

You didn't know how long you sat there, on the dirty kitchen floor. It could have been hours or mere minutes. The next time you looked up from your feet to check the time on the wall clock, your line of sight was obstructed by Santa Claus.

You sighed in defeat at the sight of Jason Todd, still in his Santa suit but without the white beard. The urge to run away and avoid the conversation you're about to have was strong, but you stayed. Your love for him was even stronger.

"Hey," he spoke first, having always been braver than you. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"It's comfortable," you shrugged. "You should join me."

Despite the skeptical look he sent you, he sat on the floor next to you.

It was quiet for a minute, then the muffled sound of children's laughter filled the air.

"You know I'd never cheat on you, right?" he asked.

"I know," you said solemnly. "I should have trusted you. I just..."

You sigh. "I never told you this, but looking back, I should have. I have always felt inadequate next to you."

It was the truth. Ever since you were both kids, you have always struggled to keep up with Jason. Just like his brother and predecessor, Jason had an innate talent for crime-fighting, while you and Babs had to work harder just to be acknowledged by Batman.

You always were jealous of him. When he died and came back, and you got into a relationship, you thought that it would be the end of your insecurities. But they didn't. Being with Jason only showed you how he could have someone better, and soon, you began to think he must have felt the same, when it was the opposite.

Jason scoffed, surprising you with his next words. "What? You don't think I've never thought the same? Never felt useless when Bruce paired us up when we were kids? Or that you could have found someone better than my pathetic self?"

"You're not pathetic, Jason."

"Then you're not inadequate either."

"Jason…"

"I still love you, alright?" He stopped you before you could say anything else. "And it's okay if you've moved on, I just wanted to let you know–"

You finally gave in to your urge to kiss the man you have fallen in love with, proving yourself to be only human. Your lips against his, you savoured the connection and hoped with all your heart it was not too late to salvage what you had with Jason. If it was, then you wished that the universe would at least give you the chance to start anew, for there was no one else in the world you would ever be with but Jason.

Faintly, you heard a gasp followed by a youthful voice. "Sister, I found Santa! He's kissing the kind lady!"

At that moment, you no longer cared about being caught kissing Santa Claus because nothing else seemed to matter; you had finally found a reason to celebrate the Christmas holidays again.

BONUS:

"Well, looks like Santa was naughty last night," an infuriating voice cackled the morning after your reconciliation with Jason. "And you must have been really extra good this year."

"Get out, Harper," you growled, not bothering to lift your head off your pillow which happened to Jason's naked chest. "Before I decide to deck your balls."

"You better listen to my girlfriend, Roy. Lian will never have a sibling again," chuckled Jason. "Not on her father's side, at least."

The red-haired archer grumbled, not doubting that you would follow through with your threat if he didn't leave in the next ten seconds. "I deserve a thank you, at least."

When he was met with silence, he sighed. "Fine, I'm leaving. By the way, the guy you hired is fine. Damian just paid him money not to show up at the Christmas party. He's in the Bahamas with his girlfriend now, I think."

"OUT, HARPER!"

"Alright, jeez! Merry Christmas, losers!"

[lakes-writting-rambles]

Out Of Choice, But Not Out Of Reach - #1 Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things

words:2889

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Sometimes your destiny is completely out of your hands – Danny Fenton couldn’t seem to find a way to avoid learning that lesson. First; when he was shot when Slade invaded the headquarters of the League, and subsequently his family, was using, while the fight between Slade and Grandfather was going on, he used the chaos to get to the Lazarus Pit before he bled out; a second time when he died in that godforsaken portal; the most prevalent one was definitely his first meeting with Clockwork, there he noticed that it doesn’t matter how hard you try, if it isn’t meant to be, someone will interfere. It doesn’t mean he won’t still do things as before, but now there’s forever the dread of knowing.

It’s been about a year since what he, Jazz, Sam and Tucker dubbed “The Dan Incident”, and Danny can't seem to stop thinking about it. Well, not really about Dan, no, but about Damian. He can’t stop thinking about how Dan likely ended up killing Damian – it’d be inevitable, and, considering the state the future he had been shown was in, he hoped Damian went early on, really, he also hoped it was quick, like he tried to do when he was in the League.

What really bothered Danny, though, was that he couldn’t help but wonder if staying with the Fentons even was a good idea at this point. Surely he has learned that misfortune would follow him anywhere he went, so why wait for the shoe to drop? Before the accident, he was relatively safe to live the rest of his life in Amity, sure, it was kind of a deadend, but it was tranquil, so he couldn’t really complain. Now, though? He was in constant danger inside and outside his house, being half dead meant no place with the living and no place with the dead. He should leave while he still can.

The League isn’t likely to spot him, considering it’s been years since his “death” and he probably looks different enough from Damian now… which is something he’ll have to think about later. And the threats of dissection (vivisection?) by his parents keep increasing – he doesn’t want to fuck around and find out.

So, the League is probably not an issue anymore, staying seems to get more dangerous each day and he’s pretty sure most ghosts only come to Amity to fight him.

Nevertheless, running away also came with a plethora of problems, for one: leaving Jazz and his friends. When he got adopted into the Fenton household he tried not to get attached to anyone. He couldn’t keep that up for long, as a touch starved 9 year old that came from a violent background and got thrown into a very loving family. First, he got attached to his parents, then Jazz, Tucker, and finally, Sam. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, but it might make this choice hard to make – since the easiest way to run away would be to fake his death and forgo any contact with everyone from his old life. Maybe they’d know he wasn’t (fully) dead, maybe they’d just be extremely miserable, he wouldn't know. 

Another issue is that he’s the current Ghost King, and oh boy doesn’t that complicate things? He keeps getting more powerful, which means keeping his cover is getting harder – an unsettling and overpowering aura surrounds him now, and sure, it reacts to other people’s emotions as well as his own, which in theory should make it easier to hide, since everyone in Amity seems to have differing opinions on his two  personas, but the fact that his aura is big enough that others take notice is concerning enough on its own; he’s control over his abilities needs to be impeccable or he risks getting found out; and he’s pretty sure some of his more ghostly traits are beginning to bleed over into his human form. He also needs stable access to a portal, since he needs to take at least two trips per month to the Ghost Zone so he can check over things with Clockwork and parade around to remind the citizens of the realm that he is their king; he can’t officially take over since he’s still alive, once he’s entirely dead he will, but for now the observants act as regents and that’s more than fine by him.

And third: he’s not really sure where he should go. You’d think Gotham would be his first option because of his father, but he has too much media presence, so Danny’d be brought to the spotlight. Does anyone in Amity care about Gotham? Not that he knows of. But it’d still be too big of a risk. Plus, Tucker really wants to work in Wayne Enterprises in the future, he’s sure that it’d become a problem in no time.

So… what to do? Money isn’t a problem, since he has access to all the treasure hoarded by Pariah Dark over the centuries, but that’s not all he has to consider. He needs some sort of safety net, that much is obvious, and since he won’t be able to count on his regular support system, he should fall back on his blood.

Maybe he could go to Blüdhaven? It’s close enough to Gotham that he can go there if he somehow needs to come into contact with someone from his biological family but not enough that he’d be immediately clocked… but then there’s Nightwing… as long as he doesn’t get  into any trouble it should be fine, right? It’s not like there’s a city without a hero nowadays… Urgh, nevermind, he’ll come back to these thoughts later, he’d rather not spend his rare moment of peace coming up with what to do after he fakes his death.

Sometimes fate decides that things should be ultimately out of your hands – but Damian Al Ghul Wayne fights with all his might to avoid such a thing becoming a rule in his life. When he came to live with his father, around 7 years ago, he held out hope that his twin had made it and would eventually return to his side. That never happened. And now Damian isn’t sure how to approach the topic of Danyal with his family, so he just… doesn’t. Even after all this time, it feels wrong to keep the memory of Danyal to himself, he should be celebrated, even if his death was premature and almost a decade has passed.

Danyal had died the same day as Grandfather, which is why his grief isn’t questioned –, even if the Bats are well aware of his distaste of his Grandfather’s actions, now that he’s recognized them for what they were. Damian isn’t sure if it’ll ever come to pass, because in quiet moments like this, he thinks of what could have been.

His twin was never needlessly violent, and his killings were virtually a mercy, compared to the others in the LoA, even himself. Maybe he would have adapted faster than Damian did, maybe he would have made a better Robin, maybe they would still wake up together and share little moments of quiet.

It’s all speculation, all it will ever be. They never found his body, but even now, years later, the image of his pierced chest is burned between the other twin’s eyes, it wasn’t likely to survive a wound like that, and even if he did, the bloodloss would’ve killed him regardless. But to a 9 year old, the what ifs often overshadow reality, which is why Damian had kept his hopes up, afterall, one of the many teachings of the League was that “if there isn’t a body then one should always consider the possibility of the victim having survived”. But now, at 16, he could see it for what it was, the foolishness of a child longing for what is gone – he’ll never admit it, but in the darkest, deepest and most hidden part of his heart, Damian still has a little bit of wonder, almost completely squashed, but a bit of hope of seeing his brother once again remains.

There’s no use for pondering at the moment, time doesn’t stop and soon one of his siblings will notice his absence at breakfast and come to pester him, thus he gets up and readies himself to face another hectic morning.

“If I were to go missing, where would you search for me first?” was not a question Tucker was ready for, like, at all, but especially at two in the afternoon on a saturday. Danny hadn’t been the same since that thing with Dan or whatever they had dubbed it, he didn’t change much, but he seemed to get lost in thought more frequently, and Tucker didn’t blame him! Really! But man, what went through his head was morbid at times, and he maybe shouldn’t voice those out of nowhere.

— Uhh I guess… your parent’s basement? — awkward silence fills the air, it’s the most obvious answer, but not a thing they normally consider outloud. A grimace crosses Danny’s face for a second.

— No, I mean, if I …ran away. — he says, and there’s some hesitancy. Obviously, there’s more to the question, but Tucker can’t for the life of him figure out what it could be.

— I’d guess Wisconsin, since it’s close by and you might be able to rely on Vlad if push comes to shove, but that is not likely at all, — Sam starts before coming to a slight pause to think. — Maybe Missouri?

— Why…?

— Cause it’s close by, it’s not like we’d let you get far before going after you. — she smirks and gives his arm a little punch.

—  I think we’d find Danny in Florida, actually, — Tucker chuckles before continuing — it’s the only place where he wouldn’t stand out.

— Oh, screw you. — He says before he lunges at Tucker.

Sam watches for a bit, the conversation got to her more than it did to Tucker. She decides that now isn’t the time to worry about it, she doesn’t think Danny would leave them behind without saying anything, not after all they’ve been through, but it did leave a sour taste in her mouth. To stop herself from spiraling down a rabbit hole, she jumps – literally jumps – into the struggle. 

That is how the three friends end up scratched all over, with dirt and grass stuck to their clothes and silly smiles on their faces, looking up at the sky as the clouds pass by. Moments like this used to be common, but with the chaos that is Amity Park nowadays a chance to just relax and joke around as friends seems more and more like a luxury.

Their peace is interrupted when Danny sighs, a defeated sigh that usually comes after his breath fogs – which means there is a ghost nearby. A shout ruptures the quiet and kills any hopes for the rest of their afternoon.

— BEWARE! I AM THE BOX GHOST!

— Alright, — he gets up and stretches. — Just wait for me, I’ll be back in a sec.

Sam and Tucker look at each other, worried glances on both ends – they didn’t even need to say anything. Things will never go back to the way they were before, that is something all three know intimately. Danny died. Everything they have witnessed is bound to leave some sort of mark as well. And there are the Fentons. Sam and Tucker knew Danny and Jazz loved their parents, but at this point it seemed inevitable that someday they’d turn on Danny, and it seems that even if he doesn’t talk about it, it’s also something he believes.

It feels unfair, Danny seemed to have come from a bad background and was settling into his own skin and fully letting his guard down for what felt like the first time before the accident. And wasn’t that heartbreaking? He’d adjusted to the life in Amity early on, but to actually enjoy himself? That took some 2-3 years, and to trust that he could always rely on the people around him? It had just started happening into the beginning of their ninth grade. Then the portal opened and he had to put some of those walls back up to protect himself, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Now, they’re in 11th grade, they should be looking for colleges and studying for entrance exams, but instead, Danny is thinking of running away.

They know how their friend thinks at this point, and it’s undeniable they’ll likely have to say goodbye soon.

Dealing with the Box Ghost wasn’t hard, but it sure was annoying. After the fight (if you could even call it that) ended he went back to Sam and Tuck, they laid on the grass for a while longer, ultimately, they got hungry and headed to the Nasty Burger and ate before parting ways.

Danny plops face first into his bed. Well… he could have approached that with more subtlety. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to get them to look for him, or something, to prepare them for his absence. That sounds too close to something Jazz would say…

He turns around, putting his arm on his forehead. His thoughts keep getting away from him, always back to Damian – would he have liked Amity Park? Probably not, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t even see himself liking it there when he arrived – in fact: He had hated it. The city was so calm it felt forced, the Fentons so loving it felt like a trap, the kids lacked any malice at all, everything screamed danger at him, like he was about to be ambushed. Nothing ever came to that, just a nice, cozy, little town. 

Well, until the portal opened, that is. 

He stops and just looks at his ceiling for a bit, the old glow in the dark stars already discolored and lacking any actual functionality, there was no reason for them to remain there but the attachment to what they used to be, kinda like him. There was no escaping his current reality. No escaping his need to desert this city, this family, this life. 

Danny sits up and looks around his room, which for the last few years had become his safe haven. He looks at the stained carpet, marked by his many sleepovers with Sam and Tuck, he looks at his ceiling fan, that was cracked from the time the trio had tried to recreate the solar system on it, he looks at his closet, his posters, his desk, everything that was proof of the life he had lived here.

He needs some water and something to eat before setting his plan up.

As he heads down the stairs to the first floor he hears his mother’s soft voice coming from the kitchen.

— Oh Jack, I’m so worried about Danny, — the phrase startles Danny, he turns invisible and intangible, floating a bit so as to not make any sound, — his ecto-contamination has only gotten worse over the years… how can we be sure he’s okay?

— Honey, I’m sure Danno is fine! He must be building up resistance!

— But what if… what if it’s fusing to him? What if there’s no reversing this? — His mom is chewing on her lower lip, clearly distressed. 

At the sight, his dad softens up and hugs her, his voice comforting as he speaks, — We’ll make sure he’s fine, Maddie. We might not know what happened, but we know each other and we know what we’re doing, we’re experts in our field. 

Danny can’t stay there anymore, they know he has ecto in his system and they know it’s getting worse. They know and they want to “fix” him. He’s completely and utterly fucked. 

Alongside his nervousness there is also newfound resolve. He quickly phases into his room, grabs his thermos, maybe two shirts and a pair of pants, he shoves it all inside an old backpack he hasn’t used in years. He will need to dispose of his phone, taking anything electronic with him will leave a trail and he can’t have that. Hopefully his parents don’t have his ecto signature yet, he doesn’t think he has the time to get rid of it if they do.

He checks the kitchen again, they aren’t there anymore, likely back in the lab, then. He has to leave through the front door, to not raise any suspicions. Now, how to make this realistic? Maybe he can fake being murdered? No, Amity doesn’t really have that type of violence. Maybe he can fake being a casualty in a ghost attack? But he’d have to damage public spaces to do so and he doesn’t want to endanger anyone else… Fake getting kidnapped? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, even as a human.

He could also just up and leave. It’s not like Amity has any actual investigative police force… Maybe he’s complicating things too much. He needs to go before he has time to chicken out. His parents will probably make a move on his ecto contamination within the week and he can’t be there for that.

— Bye mom, dad, be back in a bit! — and so, he shuts the door – leaving his house for what will probably be the last time.

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Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things > Those We Leave Behind

AO3

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @monstream theorizing that tommy will pop back up in a couple months and reveal he dipped out like his ass was on fire because he got a cancer diagnosis. (be advised: this is not about real cancer. this is tv cancer.) 1300 words.

a chance encounter

Bobby still has a blood donation appointment at First Presbyterian every two months, which he attends religiously, barring exemptions like the six months he had to skip after the heart attack. Years ago, when it started, Chimney arranged a rotation for rides, and as their team went through staffing changes, it settled to a more informal thing, whichever of them would be available verbally stepping up each time. Athena would have been the logical choice with one of the 118 as backup, but this is theirs. Buck likes it because usually he and Bobby stop for a meal and catch up, just the two of them.

On their way to the elevators, they hear applause in the next wing over, and Bobby gives Buck a little smile before they join the gathering at the back of the small crowd. He loves a bell ceremony.

A teen girl in a green hoodie that reaches her knees is blushing and stumbling over her words, flustered by the attention. "Anyway," she says, "I'm not gonna be sick at prom and I'm so effing excited." She rings the bell and pumps a fist in the air before hugging one of the nurses.

"All right," says a blonde woman holding a clipboard. "We have three more patients who completed treatment! I know, right? It's been a good week."

Buck looks down at the coffee he grabbed from the on-site cafe while Bobby was getting drained, which tastes different somehow but he can't put his finger on it. Soy milk, maybe? A sharp nudge forces him to look up into Bobby's suddenly tense expression.

"Well. So... yeah. These last few months have sucked."

Buck swings his head around and Bobby grabs the coffee out of his hand. There, acknowledging a round of polite laughter, is Tommy, dressed in a henley and flannel shirt, all in shades of blue. Buck always liked him in blue. He looks slimmer, more like the version of himself from Chim and Hen's old team photos. He's wearing a Raiders hat.

"I knew, as a firefighter who flew helicopters, that I probably didn't have the highest life expectancy. But this diagnosis still threw me for a loop."

Buck should not be here. He should not be here. But he can't convince his feet to move.

"I did some dumb things, isolated myself, assumed the worst. It was the staff here who kept--gently--smacking me upside the head, reminding me that there was still hope." Tommy ducks his head and when he looks up eyes are bright. "Thank God for them."

Buck feels like he is stuck in a column of rapidly curing cement. It started down at his feet and now his lungs won't inflate.

"Buck," Bobby hisses, tugging at his sleeve.

"Bug your city council rep to increase compensation for healthcare workers because there's no way they get paid enough to deal with my bullshit." A cluster of small children at the front of the group starts howling at the swear, and he grins, unrepentant. Buck might be drowning. "Thank you, everyone. Fuck cancer." He rings the bell and steps back quickly for the next patient, accepting good-natured pummeling from several members of the staff as everyone applauds.

The smile that settled on Tommy's face vanishes as their eyes meet. The column of cement also vanishes. Breathing hard, his pulse hammering in his ears, Buck follows Bobby down the hall to the elevators.

"Buck?"

It still sounds so wrong coming from him. Buck flinches and looks at the slowly progressing display of which floor the elevator is on. Stairs it is. "I'll meet you down there," he says to Bobby, and doesn't wait for a response.

Buck plows through the door to the stairwell, moving as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Please? I can follow for a little bit, but fourteen flights of stairs is beyond me at the moment."

Buck slows his progress down, stopping at the next landing.

"What-" Tommy takes the stairs slowly, one by one. "What are you doing here? How did you find out?"

Buck glances up. "I didn't. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. This place is our home away from home, you know?"

"Oh," Tommy says, then has the nerve to look concerned. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm not fucking okay. Did you know you were sick?"

"When?" he temporizes. "I mean, they did tell me at one point."

"You know when," Buck says, seething, his vision growing redder when Tommy doesn't answer. "I asked you to move in with me." I was all in. You didn't have to do this alone.

Tommy finishes the last few steps and joins him on the landing. "You asked your gym rat firefighter boyfriend to move in with you. Not an unemployed puke machine with a thirty-nine percent chance of kicking it in the next five years."

"Oh my God." Buck laughs, wanting to scream at the wall. "So I'm not a newborn bisexual who couldn't possibly know what I want, I'm just a piece of shit who would drop a partner for getting sick. Or maybe I'm both."

"No, I-"

"If you say 'it wasn't you, it was me' I'm gonna start taking these steps three at a time."

"It was-" Up close, Tommy looks tired. There are lines in his face that weren't there before. "Significantly more about me and my trust issues than it was about you. Is that different enough for you to stick around?"

"You gave me trust issues, Tommy. Not just in you, or other people I might date, but in myself."

Tommy's expression is gutted. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid more pain in the future, for both of us."

Sparing a thought for Bobby, who hopefully settled in the lobby to wait, Buck sits on the landing, wedging himself against the wall to take up less space. "I loved you."

"I believe you." Tommy sat down next to him, almost touching because of the width of the staircase. "I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings. You're a grown man and all I can say in my defense is that I become the fucking unabomber when I get scared. Ask Howie and Hen about my years as a closet case working under a captain who got a medal for outstanding work in homophobia."

It would be so easy to pull Tommy into his arms. Just reach out.

"Buck?"

Buck swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry. I honestly felt I gave up the right to set myself apart in that way." Tommy swallows. "Evan."

Buck blinks away a fresh round of tears. "Are you okay, really?"

Tommy gestures at himself. "As you can see, I'm not going out tomorrow and running a marathon, but next week I get to start training to go back to work." He shrugs a little, smiling. "So I'm pretty damn peachy."

"What about the thirty-nine percent?"

Tommy whistles while pointing down. "It's pretty much back to whatever my prognosis was for running into fires and flying around in a tin can."

"That's- That's great." Buck's phone rings.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Bobby says. "I just didn't want to leave without saying something. I'll get an Uber, okay?"

"No. No, we're good. I'll see you in five." Buck meets Tommy's steady gaze. "Next week, huh? Do you wanna go for a run at that park near my place? I promise to take it easy on you. Or, not easy, whichever you need."

Tommy visibly stops himself from declining. "Okay. Text me." He rises from the steps and starts for the exit door as Buck begins his way down. "Evan?"

Buck turns. "Yeah?"

"I loved you, too."

Breathing out, Buck rolls his shoulders back. "I figured. See you next week."

[estinininininen]

FFIV: Delicate Flower, "Rose of the Moon", part 2/2, (ao3), ~2800 words. (Part 1 tumblr)

Kain Highwind is a little older now, and realizes paladins, white mages, and love can all be far stranger - and messier - than he thought.

WARNING: Graphic injury. Graphic. Don't ignore the warning.

Kain never got to speak again to Rosa that day, but this was not the end of the world. Life continued. Kain realized that he shouldn't listen to the part of him that called that day the worst of his life so far. He learned a lot from that day.

Kain spent more time listening to others when they told him things he didn't want to hear. He did not need Sir Halbright to force him up at the crack of dawn to train, and even tailed after Sir Halbright in meetings when he could. He studied under him for practical reasons, as one day the command of the dragoons would pass down to Kain.

Kain also worried that there was something inside people like Halbright, Giles, Rosa, and by all accounts his father, that he and Cecil lacked, Kain moreso. He wanted to absorb it by watching. He did not know the word for it. It floated somewhere between focus, integrity, and calm.

Cecil and Rosa were dating and that, he told himself, was good. It was fine. They were cute together. Cecil had more important things on his mind and needed support from both Rosa and Kain. The King did not fulfill Kain's deepest anxiety and disown Kain and dissolve the dragoons forever more for his bad showing. In fact he spoiled Kain a bit after his injury. Kain was relieved, and felt for the first time that Odin might understand Kain more than he had known.

Giles had been right about the King: what he asked of Cecil had been a passing fancy. The airships, the strange swords: these had been the aborted beginnings of Odin's attempt to reduce Baron's military. It was a noble if idealistic dream: What if there was one day a strong warrior-king, who risked himself before others, able to travel the world at a moment's notice? Perhaps the ever-grinding war machine that formed the backbone of Baron's culture and economy would not have to exist.

This had backfired on the King. Odin could not maneuver the merchants and warriors of Baron into following a song of peace instead of war. The very dragoons Kain was the ascendant lord of would not accept a lessened role in Baron. Nor would Kain in his heart, even if he heard logic from Odin at dinner table discussions. Other countries worried at the air force and these new "Red Wings." They were more comfortable with Baron's army as the traditional, landlocked force, protecting the crystals only if called. They had since time immemorial, why change?

Kain drifted away from the King as foster-father, as he and Odin had reached an understanding they were more liege-lord and knight-vassal than family. Odin was not ever going to be Kain's father. There was calm discussion and little drama about it. Odin was proud of him, Kain knew. Kain more worried about Odin telling Cecil that.

As the years passed, Odin and Cecil's relationship grew closer and yet more fraught. Cecil pushed himself beyond what even Odin and all teachers asked from him. Odin would then let Cecil recover for months, trying to spend time with Cecil more as a father than liege-lord. Contrary to expectations for a boy raised as a prince in all but name, Cecil did not enjoy this coddling. He was becoming a man suited for action, and without the very same skill that was driving a wedge between him and Odin, he felt less useful. Kain suspected no one besides Odin's closest advisors and friends even knew, or felt they had the right to ask: Did the King regret asking Cecil to . . . ?

The matter of the royal inheritance had crept up over the years as Odin failed to marry. Odin, Cecil, and Kain had ignored it for more than a decade out of love. As Kain came of age he found it was decided in everyone else's thoughts before the three had even realized. Outsiders murmured to Kain their surprise he was not more jealous of Cecil. Kain was, but he also knew he would be a terrible king, and he would not wish Cecil's current burden on anyone. And there was also the biggest lesson he had learned at that tournament.

Life was not like a chivalric romance. Good people did bad things.

Kain could not say when he realized the King had asked Kain and Cecil to be dark knights without explaining the cost. It just flowed out from that sunny first day of June. He grew a more natural awareness of how adults hid secrets from each other, instead of the mustache-twirling villains of his past imagination. Real life did not have childish expressions of pure evil.

And yet . . .

Kain still cherished a sliver of that old magic in the stories and culture Odin now wanted to weaken in Baron. There were important truths in glory and romance, Kain still felt, and the most important was what was worth fighting for. A beautiful woman. Childhood friendship you remembered, even if you all drifted apart. A king worth serving. People worth saving, if you were not worth saving yourself.

Such lessons Kain thought he had learned, and that the King and Cecil had also learned similar things. Enough they should have avoided what happened later.

Then the King went mad. Or perhaps he had already died and they didn't know.

Kain almost saved Cecil from dishonor and demotion. He almost piped up to say the Mist dragon seemed not to be a true enemy. He almost reached close enough to Cecil and Rydia when the eidolon Titan erupted from the earth. He almost escaped his own madness. He almost broke free of it, in Fabul. He almost got Rosa out of Zot, then was almost cleared of Golbez's influence for a time. He almost resisted in the Sealed Cave, and he almost didn't hurt Cecil.

By the time Kain slipped free again, he was tired of 'almosts.' He wanted certainty, the certainty he couldn't find in himself. If he turned to his old understanding of the world, he would be the villain, the blackguard children hissed at in puppet shows. Cecil had changed, changed into more legend than man, a half-Lunarian paladin. Redeemed. Filled with the nameless strength of character Kain realized he had lacked. Compared to Kain he was as distant as the moon from the earth. There was only one constant left:

Rosa.

Until, that is, he learned she was never what he thought in the first place.

----------

They had been lucky in the Lunar Subterrane until Edge found the dark shadow of Bahamut. Luck tended to run out when everyone was blasted point-blank without warning by a wall of dragonfire. Kain only escaped because he was ready to Jump anyway.

He looked down from the air to see four prone forms. All four were knocked out with pain or because their airways were burnt. Clock was ticking. "Shit shit shit shit shit," he said.

Never take a chance to strike for granted, though. At the apex of his jump, he flipped into the classic headfirst dragoon attack now as easy for him as walking. As he twisted, he reached into the emergency-of-emergencies bundle tucked into his breastplate. He grabbed it, a folded, thin white handkerchief. Grey with age and stained, and with young Rosa's attempts at embroidery. One of dozens the group shared now without thinking.

He shoved it his mouth, knifing down through the air, and braced for impact with both hands on the holy spear. This was what he did. This was what he was for, the only thing men like him were good for- no time to think. Distraction killed. With no other target, Kain aimed for the eye. It was wide enough to stand on.

Hit. Clean, deep, and retractable for an easy retreat. He tried not the think about the sound the lens made as it crunched. Kain had no time for thinking. He withdrew the spear in a shower of blood and clear jelly. A bit splattered on Rosa as Kain landed next to her. Don't think about mess. Don't think about what she must think about disgusting things.

The shadow twin of Bahamut reared in agony and lost track of Kain, but that would be only for a moment. Kain spat out the handkerchief, pulled back one corner, and pulled out one of the treasures held within: a fluff of phoenix down, tiny as a grape and thin as onion skin. With a shaking hand, he pressed it to Rosa's forehead between her eyes. He told himself, Do not, do not think about the puling whistle of Rydia's breath next to him, or how Cecil was not moving at all.

Rosa's blackened cheek twitched as the magic, which Kain was deaf, blind, and numb to, flowed into her. Then she gasped in and Kain was moving backwards the moment he saw healed flesh rippling out from her head and chest. The most he could do now for help was to distract the dragon. This creature, the inversion of Bahamut's cleansing fire, as Kain was to Cecil's sacred sword-

Don't think. Don't think.

He Jumped, and dived, and stabbed. He ducked and wove. He kept fighting. Behind him he heard armor clanking as Cecil stood back up and helped Rosa heal. Within moments they would all be standing.

Kain flipped back to regroup. He tore his eyes away from the dragon to check Rosa and Cecil were healing successfu-

Something huge, and sharp, and awful as judgment crashed into his stomach. It popped right through to his skin and tore down to his hip like peeling overripe fruit. He was pulled out of the air and and smashed into hard stone only feet away from landing next to Edge and Cecil. The dragon's tail whipped out and back and Kain saw a bloody smear on the spines.

Cecil was looking down at him and saying something. Kain couldn't understand him. His head, back, and everything below his chest didn't hurt, exactly, but felt like they were either blowing up like a balloon or shriveling up, or both at the same time. He felt ready to pass out.

"I think I'm going to pass out," Kain said.

He passed out.

He came to what felt like seconds later. But with no dragon, screaming, or screaming dragon, it had to be some time later. Kain was on top of a blanket. He couldn't open his eyes. He felt more tired than he ever had before. The questions What's going on? and Where am I? seemed less important right now than Can I go back to sleep?

His belly twisted, and it hurt. No - something twisted his belly. Something was in his stomach.

"He's twitching," Cecil said, somewhere over Kain's right side.

"He won't wake up," Rosa said, over Kain's left.

"Should I get Rydia just in case?" Cecil asked.

"Let her sleep. Shame you don't have that sleep sword anymore," she said. "If it comes to it, I could just cut him with that instead of the scalpel a few times and he'd fall asleep again. Eventually."

"Uh," Cecil said.

"That was a joke," Rosa said.

Cecil was quiet, then said, "I don't think I'm cut out to be a white mage." Kain could hear how nauseous Cecil felt. It made Kain want to ask what they were both staring down at, and what were those wet sounds coming from where his navel was. Where his navel should be, rather. He was just too tired to talk. It also hurt, of course, but he imagined that was just a fact of life when disemboweled.

Reality and all its troubles seemed very far away to Kain. It was a nice change of pace.

"Nonsense," Rosa said. "You're a great white mage. You've already got all the basics down. I'm really impressed with how fast you've learned," she said. Kain heard the snap of tiny scissors and a squelch as Rosa reached into him to grab gods only knew what.

"Oh," Cecil said. "Thank you." He swallowed. "It's just. I'm still not used to it, I guess."

Rosa hummed. Kain had the absurd idea she was stitching up his guts with the same silly face she might stitch up a handkerchief. She would stick out her tongue a little and close one eye, which Kain had always thought rather cute. It was less so now. She sounded very casual.

Surely this wasn't a . . . a normal activity to her?

Cecil continued thinking out loud. "I didn't think stitching and mending, all the practical healing skills, would still be so important." Kain cracked his eyes open. He could lie there unmoving while in pain, but if he was going to need to say something, it was Cecil, for fuck's sake, stop distracting her.

All he could see was stone and a blurry glow from a campfire. Cecil and Rosa were silhouetted.

"Well, I didn't intend to run out of mana," Rosa said.

"Of course not. Neither did I," Cecil said. "I feel like I'm just learning things . . . backwards, you know?"

"Hm?"

"You started with changing bandages and learning anatomy, long before you ever healed a patient, right? But I started with Porom and Tellah yelling at me in between fighting off the undead when we were coming down - that mountain," Cecil said. Cecil never spoke about Mt. Ordeals unless he had to. "I feel like I skipped some important things."

"Like what?" Rosa said.

"Oh, uh. Everything," Cecil said. "Right now I'd need to know how to sew, how to cut, where to cut, when to clean the scalpel-"

"It's always better to clean between every cut, with gut wounds, but I'm cheating," Rosa said. Kain loved Rosa but he was about to lash out and say, The fuck you are, woman, go back and clean up or save everyone the trouble and put me down, but then Rosa said, "I'm healing a bit and using esuna as I go along. I have some mana left, just not for big heals. Don't try this until you've practiced a few times."

"Oh. Okay," Cecil said.

"You've got to relax, Cecil. This isn't the first time you've seen blood, or guts. I know it isn't."

"No, no," Cecil said. "I just . . . can't believe this is something you just. Do. Reach in and . . . "

"You might have to do more than just this," Rosa said. "Not today, because I'm healing as I go, and I have a reed for a straw, but if the intestines are full, or impacted? They bruise easily. All organs do. Cleaning them out before making an incision or stitching is important if you rely on healing later, after closing up, to clean out infection. And bruising can weaken them enough they tear later, and then you've got to heal for that, too. So you have to clean it out, and can't squeeze. You have to suck."

Kain felt his soul take leave of his body and land back in his chest with a thunk.

"Oh," said Cecil. Kain wondered if he'd prefer to be a dark knight again. "Oh. I would prefer not to have to that."

"It's not pleasent but it's part of the job. Overall, though? I'm just putting the pieces back together is all," Rosa said. "I can teach you anatomy. It's nice having something to talk about besides the end of the world. And I've been spending more time with you than ever before. It's nice."

Kain's full attention floated up towards the surface enough for him to say, "Oh, so that's your idea of a hot date?"

Cecil screamed. It was a loud and high scream of the sort Kain hadn't heard from Cecil since they were children.

Rosa didn't even flinch.

"Kain! Oh good gods, man," Cecil said. "He's awake! You said he wasn't going to wake up!"

"He's fine," Rosa said. "Kain, don't . . . don't move around."

Kain said, "No problem, Rosa. I'm fine, Cecil. Ces. Hah. You screamed like a . . . " He stopped, and thought about who was holding a piece of his insides. "-a child," he said. "I got you good."

Rydia, hair wild with sleep but eyes wide enough the whites glowed in the firelight, appeared over Rosa's shoulder. Edge materialized from bare stone. "Why's he laughing? What's wrong?" Edge said.

"He's just in shock," Rosa said. "He'll be fine. He's fine. Everything's fine. Rydia, put him back to sleep, would you?"

"'M fine," Kain said. "Rosa, you ate shit? Have you literally eaten shit?"

"Go back to sleep, Kain," Rosa said, with the patience of a glacier eroding a mountain. Rydia started chanting the spell.

"Nooooo," Kain said. "I don't want to go to sleep. Were you making fun of Cecil? Were you just kidding?"

"No, I wasn't kidding. You weren't supposed to hear that, though. Don't worry about it." She winked at him. "White mages have to keep a few secrets."

"Ugh," Kain said. He looked at Cecil. "If this is her idea of a good time, you can have her."

Cecil's jaw dropped at both Rosa and Kain as Rydia cast sleep. As he slipped under, he heard Rosa start giggling. He wondered what was so funny.

"What's so funny?" he said.

"Goodnight, Kain," Rosa said, still giggling.

He smiled. "Goodnight," he said, and fell asleep.

[flow2024]

For the prompt ask - and in connection with your fic from last night - AndyJoeNicky 25 :)

(the fic) i DID write this one the other day as a spiritual fill for this prompt and then fully forgot to put the dialogue in so here is a new and separate thing also. because i love writing about Them

warnings for drowning

25. "You scared us all back there. I... Including me."

For a moment, Andromache sees it. In the murky darkness of the sea, there is hardly anything to see, and yet she sees it, a titan lurking beneath the water. It is just below her. If she dived just a little further she could touch it. Then the screaming starts, displacing the water around her and Andromache feels it more than she hears it but she knows that voice, muffled as it is, knows it as she knows her own heartbeat.

It has been twenty two years. Andromache struggles to orient her body towards it with nothing to hold on to, but she has become a strong swimmer these past twenty two years, in spite of the current trying to pull her up and away. She is an arm's length away from it. How she will get it out of the water does not matter. All that matters is reaching it.

Her fatal mistake is using the last of the air in her lungs to call out, but she needs Quynh to know that she is here, that she has found her and will find her. She strains as much as she can, even though the water continues to bear her away, even though she can barely see it in the darkness. She has never been more certain of anything in her life.

The other thing that she has learned, in all this time, is that the ocean is not kind, nor forgiving. She is unable to control her body's instinct to breathe. Water rushes into her lungs in a cold wave, and the weight of it bears down on her all the worse for it. Drowning is a horrible way to die, but there is nothing she can do to

the current has borne her away when she regains consciousness but her body cannot expel the water from her lungs and the pressure is unrelenting and so this time it is even sooner that she

it is too dark to tell which way is up and which way is down and even if she wanted to she could not get back to Yusuf and Nicolò but even if she could she cannot she has to press on even if she dies a thousand time she was less than an

arm's length from reaching the coffin and if she can break the iron even a little it will give Quynh a better chance of breaking free and if she can get out

and reach the surface Andromache will find her even if she washes up on a distant shore even if it takes centuries Andromache will find her found her once millennia ago and will do so again whatever

it takes but now there is something brushing against her there is something pulling her back even further and she thrashes against it she cannot be trapped down here

what good will that do for Quynh what will it do for Yusuf and Nicolò she has to keep going even if it takes her a thousand

now she is being held and she does not know by whom and they are not moving and she can barely move and

this time she feels whoever is holding her stop moving and it is getting lighter they are getting closer to the surface and further from Quynh and

how many times has she died now what does it matter she has to get back down there but whoever is holding her even in death will not let her go no matter how much she

the light hurts her eyes and the water is still in her lungs and even though she has broken the surface she cannot

the deck rocks beneath her and Nicolò is helping her turn onto her side because they have found it helps clear the water from their lungs and she coughs so violently her whole body convulses but it gets some of the water out and still Nicolò is there, saying something that she cannot hear, and her hands are shaking and behind her Yusuf is dead but gasps back to life after only a moment, and she feels rather than hears Nicolò's sigh of relief, and all she can think of is Quynh.

"I found her," Andromache says, water still bubbling up and out of her lungs with the words, but she has to say it. Nicolò stills where he had been easing Yusuf onto his side.

"You-"

"I found her," Andromache says again, reaches over to grab his wrist. "She's there, I have to go back." She says it again when Nicolò shakes his head, again and again and again I have to go back I have to go back I have to go back. She was so close.

Yusuf manages to sit up but Andromache's body is still recovering and Nicolò grabs a coil of rope that is sitting on the deck, makes brief eye contact with Yusuf, ties the rope around his own waist and passes the other end to Yusuf and then, without further hesitation, dives into the water where Yusuf and Andromache must have come out of it. Yusuf continues to catch his breath, holding onto the rope so tightly it must hurt.

Together, they breathe.

"You should have left me down there," Andromache says with laboured breaths as soon as she has the ability to speak.

Yusuf only looks at her. He presses the heel of his hand to his chest, over his heart, rubbing back and forth as if it will ease his breathing - it does nothing, but it has become a habit of his. His expression is a mixture of incredulity and hurt.

"I saw nothing, Andromache," he says. "I thought that was why you had not come up, but I saw nothing."

Andromache is shaking her head before he finishes. "I could see it. I heard her."

Yusuf is quiet. Then he says, "You did not come up for so long. You frightened us both. If you were trapped down there-" He cannot finish.

"I could have touched it," Andromache says. Yusuf says nothing.

It is a lifetime before Nicolò resurfaces. Yusuf pulls on the rope when it goes loose as Nicolò starts to drift, and when he breaks the surface of the water he is dead. It takes both of them to pull him from the water. Yusuf, as Nicolò had done for Andromache and for him, rolls him onto his side and waits, his hand hovering just over Nicolò's face as if he cannot quite manage to touch it. Andromache has to look away until Nicolò wakes.

"Did you see?" is the first thing Andromache asks.

Nicolò shakes his head. A coughing fit has him bending double before it subsides and allows him to catch his breath.

"Nothing," Nicolò says. "I saw nothing."

[synthwaveangel]

Rain

The sky on New Tideland is so much more blue than on planets I have been on previously. 1.0 and I spent the day providing security for Seth in the planet’s spaceport, but now we are wandering some of the hiking trails outside the city limits. This, too, is new to me – Barish Estranza planets are fully developed, rather than having large swathes dedicated to nature. I think I like it. 

1.0 does not like planets, yet it offered to accompany me on my exploration regardless. I think I like that, too. It walks several paces behind me, but our feed is alive with chatter. It mostly talks about one of the serials we have been watching with the Perihelion recently, but when I point out interesting flora and fauna, or interesting rock formations, it listens to me intently. I think I like that quite a bit. I have never been listened to so intently before meeting 2.0 and the Perihelion and 1.0 and our humans, and while 1.0 is often less patient than the others, I believe there is something special about how it treats me. 

The sky is turning grey, great columns of clouds swirling up into the mountains from the sea like some god is painting enormous swirls on the border between us and heaven. I tell this to 1.0, and it laughs a little. 

“You’ve been reading too many fantasy books,” it says, looking into one of my drones. 1.0 doesn’t really smile in the traditional sense, but the skin around its eyes crinkles when it is happy, like right now. I have noticed that it is happy a lot, when I am around. I think I like that quite a bit. It raises a hand, palm up, towards the brewing storm. “It looks like it’s going to rain. We should head back, or we’ll be caught up in it.” 

“I do not think that would be a terrible thing. Being caught in the rain with you, that is,” I say, and I mean it. 1.0 looks down at the path, embarrassed, but its eyes are still crinkly. Still, I turn and walk past my friend, brushing shoulders briefly with it as we start back towards the spaceport. The wind picks up around us as we walk, and 1.0 is beside me as we travel along the path. 

The large-leafed trees sway strongly in the winds of the coming storm, and the valley beneath us seems to come alive, rippling like water on the surface of the ocean. Another thing I have experienced recently. 

The rain starts coming down, all of a sudden, and it is very cold and wet. The raindrops hit like thousands of little pings, and I startle and laugh at the sensation, stopping and staring up at the storm. Rain hits my face and runs down it, more like a shower than I was expecting. I definitely enjoy the experience. My mind wanders a little as I watch the sky open up. Here, in my new life, I can enjoy new things, but I know I will always be safe. Because my friends are here with me, and we will always be together in this strange life. I never thought being a rogue would be like this – like freedom without fear, like security without confinement. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m glad for it every moment. 

“Come on,” 1.0 says with a nudge to my side, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I bet I can beat you back.” 

I give 1.0 a smile, and we run back home. New things can be fun, but I do not believe anything beats being wrapped up warm on the couch next to it while we watch media.

[eternal-pie]

Stupid Pt.3

Shinso x reader

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 (Your POV)

———————

Shinso can’t say he knows much about what dating is like in high school. He had no intention of dating during his time at UA, seeing more value in pursuing his career than getting sad about unrequited feelings. Dating will only distract him from his goals anyway.

Even with his inexperience Shinso doubts this is normal, sure when two people got together people would talk. But he doesn’t ever remember people caring this much.

People had been trying to convince you to ditch him the moment you two spoke for the first time and still did occasionally.

Hitoshi is used to the people around him being “warned” about him by others who didn’t actually know him.

You were just the first person to truly ignore the warnings.

Even as Shinso grew more sure you were comfortable with him, some deep illogical part of him tensed when you had told him people had come to you. Even as you joked about how weird it was, He had seen the same thing happen so many times before, people never know when to mind their own business.

It was weird the first time he witnessed one of these “interventions” for the first time. Intervention was the only thing he could think to call it because that is exactly what it felt like. Warnings about Shinso were always whispered behind his back. So it was entirely unexpected when they were given right in front of him.

The two of you had been eating lunch together, something you did often. When a group of girls descended upon you, They surrounded your table, as if they intended to keep you trapped there until they were sure they had convinced you. Not a single one even acknowledged he was there, his presence seemingly irrelevant to them, or maybe intentional.

Hitoshi can’t say he was fond of the way they spoke to you, like you had some sickness you couldn’t recognize, like you didn’t understand what they were trying to tell you.

It felt like a rehab meeting scene and some shitty American movie. Or what was probably more accurate in their minds, a group trying to help their friend realize they’re an abusive relationship.

The girls made it very clear that they thought that you were not there of your own choice, but maybe you felt you couldn’t leave or didn’t realize how bad things truly were.

Occasionally they’d glare at him, trying to communicate their disdain through expressions alone, never speaking. Too afraid to risk activating his quirk.

Some of them seem to be genuinely concerned, he could commend those few for trying to help a person they thought might have been in danger. Though there were only two of them, they did their best to come off as nonjudgmental as possible, to offer you help without barging it on your personal life or making you feel bad.

Their “intervention” felt more like an offer of help if you ever needed it, instead of something they were forcing on to you.

Though their genuine compassion was drowned out by the other girls with them, more interested in gossiping about him than actually helping you.

They’re every pore oozed judgment, words dripped with condescension.

Didn’t you know who he was? What Toru and Kiro and Hina said he did? What he could do? Did you even understand the position you're in?

And despite Shinso understanding that the fear these people have, their concerns were based on hearsay. Despite how much he hated the way these people acted like they knew anything about either of you. He knew they had a point, so he was surprised watching you brush off their concerns.

Your hang outs never stopped, you never got distant. Occasionally some kid would learn of it and get worried but over time people just got used to the idea of you being friends with Shinso.

He’d guess, most assumed you only spoke to him occasionally, He’s a pretty private person so most of your interactions were left unseen. people probably thought you tolerated him every once in a while.

This belief didn’t hold up well when you started “dating” him. Shinso is a little disappointed about how weird people were about it.

No way is it normal to have random people try and talk to a guy they’ve never spoken to before about his “girlfriend”.

Shinso didn’t know any of these people.

A select few didn’t know him either, to them he only existed in proximity to you. He liked talking with them the most. they only made off hand comments, usually to see if he really was “the guy”. It was still weird but at least there wasn’t any accusation in their tone.

Others did know of him and had already formed strong opinions of him long before ever meeting him.

In his life very few tried to “call Shinso out” to his face. If the things they thought were true, then why on earth would they want to risk triggering his quirk?

But no one can truly anticipate the stupidity of upset hormonal teenagers, especially those who think they're heroes saving someone or have something to prove.

Most, smartly, were subtle. Only ever eyeing him suspiciously while commenting on how great you are and how lucky he is.

The groups were always bad, people were stupid in groups. Usually they were led by one of the boys he had scared off, hopes dashed and ego bruised, they approached him with the intention of settling some unspoken score.

Though all scenarios shared the worst part, trying to explain you weren’t dating to begin with. No matter how bluntly or clearly he stated it, his words seemed to go over their heads.

It was only when he spoke to you about it that he was able to even try and guess at what was going on .

——————

Let me know if you guys are interested in seeing this in your POV :p

——————

@x-reader-reblog-station

[generic-enthusiast]

Johnny always loved the sea. There wasn’t a first time he thought of it, or some grand moment of realisation, it just always was.

He’d never seen the sea, of course, living in Tulsa, but he had imagined it. Someday, once he got out of that house and made a life of his own, he was going to see it. Maybe he didn’t have an exact plan as to how, but he knew he would. 

The ocean was freedom. He didn’t need to have seen it to know. It was there, in “Oh Captain, My Captain”, and Impression: Sunrise and all of Ponyboy’s drawings and everything he read out loud when the two of them sat alone in his room, passing the time when there was nothing else to do. 

There were no buildings out at sea. No Corvettes, no greasers, no Socs with their rings and Mustangs and Madras. There were no stifling houses with screaming parents, no cement beds with newspaper sheets. 

It would just be Johnny and his boat and more water than he could ever imagine. 

It would be beautiful, too. So beautiful he wouldn’t need Ponyboy to remind him to pay attention to it, not the way he needed to remember to watch the sunset, sometimes climbing a tree so he could see over the buildings. Not the way he needed to remember fireflies were dots of flame, flying around, not pests he wanted to kill. Not the way he needed to constantly remind himself that someone designed that house, someone grew those flowers there, someone put everything where it is right now, because they wanted to make it beautiful. 

It would just be beautiful. 

At just sixteen, he didn’t know where life would lead him, other than out of Tulsa. He didn’t know how he would get to California or Florida or anywhere else he could finally see the ocean. 

He just knew that he would. No matter what it took. 

Molly doesn’t know what she was imagining when she went to nursing school, but it definitely wasn’t this. 

She thought she would be calming down babies who needed to get shots, telling kids to stay still so the doctor could measure and weigh them. At worst, she thought she might get a moody teenager with an impatient mother. 

She’d be helping people, putting her years of memorising body parts and metabolic processes to use. 

But they don’t teach you how to comfort a fourteen-year-old with a dead best friend in nursing school. So she hands him a handkerchief and offers to call his parents. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s there, just grabs onto the dead boy’s hand stronger — sixteen, he was just sixteen — and whispers his name. Johnny. 

She walks away after a couple minutes. There’s paperwork to be done when someone dies, and it’s her turn to do it. Linda showed her how to do it in her first week.

Quite honestly, Herbert just wants to go home. Working at the local registry office isn’t fun, it isn’t mentally stimulating, and he really would like to just go home, have a glass of wine, and read the same book to his kids for the thirtieth time. 

With still an hour until closing time, a young woman steps inside. 

“Hello there, how can I help you?” 

“I’d, um… I’d like to register a death. And get a certificate for a cremation.”

“Of course.” The job may be boring, but most of it is better than this. Dealing with mourning families who have to sort through funeral rites and paperwork. It seems cruel to put them through it. “Name?”

“Mine or of the… the deceased?”

“Yours first.”

“Right. Molly Waters.”

“Relation to the deceased?”

“I was the nurse whose care he was under. He died of uh… we’re not entirely sure what. Could have been smoke inhalation, intense burns…” She trails off. Ah. First time. 

“And his name?”

“Jonathan Cade.”

It never gets easier to handle corpses. 

Michael’s been working at the crematorium for almost ten years now — known he actually wants to be an engineer for eight — and he can still feel the acid rolling around in his stomach with every body he’s given. But if the old bodies are depressing and unsettling, Michael can’t begin to describe what the corpse he’s just received has made him feel. 

He can’t have been older than fifteen, this boy, and never ate a good meal by the looks of it. He’s so thoroughly burnt it seems cruelly ironic that he would ask for a cremation. Makes you wonder what sort of a teenager has funeral rites on his mind. 

Michael tears his eyes away from the boy and closes the box. 

Time for the chamber. 

He sets the clock and starts to wait. 

Most of the cremation process is waiting — there are shortcuts, he’s sure, but they’re heartless, not to mention probably illegal. 

So he waits for two hours until it all turns to ash. Then he takes what’s left of the boy out of the chamber and waits for it — him? — to cool down. Once he puts the ashes in an urn, he has to wait for the closest family member — a man named Darrel Curtis — to come pick it up.  

Most of Michael’s life has been spent waiting. Waiting for the chamber to do its work and waiting for the time to be right and waiting for his father to retire and waiting for a sign from the universe. 

Waiting for time to pass him by.  

At least he’s done something with his life. He’s done something small here or there, something that actually mattered for once. It adds up. Slowly but surely.

But this boy… he’s hardly had enough moments for any of them to count. And he won’t get any more. 

Someday, neither will Michael. 

And Jesus if that isn’t depressing. 

He closes the crematorium chamber and picks up the phone, taking a mental note to ask around for a replacement. 

“Hey, Rosie? It’s Mike. Yeah, I know it’s been a while. I wanted to say sorry.”

Sometimes, if Darry doesn’t talk for a while, his lips will start to fuse together. Something else probably also has to happen — they don’t always stick —, but under the right circumstances, his lips will stick together a bit more than usual and it feels sort of nice to have himself closed off. It used to happen in class all the time, until he was called on and had to unstick them. It was always kind of disappointing.

It hadn’t happened in years when he walked outside to get the mail and found a bag stuffed in their mailbox, a shoebox on the floor next to it holding more bags and their usual letters.  

Two-Bit’s started carrying the chewed-up pencil tucked behind his ear, Steve’s wearing his DX nametag again, Soda still hasn’t told them what he found, and Ponyboy carries the drawing folded up in his pocket and opens it up sometimes. Darry has the football in his closet, beside his work shirts. He takes a moment to look at it before he gets dressed every morning. Takes a moment to remember.

Three days ago, Darry went to sleep with that same feeling of his lips being glued together. It had been a while since he felt it last, probably back in high school, when he was expected to spend hours in silence, listening to teachers. 

Only his lips still feel like they’ve fused together, because he only ever opens his mouth to eat, and ten minutes after eating, it’s like nothing ever happened. 

No one’s said much. 

There’s not much to say.

They’re still waiting for closure. Dally’s buried already, has a tombstone nearby Mom and Dad. But Johnny wanted to be cremated. They’re still not entirely sure what to do with his ashes, ashes Darry only brought home today. 

“Darry?” 

Ponyboy’s voice sounds small, like it has for a week. Darry wonders when it’ll go back to normal. If it ever will. 

“Yeah, Pony?” Unsticking his lips has always been a strange sensation, but never more relieving than right now.

“I was thinking, uh…” Ponyboy opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to find what exactly to say. “I remember we used to talk about the— the sea.” Darry’s about to ask who “we” is before realising there’s only one possibility. “He— he always wanted to see it. Said he’d get to see it if it killed him.”

The sentence hangs in the air between them. 

“I figured, since we don’t know what to do with his— his… him. I figured we could spread the ashes at the sea. I think it’s— it’s what he woulda wanted.” 

“Oh.” 

Ponyboy stays still, looking at him expectantly. 

“I– uh, yeah. We should… we should do that.”

Darry spends the next couple days tracing out a route on their map. His dad always told him not to do it, that it would end up confusing him if he drew out too many, and the map would end up being useless. 

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to think Dad would disapprove. 

The closest beach is Galveston. Due south, through Dallas. 

He tries to find a way around it, another beach they can go to, but everything else is too far and they can’t afford that many days off of work. How ironic. Go through Dallas to bring Johnny peace.   

There must be some sort of metaphor there. He’d ask Pony if it weren’t so fucking depressing. 

The gang all manage to carve out a bit of time, so come Saturday at seven AM (with no small amount of grumbling) they pile into Darry’s truck and start heading south. 

Ponyboy’s carrying the urn in his lap, and he looks down at it every couple seconds, as if to make sure it’s still there. He’s on the far right of the back seat, Soda beside him, Steve on the far left. Two-Bit’s next to Darry, sifting through the bag of snacks he brought. 

Usually a road trip just means Two-Bit and Soda are more annoying than usual because no one can escape, and Steve and Ponyboy start elbowing each other and jostling the whole car until they have to stop to get them to sit further apart. But no one feels like laughing right now, and there’s just three people in the back seat — more than enough space.

The engine in Darry’s truck has never been as loud as it is right now, rumbling underneath the silence, not daring to break it.

Sometimes the urn catches a bit of sunlight and Darry can just make it out in the corner of his eye. 

“Are we supposed to talk about him?” Ponyboy asks after a good ten-minute drive. 

For a beat, they’re all quiet. 

“I don’t think there’s any sort of ‘supposed to’ right now,” Soda answers.

And they fall back into silence. 

Darry should be saying something. Following through with Ponyboy’s idea, starting a round of memories. Lightening the air by telling a nice story, something to remind them all of how Johnny really was. 

But all he can remember is when he failed him worst.

“Y’know, when Pony told me that Johnny wanted to see the sea —” Two-Bit smiles at the play on words but it’s tainted by the sadness that’s dripping all around them “ — I didn’t remember anything about it. Thought it was one of those things they just talked about between them, that none of us knew about.”

It’s subtle, but the whole car’s listening to Darry. Steve’s looking out the window, but his eyes flicker from the cars outside to Darry; Soda’s playing with his hands, but he slows down when Darry starts talking; Two-Bit’s sifting through the snack bag, but he’s making sure not to make anything crinkle too loudly; and Ponyboy’s drumming his fingers on Johnny’s urn, staring at Darry with wide eyes. 

“Then I thought about it a while. And uh— it wasn’t. Johnny tried to tell me, one day. Bit after junior year ended, I think. I was tellin’ him ‘bout how I wanted to get out of here, go to college and study finance or somethin’ like that, and he said that he wanted to too, said the buildings were suffocating, you can hardly see the sky.

“He was just startin’ to talk about the sea — called it beautiful an’ freeing, I think — when the phone rang and I told him to hold on a minute. It was Paul, or Mark, or someone. They were gonna play ball and I headed out with hardly a goodbye.”

This is the part where someone says it’s not his fault. Where someone says he couldn’t possibly know it would be that important to him, he couldn’t know the conversation would matter, he was just a kid, he made a mistake. 

But no one does.

They settle into silence again. It takes thirty seconds for anyone to say anything else and it’s just “That’s fucked up” from Steve. 

There’s not much to say to follow that, so the silence frees up some space in Steve’s throat, letting the scream nestled in his chest crawl up his esophagus, scratching at the back of his tongue.

He wants to scream. He wants to yell at the top of his lungs, holler until he can’t anymore, until there’s no air left inside him, until he’s as empty as he feels.

There’s so much he didn’t tell them, so much he never had the guts to say, and he can’t stop thinking about what he would do if they had more time. 

The name tag’s still in his hand, the pin needling at his finger pad.

"Don’t pretend like you hate the kid. You're not foolin' anyone but him, an' someday it'll be too late."  

Jesus, he wants to scream. 

But he can’t, not inside the truck with all his friends around him, and he can’t, not so soon after Johnny screamed for the last time. 

Because if it weren’t for Johnny, Steve would still be that stupid, angry kid that kicked shit when he was mad. If it weren’t for that one day, one completely normal day where Steve got kicked out again and he ran to the Curtises’. 

And it was empty — he thought it was empty because he called out and no one answered — so he threw the pillows down on the sofa and punched the wall until his knuckles hurt and did all he could to make everything else hurt — everything but himself. 

And once he was done, standing next to the couch, gripping the armrest, Johnny came walking out of the kitchen and said evenly, “I usually just scream.”

And Steve froze. It was supposed to be empty. 

“I’m alone,” Johnny told him. 

Steve sat down on the couch. “What do you mean, you scream?”

“I mean when I’m mad, I scream. I find some place where no one can hear me — I ain’t got a car so nowhere too far — and I scream. Usually near Buck’s. Music’s so loud no one can hear, and if they do, they assume it’s a fight they don’t wanna be in.”

Then Johnny walked past Steve and out the front door. 

“Where you goin’?”

“To get Pony from the library. Wouldn’t put it past the Socs to jump a twelve-year-old.” When he was about to leave, he turned around on his heel and looked Steve in the eyes. “I don’t reckon anyone’d think too much ‘bout someone yellin’ ‘round here.” He laughed humourlessly. “God knows my folks do, and no one bothers much.”

And he turned around and left. 

And, y’know, Steve never thanked him for that? Not when he came back with Ponyboy, and Steve was sitting in Darrel’s armchair, drinking water to relieve his throat. Not when a drunk caught him out behind Buck’s and he just narrowly escaped a jumping. Not when he found a field a half hour away where no one could hear. Not when it all became too much for Soda, and Steve brought him out so he could scream too. 

Hell, Soda probably doesn’t even know Johnny thought it up. 

“We didn’t do good by him, did we?” Steve asks the silent car. 

“I don’t think we could,” Soda answers. “Was too good for this world.”

And it’s the truth.

Ponyboy once told Soda that it was like he understood everyone. Soda smiled and ruffled his hair and said “thanks, buddy” and didn’t ask who was left to understand him because he already knew the answer was no one. 

Maybe someone could’ve but no one bothered. No one bothered to try and look past the smile that came as easily as breathing. Whenever it fell, whenever the mask broke, a couple pats on the back and half-hearted smiles were supposed to be enough. 

Even Steve didn’t know what to do when Soda came crying to him. He tried, sure, but he could never get the right words out. 

So when Soda cried, he cried alone. 

Until he collapsed onto the couch after skipping seventh and eighth period and rolled his head back and let himself feel the tears tickle as they crawled down his face because for three hours — three hours — he tried to get it. He spent an hour trying to read it last night, even had Pony try and read it out loud to him (isn’t that humiliating, having your little brother help you with school?) but he just couldn’t concentrate so he skipped out on chemistry to try and read it but the words swam in his head and he was thinking about the conversation he had with Steve yesterday and then the bell rang and he still hadn’t read a paragraph so he took math too and then it was English and he still hadn’t read the homework and Mr Anderson called on him and—

He let out a pathetic little sigh, hiccuping through it quietly. 

The couch cushion sank beside him and his head shot up. Johnny was sitting down next to him. 

“You okay man?” He asked, eyes flickering to Soda. 

“Why’m I so fucking stupid?”

Oh, don’t say that, honey, you know it’s not true. 

No, you ain’t. 

You’re a smart kid, Pepsi-Cola. If ya just try a bit harder I’m sure your grades’ll go up. 

You ain’t dumb, Soda. Just takes you a while longer to learn, that’s all. 

“School’s bullshit,” Johnny said, and lay his head on Soda’s shoulder. 

And he let Soda rant until their family came home. About school, about grades, about how stupid Mrs Morrisson made him feel, about how Pony could do better than him in his classes.

When the rest of the gang got back from wherever they had been, Johnny said they’d been talking about last week’s drag race and they changed the topic to Kyle Terry’s obvious cheating, everyone talking over each other so loudly they hardly noticed when Soda didn’t contribute. 

And then Johnny never mentioned it again. (Neither did Soda. Didn’t thank him, didn’t ask if he wanted to talk about anything.)

“Didn’t deserve the cards he got.” Two-Bit sighs and shuffles around a bit. 

A couple of them hum in agreement but no one answers. It’s not fair that they’re here, talking about him and that he’s here but not really, here but not whole, here but not alive.

He meant it when he said they could get along without anyone but Johnny. Johnny’s the only one they couldn’t take losing.  

He lays his head on the headrest behind him, looks up, and closes his eyes. 

It takes a little over half an hour for Two-Bit to hear the sobs. He’s clearly trying to cover them up, but the house isn’t exactly big, and the walls aren’t exactly soundproof, so Two sneaks out of his bedroom. 

Johnny’s on the couch Two-Bit’s Mama bought at a flea market two years ago, his face pressed into that pillow Grandma made before she died. His chest is shaking and his knees are pulled up against him.  

Two-Bit tries his best not to scare Johnny as he sits down beside him, but he flinches anyway. Kid’s been trained to jump at any small noise. That fucking bastard. 

“H-hey.” He hiccups, burrowing his face in the pillow again. “Sorry for wakin’ you.” His voice comes out muffled.  

“Don’t be,” Two-Bit says. 

“An’ I’m sorry for bein’ here so much, I know you ain’t got the space or nothing, but it’s only been three days and Darry— he can’t—”

“I know, Johnnycake, I don’t mind.” He puts his arm around Johnny’s shoulder and pulls him towards him. 

There’s only two years between them, but something about Johnny reminds Two-Bit of his little sister and turns him into a big brother whenever he sees him. 

“I miss ‘em too,” Two-Bit whispers, “We all do.”

“I know,” Johnny whispers back. 

Two-Bit is rudely snapped out of his half-lucid dream by an obnoxiously loud clang coming from the trunk. Ponyboy jumps and grabs the urn protectively as though someone would try to steal it. 

“Shit,” Darry mutters and turns back to try and see what it was. 

“Just an old beer bottle,” Soda calls out, “bumped into a bucket or something.”

The silence settles back in and it’s so acutely uncomfortable. It’s never happened before, that silence is uncomfortable with the gang. They know each other so well, they’re so attuned to each other that silence hardly ever exists, and when it does, it’s never awkward. Or, at least, never awkward like this.  

“Can we, uh… Can we put on music?” Ponyboy asks. He could deal with silence most of the time, but this one was suffocating. 

“Yeah, sure, little buddy.” Keeping his eyes on the road, Darry feels around for the button and turns on the radio. 

Everybody loves somebody sometime

Everybody falls in love somehow

Of fucking course it’s this song. Because what else could play while a cold urn burns holes in Ponyboy’s legs?

He can’t ask for them to turn it off though, not without someone asking why, and he’s not about to get into that. 

He’s not about to get into that summer day last year, when it was too hot to do anything so Johnny and Ponyboy just laid around in Pony’s room, listening to the radio. Then the song came on and Ponyboy started wondering. 

Most thirteen-year-olds had at least had a crush. Boys in Ponyboy’s grade whispered things to girls in class and they giggled back; plenty of them called things out at girls down the street — which, sure Pony did too, but they actually meant it —; and every kept on shoving Mary at Thomas to see how he turned red. Soda said he’d grow into it eventually but shouldn’t he have already grown into it? Everyone else had. 

“Hey, Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you— D’you think they do?”

“Huh?” Johnny asked, sitting up on Pony’s bed. Pony looks up at him from where he’s laying on the floor. 

“D’you think everybody really does love somebody? Like the song says?” 

Johnny took a moment to think and the question started to weigh down on Ponyboy’s chest. It was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Johnny’d think he was some sort of freak.

“I dunno,” Johnny said after a while, “I don’t think everybody does anything.” A beat. “S’not bad not to, I don’t think. Don’t need it to be happy.”

Ponyboy hummed and Johnny lay back down and they went back to listening to the radio, as if the conversation never happened. 

Sometimes Ponyboy would wonder if Johnny even remembered the conversation. If he remembered it when a distant relative asked too many pointed questions about whether he liked any girls yet, when school friends pointed out hot girls on the street, when a love song came on on the radio, or if that just happened to Pony. 

The car stutters to a halt. 

Here they are. Four PM, they didn’t even stop for food. 

They walk along the beach, trying to find a place to settle down and… do whatever it is they need to do. Their shoes kick up clouds of sand that get in each other’s eyes, and they have to circle around a couple groups of people. At some point, Ponyboy — who somehow got put in charge of leading the group — stops and walks towards the sea, stopping right before the wet sand starts. 

Quite honestly, the beach is depressing as shit. 

The sun’s light is relentlessly bright — he can’t even look down at the urn without being blinded, they can still smell the highway that isn’t that far behind, and the sounds of the city reach them perfectly well. There’s no direction Ponyboy can turn in so he doesn’t see the skyscrapers — taller than Tulsa’s — looming over him. 

This isn’t what Johnny would’ve wanted. 

“He thought—” Ponyboy laughs humourlessly, “He thought it would be beautiful and freein’.”

“Well, fuck me if this is beautiful,” Steve says. 

The sea— it isn’t even blue. It’s closer to the murky grey of old concrete. 

“I sure as hell ain’t spreadin’ his ashes here.” The metal’s growing hot under Ponyboy’s hands. 

“Maybe it’s better that he ain’t here to see this. It’d be worse if he lived his whole life waitin’ for this only to get here and have it be…” Soda gestures vaguely at the disappointment that calls itself the sea.

“Ain’t it good that he had somethin’ to hope for?” Darry asks, speaking for the first time since his impromptu confession in the car, “Maybe it ain’t the way he imagined, but it gave him somethin’ to dream about. Look forward to, maybe. Made him happy, even if he never saw it.”

He pauses for a second and Ponyboy wonders if there’s anyone there that isn’t thinking about Darry’s dreams of going to college. 

“You don’t gotta get everything you want. Sometimes it’s the wantin’ that makes you happy.”

The drive back is a whole new level of dangerous, starting in the late afternoon and going into the early hours of the morning. No one drives for more than two hours straight, and they all get something drawn on them when they fall asleep next to Two-Bit.

Ponyboy holds the urn between his arms, same as he did on the way there, and once, when Steve and Soda are bickering and everyone else is asleep, he brings his mouth near the top of the urn and whispers: 

“I hope wantin’ made you happy, Johnny.” 

Based on this post by @ outsidersheadcanons

[ravenite-void]

✧₊⁺⋆.˚₊✩∘ "They were great. And a family." ∘✩₊˚.⋆⁺₊✧

Stained glass piece and a messy companion piece inspired by prompts from Melly on ao3 as a part of an exchange by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod ! Crossposted on ao3

[silverwings920]

So I have a stupid iski idea...

this idea has been stuck in my head for the past few days, and refuses to leave me alone, so here's something for the writers out there who need/want a spicy + comedy iski prompt (assuming my humor isn't too far off the mark lol)

idk how many people read dom/sub doujinshi's here, but something that just recently occurred to me bc i've started reading raws is that the dom voice lines/commands are often in English (or some foreign language) while normal speech is Japanese (e.g. 'Kiss' instead of 'キスして', 'Stay' instead of '待って', 'Look' instead of '見って', etc.).

anyway, the idea (v stupid & v cliche, i'm super aware):

basically iski have an established dom/sub relationship

when it started, Isagi barely knew any English or German, beyond small phrases of command or praise (like, 'Come', 'Speak', 'Stop', 'Gut' (German - good), 'Süß' (German - cute/sweet), etc.) that he uses in intimate moments (could be sexual, or just comfort) with Kaiser

note: he does this because he's aware that Kaiser needs the extra layer of delineation between their normal interactions and their dom/sub moments/scenes

Isagi's accent is kind of heavy when he uses his dom voice

outside of those moments, they usually just communicate with the Mikage translators on, which smooths out a lot of Isagi's voice & sounds very different from his dom voice

Kaiser kind of gets Pavlov'd into associating Isagi speaking English and German is reserved for when his guard is down / when he's safe / when he doesn't have to be all... 'God's Chosen Emperor'

as the Japan team progresses through the U20 World Cup, Isagi, along with the rest of the Blue Lockers, per Ego's insistence, starts learning to speak English more fluently, and makes Kaiser help him study

Kaiser agrees (all begrudging 'fine. i can't let you be an embarrassment to my image. you need to be able to at least talk to people without the translators as crutches')

soon, he realizes what a mistake he's made by agreeing to this because hearing Isagi actually speak English, as opposed to the translators filtering his voice, to him has a huge effect on him he never noticed before (because he was always already in a vulnerable state of mind when Isagi used it before)

he doesn't ever address this with Isagi because he doesn't want Isagi making fun of him or taking advantage of this knowledge (in the 'i want to be in full control of myself at all times'/'i'm not entirely ready to open up about everything yet'/'i don't wanna seem weak' kind of way, not implying that Isagi would actually manipulate him in any way)

over the years, Isagi and Kaiser grow closer, they learn each other's idiosyncrasies, and they even broach the topic of 'Kaiser's past', but Kaiser still never tells Isagi about the dom voice language thing, especially since he slowly got used to English thing and doesn't react to it as much anymore

then, Isagi signs a contract with BM (or any German team really) and has to, obviously, move to Germany

so, of course, he asks Kaiser to help him with his German

Kaiser, realizing what would happen to him if he were to agree, says something along the lines of 'absolutely fucking not. u can stay helpless babe around here. i'll say shit for you if really need it, because i'm so magnanimous, as long as i get to tease you for it lots'

Isagi, not at all realizing what Kaiser's refusal is about and thinking that he just wants to see him flounder, is just like 'fine. asshole' and never mentions it to Kaiser again

Kaiser breathes a sigh of relief, kind of assuming that Isagi will just leave it be, despite it making no sense that Isagi would just back down that easily

Isagi starts learning German in his own time, mostly so that when he doesn't have someone to help him communicate, he can still get by

he even gets help from Ness for a little bit (mainly bc Ness, no longer a full-time Kaiser glazer and fully aware of why Kaiser said no, is channeling his inner little shit and can't wait to see it all come crashing down on Kaiser. yes, he gets along quite well with Hiori now; Hiori denies all allegations of being a bad influence)

he still lets Kaiser speak for him most of the time when they're outside, getting groceries, having dinner, visiting places, etc. because he can tell that Kaiser is happy when he does it, and during interviews, he can usually get by with just English

eventually, somebody manages to dig up Kaiser's criminal record and it gets blown up in the media

Kaiser doesn't really care about the whole thing because he's already worked through that part of his past, but the media needs to be appeased so that it can move on to the next big thing, so BM arranges a press conference to deal with the situation, and Isagi is there, watching from the side

at first, it's going well, or well as it could, given the topic and nature of the media, but some rude tabloid writer/paparazzo has to ruin it

basically, he breaks code and starts deviating from the preapproved questions, as well as calling Kaiser all sorts of names, in German, of course

Kaiser is used to this plenty, he's called himself all those things plenty, heard it from many more people, but Isagi is incensed at the scene, his German atp good enough to understand every word

he immediately gets up from where he's leaning against the wall, finds his place beside Kaiser, and gets on his Slursagi bag IN GERMAN

again, Kaiser couldn't care less about the paparazzo, and was already signaling security to pull the dude out for disrupting the press conference when Isagi was making his way onstage, before, well, Slursagi engaged, locked and loaded with all the slurs he could remember and plenty more he made up in the five seconds it took him to get to the center of the room, giving zero fucks about his own reputation as golden boy, heart of Blue Lock, whatever

now, while this dude is basically peeing his pants from the verbal lashing Isagi is giving him, plus the legal action he's threatening, Kaiser is in true crisis mode, bc 'omfg, this is why i didn't want u to learn German. save me from this menace of man. scratch that, i'm right where i'm meant to be. but did he really have to do this in front of everyone? did this really have to be the way i found out? ness, i'm gonna kill you. i know you knew about this and you didn't fucking warn me. how dare you. i cannot be going into subspace during a fucking press conference. plz plz plz let this be over soon. i'm dying rn. omg, omg, omg, he's so fucking hot, his voice is so pretty and gravel-y, his accent is so smooth, save me. Yoichi, i'm gonna kill you for doing this to me in public. fuck that, let's seriously gtfo of here. like, rn'

luckily for Kaiser, that is basically the end of the press conference because their pr manager is like, 'even if it's for a teammate, we cannot have someone flying off the handle at the media like this'

so Kaiser and Isagi get to go off alone, at which point Isagi notices that Kaiser is unusually quiet, and is like 'what's wrong? if it's about what that dimwit said, obviously he's fucking wrong, he doesn't know anything about you and certainly has no right to be accusing you of shit when he can't even get his facts straight. actually, this whole media circus is just plain ridiculous. you were framed, like what the fuck? & u didn't that awful sperm donor of yours get arrested right then and there for literally hitting a child right in front of the police????' and he keeps going on this tangent, all still in German

Kaiser's still quiet, hoping Isagi will just shut up already because the German is really getting to him, when he finally can't take it anymore and whines, fucking whines, immediately stopping Isagi in his tracks

Isagi's all like, 'shit, i got too caught up in getting pissed with the situation, i gotta be paying attention to my sub. babe, what's wrong? do you wanna go back home?' (yes, Isagi moved in immediately when he got to Germany, Kaiser insisted)

Kaiser nods, and they race back

Isagi sets Kaiser on the couch and goes to fetch him water and a weighted blanket, still thinking that he's bothered by the paparazzo poking at old scars

instead, when Isagi gets back, he hears Kaiser muttering under his breath 'i knew this was gonna happen. shit. i knew this was gonna happen. i should've told him beforehand. so fucking embarrassing. and in public, too. no, actually, fuck Ness for never telling me about this. i know for a fact he knew. and that cyan ultra-sadist asshole. i'm sure he was in on it too. i'm gonna kill them both, then everyone else, then Yoichi, then myself. stupid, stupid, stupid body, getting conditioned on his stupid voice, what the fuck is wrong with me? his voice? are you kidding? no, no, no, this cannot be real. Michael, get a grip, you can't seriously just drop like this. not because of Yoichi's stupid, stupid voice-' before breaking off when he realizes that Isagi has come back, 'SHIT'

Isagi's like, 'wait, what do you mean my voice?' still ever so infuriatingly in German

'THAT, you fucking idiot!! stop it! stop talking in German! i fucking knew this was gonna happen, stupid, stupid Yoichi getting me conditioned to your stupid voice!!!' Kaiser spits out, his voice getting louder as he feels increasingly embarrassed by the situation he's found himself in.

'stop talking... in German? what's wrong with my German?' finally flipping back to English, and Isagi finally gets the memo, a sly smirk spreading on his face, 'Oooh. I see someone likes me speaking in German, is that what? is that why u didn't want me learning it? because i turned u on, because i made u feel safe? you should've told me, Mihya'

'AS fucking IF!!! clearly, my opinion or not, you'd learn the language. if i had told you, you'd only do that faster and use it against me! i know you, you asshole! you stupid dom!' Kaiser flusters

'of course, i would' Isagi responds smoothly, 'but i'd also make you feel so much better, wouldn't i?'

Kaiser gapes at his audacity, blustering a 'you- you fucking- shut up! no way! you stupid dom! what are you on about?! there's no w-'

'want to test that, baby? komm her, mein schöner Kaiser' (come here, my lovely emperor/beautiful Kaiser)

or, alternative ending (the original one, before i sat down and typed out the idea):

Kaiser immediately flushes when Isagi starts speaking German in the press conference room, shoots a quick glare at their PR manager to clean up this mess, and drags Isagi out of the room by the ear

'ow, ow, ow. what's up with that, Kaiser? i was just getting to the good part. he fucking deserved that for-' Isagi immediately switches back into Japanese, still ranting

'shut up! u dumb dom! what do u think u were doing out there?' Kaiser grills, slowly recovering from the shock of hearing Isagi's German

'huh? that dude was a fucking asshole; he needed a talking to!' Isagi insisted, not at all understanding what the issue was.

'not that! the German! what was up with that? when did u learn German behind my back??' Kaiser fumes

'huh, the German? oh, i just thought i might need it if no one was around to help me speak. what's wrong?' Isagi answers, still entirely oblivious

Kaiser drags a hand down his face as he tries to compose himself again. he opens his mouth, 'what's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG???? what's wrong is i nearly dropped in subspace because of it, you asshole!!'

'you- what? wait, because i spoke German?' Isagi burst out laughing 'no fucking way, is that why you didn't want to help me with it? because you knew how you'd react?'

'shut up! you trained my body into this, u fucking idiot! this is all because of you! it was already bad enough when you started learning English, you just had to go and learn German, too!' Kaiser twisted Isagi's ear harder

'ow, ow, ow. alright, alright. i'll stop teasing you, just stop being mad at me. lass es mich wiedergutmachen, ja?' Isagi purrs, pulling Kaiser in by the waist. (let me make it up to you, yeah?)

omake:

the following morning, before training:

Kaiser and Isagi walk into the locker room. them pulling off their shirts reveal a battleground, like they had been mauled by dogs

Hiori snorts, 'so what did it, hmm?' elbowing Isagi's side, eyebrows raising and smile widening in a knowing look 'was it the defending his honor, or the German?'

'wait! you knew?' Isagi shakes his head 'no, of course, you did. i just don't know how.'

Hiori smiles wider, waiting for him to continue

'the German, of course, though i don't know how you knew when i only just found out.'

Hiori giggles, and responds 'oh, Ness told me! apparently, Kaiser had the same reaction when we all started learning English!'

In the background:

'oh, shit! gotta run!!! how could you throw me under the bus like that, you ultra-sadist!'

'NNNEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! i'm gonna kill you!!!!'

Hiori whistles, 'what a great day today is. i'm gonna be raking in the cash today.'

[aceofturtles]

DEAD!

Gif of Charles I made for the Brats Having SEx Gift Exchange. For @alexwilltellyouthings <3<3<3 (love you alex)

Link to work on AO3 HERE.

Here are a few of my favorite frames from it. {:

EDIT

Someone asked for the stills! {:

Links to Part I and Part II of the individual frames.