#originally this was supposed to be in chat form but i got overwhelmed so i chose to suffer taking these scenes lol

[eljeebee]

First Week of School

“What’s up?”

“Hey, Lou!”

“How’s uni?”

“Good. We’re in the commons doing our presentations.”

“Oh, you’re busy? I can call later?” Mason hesitantly said.

“Nah, nah, you’re fine Mace. Just giving my head a break. How’s high school?”

“Cool! I made new friends – Kali Rankin and Arvin Covey. Kali’s from the drama club,” Mason rambled.

“And Arvin’s from cheerleading. They’re actually trying to recruit me – I don’t know what to choose though.”

“Awww. My baby brother is making friends already!” Louie teasingly cooed.

“Stop it dude…” Mason grumbled, making Louie laugh.

Louie finally said, “Mace, join any club you’re comfortable with.”

“Like the chess team?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I kinda wanna try drama…”

“Then try it!”

A beat of silence. Mason also wanted to tell his brother about Arvin. About how he can’t take his eyes off him – is this what they call a crush? What is this? Crush at first sight? He decided to leave it out when he relayed to him his weekend plans.

“Arvin wanna invite us this weekend to his house. He lives in San Myshuno in an apartment and his family owns it! Remember the building beside the karaoke bar we went to last winter? Apparently, that’s them!”

“Haha, ain’t this a small world? Did you ask Mama and Papa?”

“Yeah, I did. They said yes as long as I get home before five.”

“Great. Do you want me to go with?” Louie teased again.

“Bro?? I’m not a baby!”

Louie let out another laugh. Mason suddenly thought of something.

“Is Sid with you?” He asked.

“Yup!”

“Is she doing something?”

“The presentation. Want me to call her? Hold o – ”

“Is she busy? You don’t have to! I can text her later.”

“Oh, alright. I can tell it to her?”

“No!” Mason felt his chest beating fast. “It’s a secret.”

“You guys are keeping me in the dark again, huh?” Louie teased.

Mason chuckled. “I guess. Anyway, you should go back to your work. And I have a game with Kali too. Thanks for the chat. Love you bro.”

“Love you too. Tell Mama and Papa I said hi, okay?”

“I will.”

Beep.

Louie returned to his presentation. Sid asked him, “Was that Mace?”

“Yup. Just a quick chat about his school day. He said he made friends.”

“Aww, that’s cute! You know, we’ve never properly met Mason yet. When are you going to introduce us again?” Julie asked.

“Not around Bernie, though. He was intimidated by him.” Seamus shook his head.

Everyone let out a chuckle. Louie said, “I think he can handle Mr. Braxton now. He’s not a kid anymore after all.”

Kali Rankin was made by @cowplant-snacks from their Teen Townie Dump <3

[yandere-randomfandom]

Theraprism!Bill Cipher & GoLB!Reader

[DRABBLE] had a chat w my friend abt Golb from Adventure Time, and with the stronger-than-bill godly reader fics here rn, i got this idea! although this isn't romance, just pure mockery between cosmic beings

∆

You smiled. His bulging eye narrowed in return.

"Oh, Billy, you never fail to look just like your parents when you're at your worst."

He grew drastically larger in size, overwhelmed with rage and hatred, but the white room only limits him from becoming his full potential. The red color that dominated his body overpowered any other light, and Bill Cipher truly, desperately hated that fact.

As an embodiment of chaos and destruction, you oversee every detail, even the smallest speck, within your domain. Though, who's to say that everything already isn't within you?

And, of course... This guy?

"When they said I had a special guest today, I didn't expect it to be you, GOLB," he seethed, jabbing a finger at the glass separating you two. The action didn't really mean much when his enormous, glowing eye was taking the entirety of your vision.

"So, what? You came here to mock me? Aren't you supposed to be out destroying universes or something?"

Your smile widened. "Who said I wasn't?"

Bill paused, falling silent as he shrank back to his original size. His red hue turned yellow. Shame. He looked best when he was his father's color.

...

"Well, shucks," he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose I should feel honored you’re here. Never realized I’d caught your attention, you freak."

"Always have. Especially after that little fiasco back on earth," you mused, a chuckle escaping your mouth. "I just came by to see how you're doing. You don't look so hot, Bill Cipher."

"Ugh, what, are you about to lecture me on how a human beat me?" he sneered as he crossed his arms. "Because I promise you he didn't—"

"Humans... are peculiar," you interrupted his rant early. Apparently, he didn't appreciate that and glared at you. "They have something we otherworldly beings don't. You know, if I had the choice, I'd choose to be human."

Bill sighed rather dramatically. "All those sappy feelings and weak bodies? You should be glad we don't have that. It's stupid, just dumb!"

To his surprise, you stood up. Well, being an entity like yourself, your time is strict. He's lucky enough he got to talk to you.

"Of course you would say that," you chided, meeting his gaze. The glowing crack on his body intensified in response. "And, yet, the Pines family defeated you using only their bond."

He doesn't reply.

"...I'm just saying that I miss Earth, my home. If I had known you actually had any chance of succeeding, I would have destroyed you already."

...

"Anyway, good talk. It was a pleasure to meet you," you remarked, bowing your head.

Bill quietly stared at your leaving human form. You are the ultimate disrespect Bill has ever encountered in his lifetime.

Right next to Stanley Pines.

∆

BONUS:

The axolotl blinked at you. "Being kinder to Bill was an option. We're trying to better him, after all."

You shrugged. "Look, Gills, I don't know the future, but what I do know is that I haven't met a being like him in a long, long time."

Bill Cipher is a stupid pest who got his powers from his own mistakes. Now, he chases over nothing.

if u dunno em, this is OG golb from adventure time! erm golb looking like a baby but feel free to change how u look like lol, we have imagination!!

just gonna outright say it,,, GOLB!reader used to be human! Just like Golbetty!!!

DEAREST WRITERS, IF YOU LIKE THE IDEA OF GOLB!READER, FEEL FREE TO MAKE YOUR OWN VERSION TOO!!! GIVE US FOOD PLS PLS AND TAG ME 👉👈

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 116, Replies Part 1

1) “Last time we went Attack on Time I suppose. And koichi got crushed but of course ha hasn’t since there’s still 5 chapters to go. So, join me in finding out what things Furuhashi will subject me to, on Chapter 116: In Darkness”- In darkness, the light shines strongest…which makes me realise that light-emission is also apparently a power type that Koichi’s Do-Anything Quirk can achieve. Glow-In-The-Dark knuckles of justice.

2) “Yeah don’t worry about Koichi, this will be solved in a few instants. You have more pressing matters after that, like the giant kaiju trying to step on you”- Also the actual roof literally pressing down on him…. which didn’t actually even work, Nomura just knocked Koichi into like a sub-basement or such and left him buried alive. Practical, the form ain’t. 3) “And there’s our cover page

…

And I’m starting to get worried that shooting star is actually All Might making his way here.”- Nah, the star is Koichi, rising out of the darkness of his master’s shadow to become his own ultimate self, capable of facing threats that overwhelmed Knuckles twice over now, despite his best attempts at bullshitting a fool-proof attack strategy. 4) “Yeah, if only we had pro heroes in the scene, put apparently they don’t work as fast as the media.”- In a world with daily rampages that smash highways and disrupt order, news has to move faster than Koichi to keep up with the latest shocking announcements. 5) “Take shelter where exactly? That fucker is demolishing the buildings!”- The issues with a Kaiju Rampage. “Stay still” and “seek shelter” are equally risky choices, and you have to leave it up to luck in the end. 6) "? Will they? because we have like, four pro heroes that could solve this currently on the scene, and they aren’t doing anything.

And it’s not like they don’t know there’s a giant destroying things, they can see it quite easily, three out of them can climb buildings.”- This is about the point wherein Furuhashi really should have gone with original heroes to have around for these climatic events, because it’s be more plausible for them to be incapacitated/dead or whatever from Nomura’s bombings, rather than alive due to future plot, and sitting around on their butts doing fuck-all to fight the rampaging, brightly-illuminated villain. 7) “Another tuesday night in the neighborhood.”- Another factor is that ordinary civilians really shouldn’t be this tense and nervous just because it’s a little darker than usual in the villain battle. Years of constant chaotic fighting in the streets should have immunised them to the threat Nomura’s posing, but instead they’re acting like this is the first time any of them have encountered such a massive destructive villain, ever. 8) “oh no okay, not a flashback, it’s just koichi having a near-death experience. Carry on.”- An ongoing near-death experience, such that he can have an entire conversation with his apparently-actually-dead master and still have him sticking around when he emerges to fight Nomura head-on at last. 9) “Yeah Koichi, you’re experiencing something called “getting his shit kicked in fore real”, don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal, all shonen protagonists go through it”- It’s honestly impressive that Koichi lasted this long without yet getting beaten into a bloody mess. Izuku did it to himself by the end of like chapter 3. 10) “No, not God, seems like Knuckles is astral-projecting into Koichi’s near-death experience to give him a peptalk”-He’s having a roadside chat with Koichi on his own way out whilst shuffling off the mortal coil. 11) “This does not contradict Koichi’s statement that he never saw Knuckles again, I can hear someone screaming already”- Technically, not physically so – and in any case Koichi seems to think he’s having a massive near-death hallucination, so he likely brushed it off. Still, the fact that Koichi made it clear they never did meet again has been a massive weight around the narrative’s neck for a while now, amongst others. 12) “I mean, when hasn’t he got out of a pickle by the divine powers of bullshit?”- He even unlocks an invincibility full-body power-up just to properly face Nomura’s overwhelming might now, when he’s at the verge of his body giving in and one more good hit will cause him to bleed out.

13) “DAMMIT KNUCKLES YOU CAN’T HELP BUT BE A LITTLE SHIT ONCE BEFORE YOU DIE, RIGHT?”- Knuckles’ go-to tactic when dealing with a problem he can’t immediately punch into submission is to figure out what he can’t do on his own, and then reason out a means of working around that to be able to solve the problem anyway. It’s a shame he never passed that trait onto Koichi, because it’s basically the same thing Izuku does whenever he’s faced with new abilities or people in danger, and allows the user to be extremely flexible and creative in a fight.

14) “don’t worry, I bet his next step is gonna be producing light

WAIT, IS THIS HIS IMAGINATION OR NOT”- That dramatic shadow cast on the dust cloud didn’t come from Koichi standing over the only working lightbulb left in the building.

15) “It’s not like you ever did much to train him anyway Knuckles. Can’t see your ghost start doing that now.”- Koichi wound up getting more training and mentor-like oversight from Soga than he ever did from Knuckles. 16) “Now Koichi, this is not the time to get self-aware.Also, good job practicing that, considering all the broken bones in your body right now.”- And yet ironically, his newest power-up makes all of that training completely useless, giving Koichi the ability to defy gravity all over his body and reject any hard impact away from himself. @thelreads

[fridayfirefly]

Two Birds [Part Two]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

For Maribat March Day 31 - Reunion

The school trip to Gotham was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a reward to the class, a celebration of the recent defeat of Hawkmoth by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette wanted to celebrate. She really didn't want to cry on the trip. Yet, as the plane touched down in Gotham, Marinette was staring out the plane window at the rain and the setting sun, rubbing her eyes, trying her best to brush away the tears before they formed.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Alya looked over at Marinette, concern visible on her face.

Marinette nodded weakly, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I have some bad memories associated with Gotham. One of my childhood friends... his parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham and I lost contact with him after that. It's always been a very raw subject for me."

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Lila leaned across the aisle to interrupt the conversation. "Your childhood friend's parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham? It's okay to admit that you're scared of Gotham because of the supervillains. You don't have to come up with some outlandish story for why you're upset."

Marinette glared over at Lila, her eyes shiny from both her tears and her anger. "I wasn't talking to you, Lila, but for your information, I'm not making up a story. I wouldn't lie about the death of my friend's parents. I hate liars."

Lila flinched back, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could tell the truth. We wouldn't judge you for it."

Alya frowned, giving Lila a stern look. "Lila, Marinette is seriously upset. I don't think that this is the right time to lecture her."

"Oh, of course." As soon as Alya turned away from her, Lila's expression was murderous. Marinette could care less. She turned away and ignored Lila, not in the mood to deal with the liar's taunts. If she could just hold back her tears until they got off the plane, maybe she could pretend that it was the rain that was making her face wet.

It took an hour to get from the plane to the hotel room, and that hour was torture for Marinette, who spent the entire journey holding back tears. As soon as Alya shut the door to their hotel room with a click, Marinette finally let herself cry, curling up into a ball on the hotel bed.

Marinette felt Alya wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I've got you, Marinette. It'll be okay."

Marinette didn't know how long she cried for. All she knew was that when the tears finally stopped, the sky had gone dark outside. "What time is it?"

"It's a little past eight. I texted Nino to tell Ms. Bustier that you weren't feeling well, so she won't be bothering you with any class president duties tonight."

"Thanks." Marinette shifted herself from lying on her side to sitting up. "Have I ever told you what happened to Dick?"

Alya shook her head. "You've mentioned him a few times, but only that you two were friends when you were younger, and then lost touch."

Marinette sighed. "It all started when I was nine years old. My Grandma Gina was babysitting me for the weekend. She was old friends with the ringmaster of a circus that was in Paris, so she took me there to stay the weekend. That was where I met Dick and his parents..."

Marinette told the story in bursts, stopping to cry every few minutes when she got too emotional to continue. "...And I never spoke to him again after that. Gotham's foster care records aren't open to the public, and I stopped myself from Googling his name a long time ago. It just hurts too much to get my hopes up."

Alya wrapped Marinette up in another hug. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to make this better."

"I think this trip might be good for me. It hurts a lot now, but I think once it's over I might finally feel a little more at peace."

"I hope so. But if there's ever any time where you need to just stop and let it all out, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya was Marinette's best friend, even if Alya was friends with Lila as well. That was Marinette's one regret - when she unmasked Hawkmoth and Mayura as Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancour, there was no way to unmask Lila as a liar as well. Gabriel refused to name Lila as an accomplice, aware that admitting to having manipulated a teen girl into performing acts of terrorism wouldn't look good for him. So Lila was free to continue her reign of terror, though at least now Marinette could be rightfully angry with her, without fear of being akumatized.

----------

The class trip was partially sponsored by the Wayne Scholarship Foundation. Usually, the Wayne Scholarship Foundation only awarded scholarships, given to students all across America to pay for college, but after Hawkmoth's defeat and the media coverage that followed, a rather large sum was awarded to Marinette’s class for their bravery on the front lines of Hawkmoths' attacks. The Wayne Foundation organized tours and shows for them all over the city, starting with a tour of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens bright and early on the first morning of their trip. Then the class would go on a walking tour of Gotham during the afternoon, ending at a high-end sushi restaurant for dinner, followed by a night exploring East Hills Park during one of their famous firework shows. The late May day promised to be warm and sunny, so Marinette put on her favorite red floral sundress with a jean jacket overtop to hide the thin spaghetti straps, and sturdy tennis shoes to handle all of the walking she would be doing.

"Marinette!" gasped Lila as soon as Alya and Marinette walked into the main lobby. "Are you sure that your outfit is dress-code approved?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lila. With my jacket on, this fits the dress code. I wouldn't make something that I can't wear."

"Okay. I was just checking. Your dress seemed a little too short to me, but I guess I just prefer something more modest."

As Lila walked away, Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure Lila didn't mean to come off as slut-shaming. I think she's just lashing out because wants to make sure you don't get in trouble for your outfit." Even Alya sounded uncertain of her explanation, as not even she believed herself. Without the support of Hawkmoth, Lila was no longer a cunning and calculated mastermind of manipulation. Now she was just a scared bully, desperately doing whatever she could to maintain her power over the class.

"Whatever," Marinette sighed. "I won't let her ruin my trip."

"That's the spirit. Besides, anyone with taste would know that your outfit looks super cute.”

Marinette smirked. "Are you saying that you don't think Lila has taste?"

"Definitely not as much taste as you. You're the Queen of Fashion Trends. You always look good." Alya put her arm around Marinette's shoulder. "Plus, you know better than to wear cowboy boots to school."

Marinette giggled as she remembered the incident. Lila came to school showing off her 'authentic' cowboy boots from America, seemingly unaware that they were the ugliest shoes anyone in their class had ever seen.

"You'll have a great day today, I promise." Alya walked with Marinette to the bus waiting outside. They got a seat up near the front, by Nino and Adrien.

Adrien had been the most affected by Hawkmoth's unmasking, given that it revealed his Father as a terrorist and his Mother as a coma-patient. All seemed lost for Adrien, as a team of Paris's best doctors revealed that Emilie Agreste was braid-dead. They planned on pulling the plug on Emilie's life support until, Amelie Graham de Vanily revealed that by combining the twin rings she and her sister owned with Ladybug's power of creation, together they had the power to bring Emilie back to life. Marinette was skeptical, after all, Amelie seemed to have ulterior motives in everything she did, but how could Marinette refuse when it was the only thing that she could do to help Adrien. In the end, she decided to help, no matter the consequences. Miraculously, it worked. Emilie was brought back to life and Adrien had a mother again.

However, in the aftermath of her decision, Marinette realized one crucial detail. In all of the chaos of deciding whether or not to work with Amelie, when she based her final decision on Adrien, she did it because he was her friend, not because he was her crush. At that moment, she realized that the overwhelming crush she had on Adrien since the age of thirteen had faded. In its place was a beautiful friendship.

"Good morning," chirped Adrien.

"What's up, dudes?" chimed in Nino.

"I can't believe we're here in Gotham. I thought our class trip to London was cool, but this is just incredible. I can't believe that the Wayne Foundation organized all of this for us," Alya gushed.

Marinette smiled. She knew that her friends deserved the vacation. Alya, Nino, and Adrien (though his involvement as Aspik was brief) all helped in the fight against Hawkmoth, even though they never revealed their superhero identities to each other. "What are you all most excited about?"

"I can't wait to see the Superhero Museum," said Alya. "I can't believe we were invited to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the new exhibition."

"It is a celebration of the defeat of Hawkmoth. I suppose they wanted some real Parisians there to see it."

"I'm excited for Super: an American Musical, with the original cast. Did you guys know that this is their last week in Gotham before the show starts on Broadway!" Nino cheered.

Marinette smiled. "That is cool. I've heard that it's a fan favorite to win a Tony this year."

When all eyes landed on Adrien to answer the question, he shrugged. "I just want to experience everything. And take a lot of pictures. I promised my Mom that I would send her some."

"How about we take one now?" Marinette suggested.

Adrien nodded and the group of friends squeezed together to take a selfie.

"How about you, Marinette?"

"The Wayne Foundation Fundraising Gala," Marinette answered promptly. "It's one of the most influential events in fashion. I've heard that celebrities wear their second-best outfits to the Met Gala and save their best for the Wayne Gala. I know that the Wayne Foundation is paying for a shopping trip to pick out an outfit for the Gala, but I made my dress own and brought it here."

Alya laughed. "I should have guessed."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't resist. This is the first opportunity I've had to wear my newest creation."

"Do you have pictures of it?" asked Adrien.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not showing anyone until the Gala. I'm keeping it safe in my room. I don't want to jinx anything."

"Hawkmoth is gone. We're in Gotham, living it up. Life is good." Alya summarized, and the whole group chimed in their agreement. Life was good.

----------

"Is everything in this city named after the Waynes?" asked Nino as they stepped off the bus in from of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens.

"The Waynes are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Gotham. When you're that rich, life is just a game of buying your name onto as many buildings as possible," Adrien answered.

"The Waynes and their extraordinary money are the reason why we're here, so I'm willing to forgo making fun of everything they put their name on," Alya decided.

Once they got through the doors to the Botanical Garden, Marinette was entranced. Flowers of every shade surrounded her, the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves was the only thing she could hear, the smell of pollen and fresh air filled her lungs. It was heavenly.

"I'm Olivia, but you can all call me Liv," spoke the blonde tour guide as she approached the class. "I'll be giving you a tour of the Botanical Gardens, the largest sanctuary for endangered plants in New Jersey. We're known especially for our orchid garden, which we'll walk through at the end of our tour."

As the tour continued, Marinette noticed that one hallway was blocked off by a sign reading: Hydrangea Exhibition Coming This Fall.

Liv pointed out the hallway. "Down that hallway is the upcoming Hydrangea Exhibition, which is replacing the old New Jersey Wildflower exhibit. Now, I know you're all from out of town, but if you're even in Gotham again, make sure you check out the Botanical Gardens. We're always getting new exhibits-"

Liv was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. One of the panes of glass making up the room had been shattered, and shards rained down on screaming tourists. Marinette's eyes widened as she recognized Poison Ivy, lowering herself through the now opened ceiling on her vines. "You thought you could destroy the native vegetation of this city and get away with it? Nothing escapes my notice. Now, I would like to have a little chat with whoever's in charge here."

Liv motioned for all the students to get down, whispering, "As long as we stay out of Poison Ivy's way, we'll be perfectly fine. Just stay calm and stay quiet."

Marinette watched as the Director of the Botanical Gardens came out to reason with Poison Ivy. He pleaded with the villain, "We won't destroy any of the wildflower gardens, I swear. I'll make sure myself that the wildflower exhibit will be moved to public parks all across Gotham."

Poison Ivy shook her head. "That's not good enough. You think you can wash your hands of these flowers so long as someone else offers to take them? How long do you think the wildflower gardens will last without any sort of protection?"

"We'll make sure that the gardens are protected, I promise."

Narrowing her eyes, Poison Ivy gave the Director a cruel smile. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Joseph Hoffman of 524 Shelton Avenue, that nothing happens to those flowers. Otherwise..." Poison Ivy let the threat hang in the air, using her vines to ascend back up to the ceiling.

The next few moments were so chaotic and full of movement that Marinette couldn't quite piece together what had happened. All she knew was that one second Poison Ivy was leaving the way she came and the next second, Batman and Robin were facing her down in the middle of the Botanical Gardens.

"Oh, hello Batman, Robin. It's so nice to see you. I was just leaving though, so unless you want to fight me where all these plants - and civilians, I suppose - could get hurt, I would step out of my way."

"Poison Ivy, we both know that I can't just let you go free after you threatened this man's life."

Poison Ivy sighed dramatically. "Oh well, I gave you a chance. Now it looks like I'll have to start getting civilians involved. The villain's eyes panned over the room, her eyes just happening to make contact with Marinette's for a split second before Marinette looked away. But that split second was enough. Marinette felt vines start to wrap around her forearms, yanking her forward.

Marinette was pulled all the way over to Poison Ivy, Batman, and Robin, until she was stopped in between the villain and heroes. "What's your name?" Poison Ivy asked, a menacing smile on her face.

"M-Marinette," she stuttered out, eyes wide.

Batman's expression was stoic and unyielding, while Robin looked at her with wide, stunned eyes. Batman spoke, "Why don't we move this outside where no one - plants or civilians - will get hurt."

Poison Ivy nodded. "I will require a head start, though, so I'll keep my vines wrapped around Marinette's throat. As soon as I'm out of range the vines will go slack and she'll be able to go on with her day. However, if you start to come after me before then, I'll tighten my vines and poor little Marinette might not make it."

Marinette stiffened as the vines grew around her throat, just loose enough for her to take shallow breaths. Poison Ivy disappeared from view, but Marinette continued to stay perfectly still, desperately trying to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. No one made a move toward Marinette, no one willing to risk the consequences of making a move while Poison Ivy could still control the vines.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about five minutes, the vines relaxed and fell to the floor. Marinette collapsed to the ground, lowering herself into the seated position so she could breathe a little bit easier.

"Are you alright?" asked Robin, kneeling next to her. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"I'm okay. I didn't get hurt. I was just scared."

Robin got up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Why don't we get you back with the rest of your group. Are you here with your family?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm here on a school trip."

Robin walked Marinette over to her class, handing her off to Ms. Bustier, who let out a sigh of relief as she gently placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I know that was a very scary situation, Marinette. If you would like, I can take you and Alya back to the hotel."

"No way!" protested Marinette. "I didn't even get hurt. Plus, we have the walking tour of Gotham today. I don't want to miss it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Bustier glanced over toward Batman.

Batman joined the conversation, saying, "If Marinette prefers to continue her day as normal, then I would advise following Marinette's lead. Often, the best way to recover from an encounter with a villain is to go on with your life as normal."

Marinette nodded. "I want to stay with the rest of the class and go on with our day."

Ms. Bustier still looked hesitant but conceded anyway. "Alright. I think our tour of the Botanical Gardens is over, though. I doubt that they would let us continue, what with shattered glass all over the floors."

Liv led the group out of the building, commenting with a sigh, "It's a shame that Poison Ivy came and ruined the tour. The orchid garden is such an amazing exhibit, and now none of you will get to see it. Unless..." Liv glanced around. "There's no broken glass in the orchid garden, so I don't suppose why we couldn't leave the Botanical Garden through the side-exit past the orchid garden. What do you say, Marinette?"

Marinette smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

As the tour group turned to enter one of the hallways branching off of the main room, Marinette glanced behind her one last time. She made eye contact with Robin, who was watching her leave, an expression of wonder on his face. Marinette turned back around self-consciously rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't sure why Robin looked at her like that. It wasn't a look that one would give a stranger, and yet they had never met before. Marinette thought it was odd, but the thought was gone from her mind as soon as her class entered the orchid garden. I'm here in Gotham for a week to have fun, she reminded herself, so no more investigating every strange occurrence.

----------

The walking tour of Gotham was just as fun and informative as Marinette anticipated, packed with interesting facts and amazing sights. She got a bunch of high-quality pictures of Gotham, good for putting in the blog post that Marinette (as class president) was in charge of putting together to go on the school website. Best of all, Lila didn't bother her for the whole tour. Even Lila knew that she couldn't bully Marinette and get away with it, after what Marinette had been through the morning.

The sushi restaurant was amazing too. Marinette had eaten sushi a few times before, but never anything as high-quality as what was served in the restaurant. Marinette decided that if this was what a field trip funded by the Wayne Foundation was like, then she was incredibly excited for the week to come.

Aside from the unfortunate interruption at the Botanical Garden, the day was perfect. Yet, Marinette couldn't stop thinking about the strange look on Robin's face. Had she done something wrong? Was she really safe from Poison Ivy? The thoughts lingered in her head, pestering her every time she felt safe and content.

"Listen up, class!" called out Ms. Bustier. "You'll all have exactly two hours to explore East Hills Park. The firework show starts in approximately half an hour, and ends half an hour before you have to meet up here, which should give you plenty enough time."

Marinette followed Adrien, Alya, and Nino off the bus and into the park. The group of friends started to explore the park, stumbling upon the statues and fountains that were scattered about the grounds.

"I found another Wayne!" Nino shouted from a few meters away. "This statue was dedicated to Patrick Wayne, who was Mayor of Gotham City - this was before they changed the name to just Gotham - from 1896-1904. His most notable achievement from his time in office was that he built over thirty new schools and eleven new library buildings in the city. He was known for his dedication to educating the City of Gotham."

It had become an inside joke between the group to try and find as many things in Gotham named after the Waynes as they could. The task turned out to be much less difficult than they had anticipated, so the group quickly switched tactics and began looking up the various Waynes to see what they actually did with their lives, to determine whether they deserved their names on the various buildings and statues of Gotham.

"He actually sounds like he deserved a statue," said Adrien, looking down at his phone at the Wikipedia article he had pulled up. "Not like Augustus Wayne, who never had a job and gambled away nearly a quarter of the Wayne fortune, yet still has a bridge and a fountain in this park named after him."

Marinette chimed in, "My favorite is Georgiana Wayne. Apparently, a reporter was harassing her over the fact that she was a divorcee and Theodore Wayne was her second husband, and she told that reporter to, quote, 'Fuck off, you lousy son of a bitch. If my husband doesn't mind that I am a divorcee, I don't see why you should.'"

"I wonder if she has any statues in the park," said Alya.

"I doubt it. Her Wikipedia article is only four paragraphs long."

Alya frowned. "That's a shame. Augustus Wayne does nothing of importance with his life and gets a whole bridge named after him, but Georgiana Wayne is a total badass in the 1920s and gets nothing."

"We'll have to bring it up with Bruce Wayne at the fundraising Gala," joked Marinette.

"Good idea." Alya glanced down at her phone. "It's almost time for the fireworks show to start. According to the class groupchat, everyone is gathering on the south shore of the duck pond. There are benches there, and it should have a good view."

"I'll meet you guys there," said Marinette. "I just want to get a few more pictures before it gets too dark."

Marinette started taking pictures of the fountains and flowerbeds, wandering aimlessly through the park. She was busy getting the best angle to take a picture of a maple tree framed by the sunset when she bumped into someone walking behind her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Marinette began to apologize, but as soon as she recognized just who she bumped into she was at a loss for words. "Dick?"

"Marinette?" Dick's voice was deeper than Marinette remembered, yet still hauntingly familiar. His wide blue eyes stared into hers.

Marinette couldn't hold it together. She burst into tears, launching herself into his arms. "Dick, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your name on the news when they were reporting about Poison Ivy's vandalism at the Botanical Gardens. I did a little googling and found out about your class trip. It took a little digging into the Wayne Foundation website, but I found the approved itinerary for the trip and decided to track you down at East Hills Park. I knew I had to see you again."

"You did that for me?" Overhead the fireworks started going off, extravagant flashes of color that Marinette ignored completely. She couldn't tear her eyes off of Dick. When she imagined her reunion with him, she never really considered that he would be all grown up. No longer was Dick the twelve-year-old boy that Marinette remembered from her childhood. Dick was now five years older and sixteen inches taller.

"Of course I did. Marinette, I've missed you so much."

"I tried to get back in contact with you but Gotham's CPS refused to release any information to me. I kept calling and calling but they wouldn't tell me anything." The tears returned with a vengeance, and Marinette started to sob. "I gave up on finding you and I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame you. You have to know I don't blame you. It's me who should be apologizing. I could have tracked you down but I never did."

Marinette sniffled. "Why didn't you?"

"I was a coward." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Dick cut her off. "I was scared of losing another person I loved. I shut everyone out and by the time I was ready to let people in again, I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be a part of my life again."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Marinette.

"No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget you. It was stupid of me to think that I ever could in the first place. You were my best friend Marinette. You still are, if you'll have me."

Dick looked at her with such longing that Marinette knew she could never deny him. Her face softened. "Of course I will."

"Thank you." Dick held onto Marinette tighter.

Marinette closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. The fireworks show continued, bathing the park in beautiful colors, but Marinette felt no need to watch it. She knew that she already had the most beautiful thing in the park in her arms.

Taglist: @maribatmarch-2k21 @jayjayspixiepop @buginetye @ultimatetornshipper

[ashtheshortstack]

beautiful disaster - ch 2

Rating: M Ship: Kyoru Chapter 2/5: “I want to please you.” 

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Learning intimacy, Virgin Dorks, Post-Curse, Manga/Anime Spoilers

Tohru was floating the rest of the evening. There were so many times she had to hide her smile while cooking dinner. Never before had she experienced something like that. Something so… she didn’t even have a word for it. Nice? Pleasurable? Her body had been so warm and tingly from Kyo’s touching and exploration. 

Of course, Tohru knew how sex worked. She was a bit dense, she could admit, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d read books. And Kyoko had explained to her once her period started what it meant to be a woman. The birds and the bees talk had confused her to no end at first, but she eventually understood. Her mother had found her innocence through the conversation to be humorous, laughing behind her palm as she explained how babies were created to her teen. 

Granted, Tohru hadn’t really thought she’d fall in love. Her mother had always been her top priority… the most important person in her life. The one she loved the most. Tohru could never have imagined abandoning her to be with someone else. Even after Kyoko passed, all she could focus on was achieving the goals she and her mother had set for her. Tohru wanted to work. Wanted to earn her way in the world. That’s what they had agreed upon. 

But Kyo changed all of that. Kyo opened her world up to so many more things. Of course, she had planned to find a job when they moved. It would be a little different from the original plan, but not too much. Having Kyo by her side made it better. Made her feel whole. 

Tohru felt her cheeks heat as she thought of their encounter again. She tried to focus on stirring the stew, but her mind kept wandering elsewhere. Into uncharted territory. She never knew just being touched could set her skin ablaze. Could overwhelm her and make her heart pound. The pleasurable feelings that had coursed through her were unexplainable. Would Kyo feel like that if she gave him the same treatment? She wanted to. Kyo deserved to feel those things too. He deserved everything…

“Honda? Are you feeling well?” 

Tohru yelped when Yuki’s voice suddenly yanked her from her thoughts. “I-I’m fine!” 

“Are you sure? Your face is flushed.” 

Panicked, she touched her cheeks. “I-Is it? It must be from the hot stew! Can you watch it for a moment Yuki-kun? I-I’ll be right back!” she sprinted out of the kitchen quickly before slamming the bathroom door behind her. 

She quickly splashed cold water on her face. Breathe. Breathe.  

There was a knock. 

“Tohru? You okay?” came Kyo’s voice from the other side. 

Swallowing, she nodded. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. J-Just needed some cold water.” 

When she opened the door, Kyo was there with a concerned look etched on his features. “I-If earlier was too much for you we don’t have to--” 

“No!” 

Blinking, his cheeks flushed as he stared at her stunned. “What?” 

“I want to. I want to do that again.” 

Kyo swallowed thickly before giving her a tiny nod. “Okay,” he murmured and leaned in to give her a small peck on the forehead. They stayed like that for a moment, Tohru leaving her forehead resting against his chin. The affection he showed her was always comforting. 

The sound of Yuki clearing his throat sent them flying apart. 

“S-Sorry!” she screeched before zipping past both of the boys and back to the stove. 

She needed to calm down. She had to calm down. 

If Yuki suspected anything, he didn’t act like it at dinner. Thankfully. Tohru was grateful he wouldn’t call her out on the public displays of affection. The last thing she wanted was to make Yuki uncomfortable in any way. 

When she finally retreated to her room for the evening, she quickly changed into her pajamas and slipped into the covers of her bed. She snuggled into the warmth, letting the memories from earlier in the day sweep through her thoughts. Tohru rolled onto her back, touching her lips with a small smile, remembering how tender and heated the kisses were that she and Kyo shared. She wanted that again. 

Suddenly, she was very excited for their alone time after school tomorrow. 

  Kyo seemed jittery the following day. She understood… Tohru felt a buzz floating through her as well. The feeling of being with him was addicting. She had already wanted to touch him all the time. Always be close to him, lean on him, hold his hand. But after the day prior, there was so much more of that desire. 

She didn’t know the new feeling was noticeable until Ou-chan pointed it out. 

“Hey, Tohru. You alright? You seem even spacier than usual today.” 

Blinking, Tohru looked up from her desk. “Oh! Um. I’m fine!” 

Ou-chan gave her a look, cocking a brow. “This doesn’t have to do with the fact you and Carrots were home alone yesterday, does it?” 

“Oh my, well this is news,” Hana-chan mused. 

Tohru gave a frantic wave of her hands. “N-No! It’s not!” 

“Hey,” Ou-chan bent down in front of her desk. “There’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I just wanted to know what was up. You can talk to us about it, you know. There’s no judgement here. I just want to help you out.” 

“Are… Are you sure?” 

Hana-chan took her hands. “Of course, Tohru. We want to help you through your first relationship before you leave us.” 

“And if Carrots does anything we don’t like… we can rough him up a bit,” Ou-chan grinned with a crack of her knuckle. 

“O-Oh, um, please don’t,” Tohru murmured as she felt her cheeks heat. 

Ou-chan chuckled and patted her on the head. “Ah, don’t worry. We won’t hurt him too badly.” 

Tohru knew Ou-chan was teasing… but part of her thought she might have been serious. She hoped her best friends didn’t actually beat up her boyfriend for anything. 

“So,” Hana-chan said as she took a seat. “What’s been going on?” 

Feeling the flush on her cheeks, Tohru glanced away as she tapped her lip. “I-It wasn’t much. We--We didn’t, um…” she trailed off. How on earth was she supposed to talk about this? 

Ou-chan smirked. “Things were just a little handsy?” 

Tohru bristled at that. “Uh! Maybe!” 

“Did you touch him?” Hana-chan asked, stoic as ever. How could she ask such a thing so easily?

Shaking her head, she fiddled with her thumbs. “Um, no, actually. Yuki-kun got home so I needed to start on dinner so we… yeah.” 

Ou-chan smiled. “Did he make you feel good?” 

“Yes,” she squeaked. 

Ou-chan stood, stretching a bit. “Then that’s all I needed to know,” she stated before taking her seat. 

Tohru felt her brain frazzle from the interrogation she just received. Kyo was busy chatting it up with his fellow classmates, so she silently prayed he hadn’t caught any wind of the conversation between her and her best friends. That would be so embarrassing! Maybe, that’s what he meant yesterday about girl talk. Would Kyo be uncomfortable if she told Ou-chan and Hana-chan what they did? Maybe she should ask him? 

  As she and Kyo walked hand in hand back home, anticipation bubbled through her. She was so nervous. She didn’t know what to do. What they had done before was rather spontaneous. Would it be different now that they were expecting something to happen between them? 

“Hey,” Kyo’s voice distracted her from her worries as she looked up at him. Clearing his throat, she could see the light flush on his cheeks. “Ya don’t need to worry about us-- doin ’ anything if you don’t want to. Yesterday was really, uh, a surprise for both of us, I guess. I don’t want you thinking that just because we both want to do that again doesn’t mean we have to, ya know?” 

Tohru had never seen him talk quite so fast. Or so rambly either. She appreciated his worry. And it always amazed her how Kyo could read her like a book. How he always knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling or planning. 

“I-I know. But I’m okay. I want to.” 

“Really? You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

His cheeks flushed at her admission. Tohru watched him as he swallowed hard, just as nervous and jittery as she was. Clearly, neither of them had a clue as to what they were doing. Or what they would do when they got home. But Tohru couldn’t help the bubbling excitement of anticipation inside her stomach. Her heart fluttered, chest tight. She wanted this. Wanted to be with him more than anything. Yesterday, she’d given Kyo her word that she’d take care of him. That it’d be his turn. And Tohru had every intention of seeing that promise through. 

  They were on her bed that day. Probably the better option considering that her bed was much bigger than his futon. Kyo hovered over her, his lips melding with hers. Kissing Kyo lit a new fire inside her she hadn’t even known existed. Tohru didn’t know how to want someone. How to desire another person like she did Kyo. There was a pounding heartbeat in her ears that throbbed throughout her veins. The only thoughts her brain could form were about him. How nice he smelled, how soft his lips were, how gentle his hand was on her hip. 

Kyo flattened his body against hers, and Tohru nearly swooned. The feeling of him pressed against her still took so much getting used to. For so long, she was unable to touch him like this. To feel his chest pressed against hers. And now she only wanted it more. The thought was selfish and greedy. She knew she wanted Kyo to herself too much. She hoped that no one would be upset with her for hogging his attention all of the time. 

Tohru shifted beneath him, her thigh brushing against the growing bulge in his pants. Kyo groaned against her lips, a sound she had learned was a pleasant one. She repeated the motion and earned a small hiss from him as he pulled away from her lips. An apology was at the tip of her tongue, but when she opened her eyes and saw him panting with half-lidded eyes, the words swept away from her. There was a fire in his amber eyes, pupils blown so wide they almost resembled the cat-like slits he used to have sometimes. 

His hot breath fanned her face, his cheeks rosy from their heated kisses. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” she sighed. “I want to please you.” 

Kyo scoffed lightly. “You can’t say things like that.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

Shifting, he gave her another kiss, soft and chaste that time rather than urgent and hurried as their lip-locking had been previously. Kyo cleared his throat. “I-I, uh, should probably take off--” he trailed off. 

Tohru glanced down a moment and realized suddenly that neither of them had changed out of their school uniforms. What if they wrinkled them!? Her evening would be spent ironing out clothes for sure. Yuki-kun and Shigure-san would be awfully suspicious. 

“Hey.” 

Her eyes locked with his after he spoke. 

“Quit thinking so hard. I’m gonna take them off in case things get, uh, messy.” 

Tohru nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was tight as she watched Kyo lean back and undo the buttons of his pants. She’d felt him through his pants the day previous… but seeing the increased size of his bulge when it was no longer confined in his uniform made her heart leap into her throat. She’d never… seen male anatomy before. Not in person anyway. What was she supposed to do? 

Tohru already felt herself panicking even though his manhood was still covered by his underwear. It looked a little funny, if she was honest. He was still wearing his uniform shirt. Swallowing, she gathered as much courage as she could and gripped the material of his shirt. 

“Can you… take this off too?” 

Kyo’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” 

“Y-You don’t have to! I-I just thought it may make things easier.” 

She was so stupid! Of course, he wouldn’t want to move things so quickly. He’d already taken off one article of clothing, and yet there she was asking for more. 

Kyo gave her a once over… before leaning back on his haunches and slipping both his uniform and undershirt over his head. He tossed them aside onto the pile on the floor with his trousers. There was a light flush kissing his cheeks as he crawled back over her. 

“Better?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. 

Tohru nodded hesitantly. “Y-Yes.” 

There was a gentle gaze in his eyes as he looked over her. With a slight smile, he leaned back in and caught her lips with his own. The kisses were soft at first. Gentle and caring just as he always was. But they once again escalated. Tohru cupped his face as his lips slanted against her own. She really wanted to touch him. Maybe, that was needy of her… but she wanted to so badly. 

Her hands drifted lower, along his shoulders first. They were so built and strong and smooth under her touch. Her fingertips ghosted his skin as she traveled downward along his chest. His skin jumped beneath her fingers, but Tohru found that only to spare her on further. When she reached his abs, she admired the taut muscles that were so firm yet so soft. She’d never felt someone else’s skin like this. Never touched someone so intimately. But Kyo’s tender kisses never ceased, so he didn’t seem to have a problem with her exploring. 

When she reached the v of his hips, she felt the light dusting of hair along his navel as she brushed his knuckle across it. Gingerly, she dared herself to move forward and keep her promise as she dipped a finger beneath the waistband of his boxers. Kyo’s lips stilled against hers, and Tohru momentarily thought maybe she’d done something wrong, but instead he buried his face in her nape taking a few solid breaths as she touched him. 

Tohru continued her journey downward. She brushed past the coarse hairs along his public bone before reaching his length. Cautiously, she took hold of him. 

“ Shit, Tohru,” he gasped against her. 

“S-Sorr--” her grip began to loosen.

“ Don’t apologize,” Kyo grunted. 

Tohru was unsure what to do. She was touching him, but what next? Timidly, she moved her hand along him in slow strokes. His skin was so hot and hard but softer than she imagined. Kyo groaned again before pressing a kiss to her neck, a sensation she hadn’t been expecting at all. The feeling caused her to gasp, squeezing him a little too tightly. He yelped, and Tohru quickly retreated. 

She sat up quickly, nearly knocking Kyo off the bed. “Sorry! I’m sorry! I-I don’t know what I’m doing and--” 

“Oi, stop it,” Kyo retorted quickly. Sighing, he sat up and pushed himself away from her. “Let’s try this another way. Like yesterday?” 

Tohru nodded hesitantly, watching as Kyo shifted and fell onto the bed beside her. 

“I’ll lay on my back and you can reach me easier, aight?” 

“Okay,” she murmured. 

Tohru laid her head on his chest, his skin warm beneath her cheek. Reaching downward, she decided to be just a bit daring and make this easier on both of them movement wise. She tugged his boxers down slightly, revealing his length to the room as it bobbed slightly. Tohru nearly squealed at the sight of it. So strange… Nothing like she thought it’d really look like in person. 

“Oi, don’t stare at it,” Kyo squeaked. 

Tohru quickly looked up at him seeing his face completely red. “Ah! Sorry.” 

“N’ stop apologizin’,” he muttered. 

Tohru wanted to do this for him. So she took him gently into her grasp, rubbing the skin gently so as to not hurt him. She heard him sigh above her, and suddenly his hand clasped over her own. 

“Like this,” he said and used her hand to stroke himself up and down. 

Tohru’s eyes widened at the motion. That wasn’t exactly what she thought was required of her, although, she didn’t know what she expected. He squeezed her fingers around him, causing her to tighten her grip just slightly. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “like that.” 

She continued the movements, stroking him from base to tip, following his motions. He released her hand and she continued on without his guidance. She realized that different speeds garnered different reactions. The little soft groans and moans he let out only fueled her desire to pleasure him. As she increased the speed of her movements with a flick of her wrist, she noticed him breathing harder. He panted and whined, making all sorts of sounds she never would have expected to come from the man she loved. Kyo gripped the sheets, teeth clenching. Tohru swallowed at the sight, somehow it only made heat pool in her own gut. 

“ Fuck, Tohru.”

Tohru nearly yelped when he came as it took her by surprise, taking her out of her own arousal.. He spilled on his chest and some oozed over her fingers. She tried not to be grossed out. It only made her curious, if anything. 

Kyo huffed a breath, sitting up on his elbows. “Sorry, shoulda warned you about that,” he blurted. 

“No, no! It’s okay. Wait here, let me get you a towel!” 

Tohru quickly left the room, careful not to touch anything with her soiled hand. She washed her hands before grabbing a cloth and soaking it with warm water. When she returned, Kyo hadn’t moved just as she instructed. His amber eyes watched her as she cleaned his essence from his skin. She’d have to wash that cloth carefully. The last thing she wanted was for their housemates to know of their slowly budding intimacy. 

When Tohru returned after placing the cloth with the dirty laundry, Kyo had righted his clothes and had apparently gone and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his room. He lounged on her bed, making Tohru smile as she reentered the room. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” she replied as she slipped onto the mattress beside him. 

“You okay? Not scarred for life or anything?” 

Tohru giggled at that. “No.” 

Kyo pursed his lips for a moment, cheeks pinking a little. “You, uh, need me to touch you too?” 

Tohru’s face went hot. “No, no! This was about you, Kyo.” 

Snorting, he shook his head. “This isn’t about taking turns, Tohru, it’s about the feelings, right?” 

“I guess you’re right… b-but I should get started on dinner soon. But I…” she trailed off, glancing away shyly. “I really liked this. I want to continue, if you don’t mind.” 

Kyo smiled slightly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[sparkkeyper]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Word Count: 3,797

Warnings: None    

Summary: Old habits die hard. Crowley and Aziraphale’s habits are very, very old. Building their own side is difficult when 6000 years of instincts won’t shut up. 

(Originally very loosely-based on the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" but then it kind of did its own thing, haha. I was originally going to post this for Advent  Omens but uhhh you can see that didn’t quite happen. Written as ace but you can read it however you want, really. Guess what fools, it’s Soft Boi hours again!)

(Now on AO3!)

-----------

The snow had started early in the day. When Aziraphale arrived at the Mayfair flat it was just a dusting. But the flurry had become a proper snowfall, and then quickly decided 'go big or go home' and transitioned into a flat-out storm.

This didn't phase the two immortals in the slightest, of course. If anything, the swirling flakes outside made it feel even cozier inside. Crowley's sleek, minimalist flat had grown a fireplace for the occasion, and a very surprised new chimney on the roof of the building found itself venting smoke that somehow managed to bypass three floors.

They sat together on the plush sofa (obtained at Aziraphale's insistence several months prior, on the grounds that he wasn't going to continue coming over if there was nowhere comfortable to sit, and Crowley couldn't have that) and drank wine and talked and laughed and reveled in the feeling of being cozy and warm on a cold, blustery day.

Time had traveled on in the usual manner since Armageddon failed to happen. The two of them were unwinding slowly. Thousands of years of looking over shoulders did not evaporate in an evening, benevolent Antichrist or no, and 'our side' was a concept they were still carefully exploring. But what a glorious exploration it was.

There was no limit to the amount of time they could spend together. It was a dizzying concept that they were both adjusting to, but one that carried a thrill through it all the same. Crowley had been sorely tempted to buy tickets to every concert, play, and musical revue London had to offer and do nothing but attend shows for the foreseeable future, the two of them together. In public. He very well might have done too, if Aziraphale hadn't talked him down amid giddy chuckles. "We have time," Aziraphale had reminded him, and Crowley was ecstatic to realize that it was true.

He had relented to two a week.

It was elating. They stood closer together, they sat beside each other on public transportation rather than one behind the other, they gave each other teasing nudges with elbows.

And sometimes - when they were both at least a bottle in - one of them might even bump their hand against the other's, and fingers might intertwine, and an electric tingle would flood Crowley like a live thing, and most importantly neither would pull away for at least two solid minutes and oh wasn't that alone worth saving the world for?

Crowley spent a previously-unheard-of amount of time at the bookshop and Aziraphale's face always lit up like the sun whenever he walked in. He arrived early, stayed late, sometimes didn't bother going home at all, often showed up with wine or snacks, and they were together and it was wonderful. He had fallen asleep on the bookshop couch in the past, but these months he got the impression that Aziraphale had zoned the piece of furniture as specifically his. There was a permanent place set aside for him in Aziraphale's home, in Aziraphale's life. It made a warmth pool in his stomach to think about it despite the creeping winter chill.

Aziraphale had begun to visit Crowley's flat in return. The angel had never once set foot in the place until the night after the airfield - Crowley had never given him the address, to be fair - but now that permission had been granted Aziraphale was here increasingly often. It was so like the easy evenings at the bookshop, just with more austere surroundings. Music, alcohol, debates and memories and slightly drunken speculation. The occasional temporary twining of fingers. It was good.

It was overwhelming sometimes, this new 'good'.

Aziraphale always left the flat at the end of the evening, usually around ten. He had no reservations whatsoever about chatting until dawn in the bookshop but the flat was a new environment, Crowley supposed. Possibly something to do with propriety.

Possibly something to do with thousands of years of distance that they were both still figuring out how to cross.

But that was Aziraphale, all right: as slow and steady as a glacier when it came to his set, comfortable ways. So much had changed in the past few months and the angel had had to adapt quickly. Crowley didn't begrudge him taking a few things slow. Old habits were hard to break and their habits were very, very old.

Crowley understood well how shadows could linger even in the bright daylight. It was all well and good to say he was off Hell's payroll. It was another thing entirely when instinct crept up on him screaming that he needed to watch his back, to sit a row behind Aziraphale on the bus, to have forty excuses ready for when Dagon came auditing. It took considerable effort to override those instincts and remind himself that 'together' was okay. It was allowed. And still he'd so far only managed to turn the volume down on them, not silence them completely. He didn't know if he ever would. Crowley didn't doubt Aziraphale had similar instincts of his own. If the angel felt better setting himself a curfew, Crowley certainly wasn't going to judge.

But tonight they were here, and warm, and sheltered from the blizzard. As 'retro' had begun to slide back into style, Crowley had picked up a sleek addition to his stereo system that was at once a record turntable, radio, tape deck, and CD player, with added Bluetooth capability for good measure. Strains of Vivaldi swam through the room from a vinyl, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the clinking of wine glasses. Aziraphale was settled deeply into the sofa, his posture several steps short of perfect which was how Crowley knew he was truly relaxed. Crowley, as per usual, was draped over the couch like he'd never seen one before in his life, as though he had too many limbs and didn't know what to do with them all. It was good.

Life was good.

It was a little after ten when Aziraphale spoke up. "It's getting late." His voice was a bit distant as he looked out the window, snow glinting in the reflected light as it fell. "I suppose I ought to be going."

There was a note of regret to his voice, a lack of conviction in his eyes, that Crowley had learned to read over the long years of the Arrangement. A smile pulled at the corner of the demon's mouth, covered up easily by another sip of wine. It was a very old game they played, treading carefully along the outside edges of things that could not or should not be said aloud. Expectations, angelic ones in particular, built a lot of barriers. Aziraphale wanted something that wasn't allowed him - or wasn't supposed to be allowed him - and couldn't bring himself to reach out and grasp it. It was Crowley's job to find ways for him to justify the forbidden something to himself.

In the subtle language they shared, the angel was asking Crowley to tempt him, and how could Crowley pass up a request like that?

"Awfully cold out there," the demon drawled, gesturing languidly toward the window with his wine glass. "Snowing like nobody's business. Wind and ice and subzero chill. Terrible night to be out in."

"I'm sure it's not so bad."

"Not so bad? It's been raging for hours! Look at it! It's knee-high! You expect me to try and drive my poor car out in that mess?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon. "Ah yes. Imagine if humans invented other forms of transportation aside from your horrid car."

The demon's argument was all bluff and they both knew it. The Bentley could slice through the snowdrifts like a hot knife through butter if Crowley wanted it to. It wasn't the strength of the argument that mattered - it was whether or not Aziraphale could twist it to bypass the metaphorical roadblocks. Crowley rose to the challenge by sprawling back on the sofa with a smirk. "Other forms of transportation? You mean a bus, in weather like that? And good luck finding a cab out there, angel. City's practically shut down."

Aziraphale stood, giving his back a tentative stretch. "I could walk, of course. I've done it loads of times. It doesn't take much more than twenty minutes, not counting the care that has to be taken for ice."

"Walk, he says!" Crowley tossed back the remainder of his wine like a shot glass. "Think of it - the first angel in history to catch pneumonia! Bad job I'm not working for Hell anymore; they'd give me an award!"

"If doing those temptations in Qashliq for you didn't give me pneumonia, I'm quite sure nothing will."

"Are you ever going to let that go? It was over four hundred years ago!"

"It was February in Siberia, no I will not."

"Suppose you did stay a bit longer," Crowley ventured, changing tactics. It was a risk, coming at the problem from such a direct angle when they were both so used to ghosting along edges. "Bookshop wouldn't go anywhere, would it?"

Aziraphale blinked at the abrupt transition. "Well no, I shouldn't think so. It's just...I mean if I don't return home someone might notice of course and well...people will talk."

Crowley leaned forward over his knees, seriously. "Angel. When, in two hundred years in that bookshop, have you ever given a single fuck what your human neighbours think?"

Aziraphale drew himself up with a huff, and Crowley was delighted to see familiar indignation winning out over nerves. "I am an upstanding member of the community, I'll have you know. And it's not just my neighbours, of course - it's yours as well. That little old lady who lives on the floor below, for example. She always gives me that look when I pass her in the lift."

"What look?"

"You know! That look! Like she thinks she knows what's going on between the two of us."

The demon grinned like a Cheshire cat and gave a suggestive wiggle of his shoulders just for the expression it painted across the angel's face. "You're worried that my neighbours are going to think you and I took a tumble in the sheets?"

"They already suspect! Or at least she suspects." Aziraphale was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but mirth glinted behind his eyes. "Do you know what she said to me as she was getting out of the lift the other day? 'Don't forget to use protection; you don't know where he's been!'"

Crowley howled, leaning so far back in his laughter that he fell off the couch.

"I don't know what's more outlandish, the idea that we're in here having a lurid physical affair or the idea that I don't know exactly where you've been."

Crowley wiped his eyes dry and held out a hand so the angel could help pull him up from the floor. "Remind me to miracle her fridge so that all her milk keeps past its date. 'Don't know where he's been' indeed."

Aziraphale fought to get his own smile under control, for the sake of his argument if nothing else. "Yes, but it just goes to show, Crowley, people do notice. And they will talk, I'm sure of it."

"Let them," he waved it off. "I've seen tissue paper with more durability than human gossip. It'll all get forgotten in a day or two." Crowley leaned over and refilled both glasses.

"Right. I suppose it will." The angel took a tentative sip and sat back into the sofa again. "Silly thing to get worked up about, really."

On a regular night that might have been the end of it. They'd had their verbal tennis, they'd had a laugh, and Aziraphale had accepted another drink. But try as he might, the angel couldn't seem to settle. There was a stiffness, a tension to his spine that would not unwind. He fidgeted with the stemware, shooting furtive glances at the window, the fireplace, the clock. 

The ceiling.

The final notes of Vivaldi faded out, leaving the room in silence, and Crowley rose to swap the record. The discomfort radiating off the angel was almost palpable and it made his own spine crawl. "Aziraphale--"

"Only, the wind really looks dreadful," Aziraphale blurted out, jolting to his feet and crossing to the window. "I really ought to go before it gets worse."

"Can't get much worse than it is, I think," Crowley countered carefully. "Best stay where it's warm."

"I don't..." Aziraphale stared out at the London skyline, nearly invisible in the storm. Pale fingers worried absently at the hem of his waistcoat. His mouth was down to a thin line and there was quite a lot behind his eyes. He looked pained. "I shouldn't impose."

"You're not imposing if I'm offering."

"It isn't...it isn't right for me to stay!"

The demon set down the vinyl he was holding, something dangerous layering his words. "Says who?"

"I've been ignoring protocol too much as it is--"

Crowley gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. "There is no protocol on our side!"

"I know!" Aziraphale snapped. There was a beat of silence and the anger in the angel's face melted as suddenly as it had come, leaving his expression frustrated and upset. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, almost apologetically. "I...I really can't...surely you understand why I can't just..." He ran a hand through his hair helplessly, eyes darting to the ceiling.

The demon set his glass down and moved over to the window.

It was a very old game they played. Crowley was good at his job and Aziraphale was good at the mental gymnastics required to fit through some of the more dubious loopholes. But every now and then they still lost.

He positioned himself in front of the principality, forcing Aziraphale to look at him.

"Angel," he said quietly, as though someone might overhear. "If you want to head home, I'll take you. You know I will. I'd just rather it be because you want to rather than because they would want you to."

Aziraphale looked truly miserable. "Crowley, you've been a marvelous host, you really have, but...I'm so sorry, I..."

Crowley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. For just a moment the demon's face was soft, genuine. A bit sad but still impossibly fond. "Don't be." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's late. Get your coat, angel, it's cold out there." He doused the fireplace with a wave and stretched his back out. "Give me a moment to sober up and I'll start the car."

Aziraphale sighed, clearly frustrated at a great many things, but headed for the coat rack while the demon forced the alcohol from his system. "It ought to be fine," he muttered as the wine bottles in the corner finished refilling. "It ought to be fine. I can't explain it, I..."

"It's like someone's standing too close inside your personal space," Crowley finished for him quietly, pulling a coat of his own from the ether. "Like you're driving on the motorway and you end up in the blind spot of a lorry. There's no great outward change but all of a sudden the hairs are up on the back of your neck and your skin is crawling. And you just have this overwhelming sense of this is not a good place to be, get out."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured unsteadily. "Yes, that's it exactly." His eyes found Crowley's, apologetic, searching.

"It is what it is, angel," he assured him softly. "We have time."

A weight seemed to lift from Aziraphale's shoulders. "I...thank you. Truly." There were things unspoken that Crowley could hear beneath that simple phrase. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being patient with me.

Don't say that, hesitated on the tip of Crowley's tongue. Instinct was, of course, very old and very strong. He swallowed down the words and searched for new ones to replace them.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. The syllables tasted foreign in his mouth.

There was silence in the flat as he buttoned up his coat. Despite the passing months they truly had only moved the barest steps away from where they had been.

They had so very far to go yet.

But it was true. They had time.

"Right." He tried to break the mood as casually as he could, slipping dark glasses on and turning his voice into something light and easy. "Shall we be off then? After you, angel."

The lift ride down was silent, subdued. Something complicated was warring behind the blue eyes and Crowley wasn't going to even begin to touch on it until they were in the car. Aziraphale's steps faltered as he reached the glass doors of the lobby, and Crowley was halfway down the outside stairs before he realized he wasn't following.

"Oi, you coming?"

Aziraphale stared down at the space beyond the door with a peculiar expression: uncertainty and determination and anger and hurt. "I - I don't..." There was a moment of indecision, of frantic debate on his face, then he backed quickly over to the lobby bench and sat down hard.

Crowley pulled his coat tighter about himself as the wind bit through his clothes and ducked back into the building.

Aziraphale held very still, eyes closed and fingers gripping the edge of the bench.

"Angel?"

"Give me a moment. Please."

Crowley paced a cautious half-circle around him, instinctively scanning the principality for damage and the storm beyond the glass wall for threats. Another old habit - nearly useless now but one he wasn't going to be able to drop any time soon. He sat down beside the angel and the lobby was quiet for a very, very long time.

"I think," murmured Aziraphale at last, "if it's all right with you, I'd like to stay."

Crowley studied him closely. "Are you sure?"

"No." Aziraphale met his gaze. "I haven't been sure of much of anything, recently. Not since Tadfield. But I do not want to be forced back to the bookshop tonight."

"Shouldn't force yourself to stay if you're only going to be miserable."

"It's not so bad down here, that's the silly thing. But for some reason the idea of going back upstairs is just..." He laughed wryly. "What a mess I've made of the evening."

"It was a fine evening," Crowley told him earnestly.

"I thought so too, at least until the end there." He straightened, and looked a bit more like himself to Crowley's eyes. "And it's my most sincere hope that, with some more wine and another record, it might be again. Give me a few minutes. I think I can work up to it."

The demon took his glasses off and studied him closely. The determination in those eyes, the set of that jaw, were so familiar they hurt. There was a nervousness there, but there was a stubbornness as well. Like the glacier: slow, steady, but deep down so, so strong.

Crowley reached behind himself and retrieved a pair of full wine glasses that suddenly and thoughtfully decided to exist. "You know, I reckon..." he said quietly, handing one to Aziraphale, "that these will taste just as good right here as they would upstairs."

Aziraphale blinked. Glanced from his glass to the demon to the lift and back again. And his expression softened considerably.

"And if music and wine is what it takes to hang onto your company for a little longer, I s'pose that's the sacrifice I'll have to make, won't I?" He sat his phone down beside him and with a few taps Mozart began to play from its speakers.

Aziraphale stared deep into his wine glass, a smile spreading across his face that he didn't seem quite ready to share with the world yet. "A little unorthodox, isn't it?"

"And?" Crowley shrugged. "Last I checked, there's no protocol on our side."

"So there isn't. Do you know, I think I like that about it."

The demon lowered his voice. "Say the word any time, you know. We'll go, no questions asked."

"I know." Aziraphale let out a long breath and settled back onto cushions that were suddenly far more plush than anything the lobby bench had seen before. "But at the moment I'd rather be here."

The storm howled beyond the glass wall but the central heating vent behind them kept any stray chills at bay. They sat in gentle silence for a long time.

Piano Sonata No. 14 wound through the room, mingling with the warmth and the wine to kindle a sense of calm: a concoction of human magic that miracles, for all their power, could never replicate. Clever things, those humans.

Crowley traced a finger around the rim of his glass. "Can I ask what changed your mind?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale gazed off into the distance for a moment before looking back to his companion. "It was the 'you're welcome', funnily enough. You've always objected so vehemently to being thanked before."

"Yeah, well..." Crowley took another sip of his drink so as not to meet Aziraphale's eyes. "Like being in the blind spot of a lorry."

Aziraphale nodded. "It's..." He trailed off. Took a swig of wine and swallowed it down hard, as though for courage. "It's a comfort," he admitted so quietly that Crowley had to strain to hear him. "To know that it's not just me."

Crowley pursed his lips. "Not by a long shot, no" he confessed, equally quiet.

"I know accepting gratitude doesn't come easy to you. But you managed, tonight."

"It isn't a footrace, angel. I'm not asking you to keep pace with me."

"I know that. And I'm grateful. It's just... seeing you be brave makes me feel like...like I can be as well."

That smile was tugging at the edge of Crowley's mouth again. He reached out and clinked the edge of his glass with Aziraphale's. "Course you can be. Always have been."

The angel smiled back at him, warm and glowing and grateful, just the faintest hint of pink darkening his cheeks. With a daring Crowley had only seen behind the safety of closed doors and wine bottles, he placed a hand on the bench between them, palm up. 

Crowley took it.

Meeting him in the middle, as always.

"Careful, angel," the demon murmured in his ear. "Remember, you don't know where I've been."

Aziraphale gave an undignified snort into his wine glass and their laughter echoed throughout the lobby.

The storm raged cold outside, but here, in their own little in-between place, they were warm.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 5.3 - Stand By Me

3. FAKE

Kuroba and Haijima hit the big city~

Translation Notes

1. Tohoku is the northeast portion of Honshu, the largest island of Japan and consists of Akita, Aomori, Fukushima, Iwate, Miyagi, and Yamagata. Hokuriku is the northwest part and consists of Ishikawa, Fukui, Niigata and Toyama

2. A school with an escalator system is one where the school allows you to advance from one stage of education to the next without having to do entrance exams; these kinds of schools are usually private schools

Previous || Index || Next

He could feel the train shaking, but his consciousness seemed to be clouded.

So noisy… The noise around him grew louder, his consciousness, which had been drifting just below the thin film of his dream, popped to the surface. The sounds of people talking in the distance suddenly became clear in his ears. Passengers began to hurriedly move about, returning seats and tables to their original positions and unloading luggage from racks. For a moment, he thought they were in Maibara, but they were supposed to have already passed Maibara and transferred to the bullet train.

I feel kinda…sluggish…?

After he fell asleep and woke up, he suddenly felt sluggish. I felt somewhat tired before getting on the train, but there’s something strange about this… His whole body felt faintly heavy, like it was covered in a leaden shell.

And then the thing he was resting his head on suddenly disappeared, and his entire upper body slumped to the side.

��Ow…”

His temples throbbed where earpieces of his glasses dug into them. One side of his neck muscles was stretched out and stiff. He screwed up his face as he pressed his neck and saw Kuroba’s back in front of him.

“Wow. We’re really in Tokyo. Wow…”

Kuroba leaned toward the window and shouted with child-like glee, and he could see the smoggy sky beyond his head. The skyscrapers in the city center shone in the pale sunlight. The in-train announcements announced their arrival at Tokyo, the last stop. The train temporarily separated from the dazzling cityscape and slid into the neutral-colored platform.

“…Wait, Tokyo!?”

Haijima pushed Kuroba’s back aside and quickly raised his heavy body.

“Why didn’t you wake me up at Shinagawa?”

“Shinagawa? That’s not Tokyo.”

“I told you we’re getting off at Shinagawa. It’s closer from there.”

“Yeah, but the tickets said Tokyo, right?”

“It says ‘Within the wards of Tokyo.’”

“…So, that’s Tokyo…?”

In all probability, Kuroba didn’t have the Tokyo transit map in his head, so there was no point in engaging with him.

He pulled his bag down from the rack and headed for the doors, pushed by the waves of passengers getting off one after another. As he stepped onto the platform, he felt the air flow and realized how stagnant the dense air inside the train had become. It was the first time in a long while that he felt the air of Tokyo. The air filled with the body heat of people in close quarters definitely wasn’t clear, but the sluggishness eased a little when he breathed in the outside air.

Although he wasn’t nearly as provincial as Kuroba, Haijima hadn’t used Tokyo Station much, so he was bewildered. However, they would cause congestion if they stood in place too long. He started walking before looking for the information board, thinking that if he followed the flow of people, he would soon reach the ticket gates for transferring to the non-conventional train lines.

“Hey, don’t leave me behind. I’ll cry if I get lost here. I’ll definitely get lost.”

“If you get lost, turn on your phone. I’ll call you.”

“I never exchanged my email address or phone number with you. I didn’t get a phone until I was in high school.”

“…Is that right? Then, let’s do it now…”

Passersby roughly pushed them out of the way as they were standing in their way talking. He stumbled back two steps, but when he turned around, he saw that Kuroba had disappeared into the crowd.

“Kuro…”

He was overwhelmed by the scenery that zoomed past before his eyes and froze.

He felt as though the world around him was moving at a speed of 1.3 times faster than he was used to. The pace of the people around were extremely hurried, and the train station announcements sounded high-pitched and rapid. He didn’t feel like that when he lived there before, but he wondered if the world had accelerated in the two years he had been away—he felt like he was going to get thrown from this swift current by centrifugal force, and he was subconsciously looking for something to cling to.

Suddenly, his bag was yanked from the side and he was pulled back into the crowd. He felt the strap digging into his stomach and almost threw up, but it kept him connected to the world. He unintentionally let out a sigh of relief.

“I told you not to leave me.” Kuroba was gripping the strap tightly. Well, he’s the one who has a miserable look on his face like a little kid pulling on his mom’s skirt.

“I didn’t leave you…”

I was the one who thought I was left behind for a moment.

***

“Meisei Academy – High School”

The name of the school was engraved in a ceramic board set into the brick wall.

It was just after school, and the open school gates spewed out students in uniforms with the somewhat pretentious designs typical of private schools. On the grounds of the school, they could see students from athletic clubs dressed in jerseys forming large and small groups and coming and going in whichever directions they wished.

If they had gotten off at Nanafu Station this morning and gone to school as usual, they would have finished their day of classes and gone home by now. It had taken them a whole school day to get here. It might have been closer than he thought, or it might have been farther, because a whole school day of classes was quite painful for him.

“This school looks like it could be the setting for a drama. Private schools in Tokyo really are different.”

Kuroba said in a stupid voice, after opening his mouth stupidly and gazing at the school building towering over the gates. Haijima didn’t know how to feel about that impression, since he rarely watched TV dramas, but standing in a corner of a crowd of uniforms with a distinctive color scheme of dark red and grey, he felt like Seiin’s uniform of just a white shirt and black pants really did seem extremely simple. Some carried non-designated bags or backpacks, but the majority carried the dark red school bag on their shoulders.

“The skirts are shorter than I thought. The way they wear their uniforms are different too. What the hell are Itoko and the others copying?” Kuroba muttered as he watched groups of Meisei girls passing through the school gates.

Then, those girls turned to look at them. “Whoa!” Kuroba was startled and leaned towards him.

The girls started chatting with each other and giggling as they pulled on each other’s uniforms that were worn in a different way and looked at them. Haijima felt a chill in the pit of his stomach.

“H-Hey, those Tokyo girls are looking at us. They’re kind of talking happily. Do you think we might be standing out a lot? Maybe that girl over there thinks I’m cute? What should I do if she’s saying something like that?”

He took another look at the girls’ uniforms from behind Kuroba, who was losing his mind and whispering into his ear, and secretly let out a breath. They weren’t in the same year as him—the Meisei girls’ uniform had ties for the middle schoolers and ribbons for the high schoolers, and the school years could be distinguished by the color. He remembered that his own year was dark blue. The ribbons of those girls were dark green. That was probably the third years’ color. If they were two years above him, they probably didn’t know about back then.

Why did I think they were talking about that just because they looked over here and laughed…more than I expected, I’m…

“You know, I got a sense of it when we arrived here, but we’re pretty tall even in Tokyo.”

“Kuroba…I…might be nervous.”

He muttered that in a hoarse voice, and Kuroba’s face turned serious again like he just remembered.

He was trembling slightly, as though the ends of his body were numb. The feeling of stepping on the ground felt light and fluffy. His throat was unusually dry. He didn’t think his body would react like this when he stood before the gates of Meisei—he had never been nervous in a volleyball game.

“…Haijima, you’re not turning back, are you? You understood and came this far, didn’t you?”

It wouldn’t have been strange if the usual Kuroba told him that he could turn back if he didn’t want to do this. He might have been hoping for that somewhere in his mind. But the slightly harsh voice encouraged him.

“I’m the one who spurred you on. I’m not going to make a way out for you. You’re fine with that, right?”

“…”

He nodded. He remembered that, didn’t he.

“Excuse us!”

They heard a voice in the distance. He didn’t think it was calling them, but Kuroba looked back at the gate with a “Nnn?” and Haijima was influenced to look up as well.

“Sorry we’re late, you’re from H High, right? The captain told us to come welcome you…”

Two boys came running towards them from inside the school. They looked like they were from a sports team with their matching T-shirts and knee-length track pants, and both of their heights were in the 170 centimeter range, which was taller than the average height for boys. However, rather than their heights, he guessed that they were volleyball players because of their builds that gave the impression that they were stretching lankily upwards, and they probably judged them to be the same for the same reasons. He could clearly see the logo “MEISEI VOLLEYBALL TEAM” printed across their chests.

They came running up to them in a friendly manner, but seemed to realize they had mistaken them for the people from H High because of their different uniforms, and they immediately looked suspicious.

“Huh? Sorry, which school…”

One of them was about to say when the other boy next to him spoke up.

“…Chika?”

The only people who called him by his childhood nickname were his acquaintances from his elementary and middle school volleyball days in Tokyo. The name itself now sounded like an accusation to Haijima, and his heart twinged. “Huh? Ah…” The boy next to him also stared at his face, and then exclaimed, “Seriously!? It is Chika!”

“…Tetto and, Kou…?”

Haijima called the names of his former teammates.

Komukai Tetsuto and Ikawa Kou. In middle school, their positions were libero and reserve setter respectively. It was no surprise to him that they made it this far. The school had an escalator system, so about seventy percent of the students came from the middle school division. In addition, athletic team students generally participated in the same club activities in both middle and high school. One of Meisei Academy’s selling points was the long-term development of athletes through an integrated junior and senior high school system.

“You’re here to watch us practice, right? I knew you’re still doing volleyball. There’s no way Chika would quit volleyball.”

Komukai took the initiative to speak as he led the way down the tree-lined path towards the gym. The unexpectedly cheerful welcome left Haijima bewildered.

“Go tell everyone, Kou. Chika came to hang out.”

“Isn’t practice about to start? And what are we going to do about the people from H High?”

Ikawa pulled out his phone while sneaking glances at Haijima. Unlike Komukai, he could read a hint of hesitation in Ikawa’s voice.

Komukai, Ikawa, and Haijima walked side by side. Kuroba, looking out of place, walked several steps behind.

It was Komukai who first heard about Yoshino’s suicide attempt and told everyone on the team about it. Haijima also clearly remembered that Komukai was part of the outbreak of people who blamed him for it afterwards. What if I meet someone who knew about what happened at that time? …Will I be treated like a “murderer” again”…? He had been bracing himself for that, but he had no idea what to do with this reaction that made him forget why he even transferred to another school.

“I think I heard that the school you transferred to was in your grandma’s town, but where was it again? It’s in Tohoku, right? Are you going to high school there now?”

“Fukui’s not in Tohoku, it’s in Hokuriku. (1) It’s Fukui’s Seiin High School.”

Kuroba corrected him unhappily from behind. “Who’s that, your friend from there?” Komukai asked. Haijima answered him while looking over his shoulder at Kuroba.

“My high school teammate, Kuroba, …He’s my friend since kindergarten. …And our ace attacker.” Kuroba looked shocked, and he himself wondered why he had said it like they were separate items.

“Wow. Pretty amazing for a first year, ace attacker. I’m Komukai,” Komukai said carefreely, and Ikawa introduced himself with “Hello, I’m Ikawa,” while texting.

“I’ve never heard of Fukui’s Seiin. Are you guys strong?”

“Unh…we still don’t have any achievements yet, but we’ll get there.”

“Our team made it to the Kanto tournament this year, but we finished in the best sixteen.”

“That’s the power of the upperclassmen, you mean. Did you do anything?”

He interjected because he felt something off about the way he said it. Komukai, who had been talking smoothly, broke off. Ikawa looked up from his phone as though he was startled.

Komukai shrugged his shoulders as though he was exasperated for some reason.

“That part of you hasn’t changed at all.”

“…What do you mean by ‘that part’?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Unlike Seiin, Meisei didn’t have a shortage of freshmen on the bench. It was the efforts of the older students that got them to the Kanto Tournament, and he was sure that was why the older students were so disappointed that they finished in the best sixteen. The only people who could say “in the end” were the players themselves. He felt that there was something wrong about someone who hadn’t contributed to that talking in a self-depreciating way about it…was that wrong?

Suddenly, the back of his collar was grabbed and yanked hard. Haijima stumbled as Kuroba thrust his face between them and cut into the conversation.

“Hey, more importantly, is that Yoshino guy here today?”

“Yoshino? Oh, Yoshino Souta? Well, he doesn’t go here, but…he went some place near my house. You’re still in touch with him, right, Kou?”

“Ah, yeah, he went to a different high school.”

“What…but this place has an escalator system, doesn’t it?” (2)

“Yeah, but Souta quit the volleyball team.”

Ikawa timidly replied to Kuroba’s naïve question, and Komukai supplemented it. “It gets tough when you change clubs midway here. It’s perfectly fine to change, but it’s assumed that in high school you’d be staying in the same club.”

One step behind the three of them, Haijima was rooted to the spot like he had been thrown out of the conversation.

He’s lying, right…? Souta quit volleyball…?

He had just taken it for granted that he would be in Meisei High School’s volleyball team, and no other option had ever crossed his mind. When he thought about, of course there would be other options, but he never doubted that Yoshino would continue to play volleyball.

“…Was it, because, of that…?”

His voice became a lump and got stuck in his throat, causing him to speak in a strangely clumsy way. His vocal chords were blocked by something hard and he could only speak in chunks. He got these symptoms from time to time. The words hardened inside his body. Kuroba looked back at him and gave him a worried look. Komukai looked at Ikawa with a puzzled look on his face, and Ikawa whispered, “You know, Souta’s…incident,” while minding him.

“Incident? Oh, that—.”

Komukai lightly responded and scratched his head with a forced smile.

“I’m surprised, Chika, you still care about that. Uh, yeah, that doesn’t have anything to do with this, I think, because that was…what do you call it, a performance, you know? We did a lot of research on the internet to find out where you can cut and not be in too much danger. Half the team knew about it. Kou, you knew it too, right?”

“I, I didn’t know about it…”

“Souta’s not here anymore, so I can say this now, right? Well, we were talking about how no matter how dense Chika is, even he’d get it if someone died. Then we got excited and decided that someone should really do it and Souta volunteered. Well, even we were turned off when he really did it, but Souta probably couldn’t back down either——”  

…? What is he…?

He spoke so lightly that it slid smoothly over the surface of his ears before he could grasp the meaning of his words. What…is he talking about…? Is he talking about something that he can confess about with a half-smile like that right now? Komukai’s face was twisting and looking like a grotesque creature spouting unintelligible words. It’s disgusting——. Komukai’s face was twisting and looking like a grotesque creature spouting unintelligible words. It’s disgusting——.

A tall shadow flashed at the edge of his vision. Komukai’s slippery voice was cut short with a short cry.

“What the hell is that!? Is that true!?”

The one who grabbed Komukai’s collar and shouted that was Kuroba.

“Do you guys even know the difference between things you can joke about and things you can’t…”

“What’s it got to do with you? We didn’t think Chika would transfer to another school with just that back then…”

“With just that…!?” Growling that as though squeezing the words out from between his grinding teeth, Kuroba raised his fist.  

“Hey, what’s with this guy? Oi, Chika…” Komukai asked for help while covering his face with his arms. If I don’t stop him—even if he’s still suspected of fighting, it’s absolutely no good for him to cause trouble at another school. Are you saying that this is for you alone? Did it become like this because you want to be in a game? No…this is wrong, Kuroba, no—his voice was stuck in his throat and he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move his body.

“Oi, what are you guys doing!?”

When a suspicious-sounding voice came flying from somewhere, he got impelled by it and somehow managed to step forward. He jumped at Kuroba while getting his legs tangled up and grabbed his arms. He shook his head slightly and appealed with his eyes to Kuroba, who ground his teeth in dissatisfaction. Kuroba clicked his tongue and loosened his hold on Komukai.

The wall of the gym could be seen at the end of the tree-lined path. Someone who appeared to be an older student on the volleyball team was standing in front of the metal doors of the entrance.

“Komukai, Ikawa? Where did you guys go! The guys from H High are already here, so there’s no point in making me go to welcome them.”

“Huh, really? Then we must have just missed them!”

While answering the angry shout with one of his own, Komukai tried to keep a distance from Kuroba, but Kuroba roughly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “What the hell?” he protested, but his voice was quiet and he backed off.

The upperclassmen looked at them warily, since they came into the school wearing the uniforms of another school, but when he saw Haijima’s face, he seemed to recall something and he turned back to the gym and said something. It was then that Haijima also recalled the name of that team member. His name was Tatsumi and he was one year older than him. In middle school, Haijima had been on the bench since early in his first year and became the regular setter when the third years retired. In the high school, the upper and lower members would have remained almost unchanged, so there were probably not a few upperclassmen who remembered standing on the court with him.

Some more members came out of the gym as Tatsumi called them. He couldn’t make out the conversation, but the words “Haijima” and “Chika” kept leaking out.

“What’s with them, they’re acting like you’re a panda in a zoo.”

Kuroba muttered, sounding like he was unable to clear away his anger.

“Don’t you know, they’re wondering who’s that guy who looks like a delinquent from the boonies over there.”

When Komukai said that snidely, Kuroba pushed his shoulder with an indignant look and shoved him away. As Komukai was trying to straighten his stretched-out T-shirt while grumbling, Kuroba made a gesture of driving him away with his foot.  Just when Haijima wondered what he was going to say,

“Go tell them that Haijima and Kuroba from Seiin High School, the representative of Fukui Prefecture, came to challenge Meisei High School!”

“Hah?”

Komukai cried out wildly.

“You’re challenging us? Are you stupid? Where the hell is Seiin anyways?”

“I really don’t like the way Tokyo people say ‘stupid.’”

He put his face closer to Komukai’s, almost hanging over him, to silence him and reiterated it in a tone filled with intimidation.

“Didn’t you hear me? We’re Haijima and Kuroba from Seiin High School, representing Fukui Prefecture, have come to challenge Tokyo’s Meisei High. Now, go.”

He half-kicked Komukai’s behind and made him run. Ikawa looked back and forth between them as he hurriedly chased after him. “Keh,” Kuroba mimicked spitting at their backs before turning to him.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He said with a sigh. He didn’t know what kind of face he was making because the nerve in his face had gone off somewhere.

“I know. I know that we can’t commit violence. That’s why, if you want to beat them up, you beat them in a match. That’s the way in sports manga, right? Don’t tell me you’re just gonna slink back home like this, Haijima? After you…got looked down on like that.”

When the corners of his mouth lifted to show his canines and made a disturbed face that looked like a combination of anger and a faint smile—he had never thought this even once until then, but he discovered that he looked exactly like Kuroba Yorimichi.

Previous || Index || Next

[chat-noir-always-here]

Marinette and Anxiety

First, lets count all the things Marinette has that Adrien doesn’t have:

She has a healthy and positive home environment

Both of her parents are living, active presences in her life

Tom and Sabine love Marinette unconditionally

On top of having loving parents she has extended relatives who care deeply for her

she is allowed to go out and have friends over

going to public school is treated as a necessity rather than a privilege

she has, to some degree, or at least more so than Adrien, knowledge of socializing and is able to perceive signals better

she is on good terms and has a history with almost all of her classmates

she is allowed to explore her hobbies

she is allowed to choose her own occupation 

she has the freedom to do whatever she wants with her schedule outside of school and curfew

I could go on but I trust my point is clear? Marinette is blessed with many of the things Adrien has been denied. Worse, everything listed above falls under the category of “normal” “common decency” or “necessity.”

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts because I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” i use it for walls of texts like this one.

But Mari’s life, despite being vastly different and more fulfilling than Adrien’s, isn’t perfect.

In order to understand Mari’s struggles we need to take a look at her history.

We see in Origins that Marinette has been the target of Chloe’s bullying for a long time—three years or perhaps even longer. As is the case with many victims of bullying she lacked the courage and confidence to stand up for himself and more or less suffered in silence until Alya encouraged her to fight back.

Something to understand about bullying: it drastically warps someone’s perspective. Not only in how they view themselves but the people and environment around them. The end result? Some form of isolation and possibly PTSD. Bullying victims tend to be either physically/mentally withdrawn, or both.

Not a lot is known about Mari’s life before the Origins episode, but given that none of her classmates stood up to Chloe except Alya, we can infer that they have grown accustomed to Chloe’s treatment of Mari and are likely not especially close with her at this point in time. 

In her “In defense of Chat Noir” video, Toon Ruins states that Adrien isn’t especially close with his classmates yet either, saying he is “that friend that your mutual friends invite along and is just kinda there.” Its not unreasonable to presume that Mari was in that spot before she became Ladybug, befriended Alya, and developed enough confidence to stand up for herself as well as others.

It would also help explain why her friends were so quick to doubt her when Lila accused her in the Ladybug episode. Despite everything she’s done for them between Origins and Ladybug, they simply haven’t been close for very long and as Alya pointed out the evidence “was stacked against her.” Of course Alya and Adrien believed her because they are closer with Mari than practically any of her other classmates.

Adrien glaring at Lila when Marinette calls out to him for help. I cannot~~~~

Of course there was another, more obvious reason they doubted her: her feelings for Adrien and how intense she is when acting on them, which as Alya puts it served as her supposed “motive” for “hurting Lila.”

Marinette has often been seen crossing lines that are better off left uncrossed when it comes to Adrien. Her friends, especially the girls, are even somewhat aware of how intense these feelings are. (i.e. Alex’s comment during Gigantitan “Marinette knows a lot about Adrien it’s kinda creepy”).

More often than not, Mari wants to go somewhere mainly for the sake of seeing Adrien. Examples of this are when she’s supposed to wait for Nadja to come pick up her cake and during Simon Says when she is grounded for valid reasons . Often times there is some obligation involved—her promise to show up at Alix and Kim’s challenge and her promise with Nino in Simon Says—but chances are if Adrien weren’t there she wouldn’t want to go so bad (until an akuma showed up that is).

Something to understand about this: Mari has little to no opportunity to see Adrien. Worse, her history of being bullied and her previous status as an “acquaintance” rather than a “close friend” gives her at least some modicum of understanding about his situation. She empathizes with Adrien and cares for him, and is aware of his loneliness. During her life before Ladybug she likely longed for someone who would comfort and console her, and yeah probably found some relief with her mom given how Sabine seems aware of Chloe’s treatment of her daughter.

 But Adrien has no one, and knowing that makes Mari all the more anxious when he doesn’t show up for their social gatherings as well as driving her desire to be the source of love and comfort he so desperately needs.

I won’t deny Mari literally breaking the law for Adrien isn’t okay. Sneaking into his home, stealing his phone, and kissing his statue (its a statue in an important museum. Chances are you’re not supposed to touch those, let alone kiss them) are simply NOT OKAY things to do. A lot of this behavior earns her some hate from the fandom and some well-deserved scolding from Tikki. But rather than making me hate her, or call her a stalker, I’m mostly concerned that she doesn’t understand how bad that is. 

But Chat Blanc was a game changer. Adrien would NEVER have seen Ladybug in his room if she hadn’t taken her sweet time inspecting his belongings, smelling his pillow, etc. Meaning Adrien could have had her present and not known about Ladybug (he may have been curious as to how Mari’s gift got past security though). 

However since Marinette WAS seen by Adrien, he was able to learn her secret identity which led to this:

This is a scenario she never expected. And as she learns this was caused by her own poor judgement, she wastes no time in saving Chat Noir, erasing her name from her gift and allowing Adrien to believe it’s a gift from his Brazilian fan club instead of from her, Marinette.

Chat Blanc was one of the last episodes of s3. Safe to say she probably won’t be breaking into anything anytime soon (theres some debate over the chronological order of the episodes, but if I recall this one takes place either in the last four or five episodes on most lists). She nearly lost her kitty for good after all--that’s not a price she’s ever been willing to pay.

This likely wouldn’t have happened at all except Mari’s life as ladybug has caused her to become accustomed to certain behavior in order to keep her secret. Yeah Mari stole Adrien’s phone right out of his locker—and no that wasn’t okay. But remember when she stole her textbook back from Alya? Taking it right out of her bag when Alya wasn’t looking? Just so you know, in the French version, Mari tells Tikki she wrote her name in that textbook. So her secret identity was in grave danger and she had to act quickly.

You’re damn lucky Alya didn’t crack that book open the minute she got it, Mari.

Anyhoo the point is this: Mari is applying what she has come to know as “acceptable behavior i do to protect my secret identity” to her situation with Adrien and misinterpreting it as “acceptable behavior I do to keep Adrien from possibly rejecting me and crushing my soul.” And in her head, they’re similar even though the consequences of either secret coming out are vastly different.

Really think about the context of that voicemail she sent Adrien—if she had accidentally butt dialed Adrien while taking to Tikki about her life as Ladybug and then had to go steal his phone to keep him from learning the truth the fandom wouldn’t have had nearly as much beef with her over that as she wasn’t the one who created the “secret identities rule.”

The reason the two secrets are equally crucial in keeping, in Mari’s mind, is likely due to her overwhelming anxiety. Which even before she became the Guardian of Paris and then the Guardian of Miraculous she was still an anxious person.

She didn’t have much confidence or even a large support network. But in the span of one day she was entrusted with the safety and well being of every single person in Paris.

She didn’t believe she was cut out for being Ladybug but was denied the option of refusing the position and told to just do her best.

She knew going out she would likely screw up the job and given her task failure wasn’t really an option.

Then her worst fears were realized when she failed to capture her first akuma and many citizens were turned into stone statues. The only way to turn them back was to allow Ivan to be akumatized so she could defeat him and take his akuma. The very knowledge of which crippled her and caused her to give up the ladybug earrings.

She tried to go back to her normal life but couldn’t. Ivan was akumatized, Alya’s life was in danger and Chat Noir was struggling to the point he got captured and needed her help. So she took up being Ladybug again in order to help them.

What was she supposed to do? Watch?

From the very beginning she had no say in the matter. Her life as Marinette wasn’t and isnt easy—she has plenty of her own problems but she was given a Miraculous and basically condemned to being at war with Hawk Moth indefinitely.

Ever give a thought as to why the French government allow these two vigilante teenagers to handle the situation? Because ordinary people can’t. In other words if Mari thought only of herself she would give up the fight and ignore all the ensuing damage. But she can’t. And she won’t. She has a job to do. She could give up her miraculous but that would mean taking the pressure off her shoulders and dumping it all onto someone else just as it was dumped onto her. She cant bring herself to do that and even if she could—who would she possibly give it to?

Just imagining that kind of pressure makes me want hurl from nerves. And as of the S3 finale its gotten worse as she has lost Fu, the person who could give out Miraculouses to other people in case she never comes back one day.

Hawk Moth would win. Game over. That’s what it would mean.

Ladybug and Chat Noir know what Hawk Moth winning would mean better than anyone else does. Of course they won’t walk away from this fight. But that means they have to juggle their double lives until its over, and apparently have to do it again with a second hawk moth later on in the future.

And again, even before all of this Mari had a lot she suffered from. Chloe bullying her, feeling lonely, being clumsy. Clumsiness is mortifying--it truly means suffering. Being the class clutz is like being the class laughingstock. Mari seems to handle it fairly well.

 Until she’s around Adrien. I mean look at her!

Poor girl can’t stand looking so uncool in front of her crush. Even though he seems to find her clumsiness endearing.

Going off what was said in my “Debunking: Adrien is perfect” post, Marinette is hyper-sensitive to Adrien’s situation despite not really knowing the full extent of his suffering. 

Marinette doesn’t know Gabriel is Hawk Moth either, but she does understand Adrien is lonely, isolated and in need of a source of love and comfort. She also understands to some degree that his heart is delicate, so she constantly handles him with kid gloves and looks on him with a perfection filter. We see how Mari reacts to upsetting Adrien in Malediktator when she softly whispers an apology after Adrien expresses his sorrow over everyone celebrating Chloe’s departure. She seems pained and distraught over causing him to be upset. Thus the reason Marinette calls Adrien perfect isn’t that she never sees any of his flaws--she just cannot acknowledge or process them under these conditions. She’s too busy trying not to hurt him. 

Marinette can comprehend Adrien’s situation, couples that with her own past experiences of bullying/ loneliness/ being a clumsy laughingstock. That combined with her love for him and her anxiety-warped common sense, led to the behavior which has earned her some disapproval from the fandom at large.

 But really? Marinette’s not a terrible person. Anymore than Adrien is.

 Adrien’s sometimes-obnoxious-flirting is brought on by his desire to “not look lame” in front of Ladybug. Ergo, his own insecurities are amplified around her because he too lacks confidence.

 Likewise Marinette’s stammering and clumsiness are amplified around Adrien, as is her anxiety and her desire to be cool in front of him.

 They both feel they have to prove themselves to the other in some regard. And they both have past and present experiences that have left them hurting and/or warped their judgement in some ways. 

 This doesn’t make Mari’s irrational behavior any more acceptable than Adrien’s troubles make his leading Kagami on and lying to Ladybug acceptable. It’s not acceptable. But Mari is no more deserving of hate than Adrien is.

They’re just a couple of stressed out kids, folks

[scxrsgxrd]

No Good // Willard Russell Part Three

Part one here

Part two here

Hello everyone! I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to update this but, as promised, the next part is here and I hope you all enjoy it! I really appreciate you taking the time to read this and love reading your responses :)

WARNINGS: 18+ mature language, mentions of alcohol, smoking, blood and violence.

Lillian smiled politely when she picked up her Uncle’s prescription from the pharmacist, cramming the small paper bag into her purse and making her way out of the pharmacy, lowering her head as she heard various whistles come from the two men on a smoke break outside the building. 

“Well hey there, darlin’.” The man in the white coat drawled out to her, throwing down the butt end of his cigarette while he used his other hand to comb through his dark, greasy hair.

“Hello.” Lil forced a smile, keeping her eyes on the ground as she clutched tightly onto her purse.

The man smirked at her; he seemed to take pleasure in her agitation. He cast a glance to the shorter man behind him, raising his eyebrow which made the short man snicker.

“Name’s Ray, honey. Ray Miller.” He leant closer to Lil, close enough that she could smell the tobacco on his breath mixed with the overwhelming scent of his cologne. He took a hold of her hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a sloppy kiss on the back of Lil’s hands while his eyes landed on her breasts.

Lil recoiled.

“Nice to meet you, Ray.” She wiped her hand on the back of her skirt and was about to carry on walking when he cleared his throat and craned his head toward the building in front of them, Miller’s Pharmacy.

“Oh, lucky you.” Lil didn’t know how she was supposed to react to this ogling man and his painfully over exaggerated bragging.

“I see we’ve had your custom, how much were the pills?” Ray nodded to the small bag poking out of Lil’s purse, and looked as though he was about to snatch it from her before she took a step away.

“That is none of your business, sir.” Lil gritted her teeth, her act of defiance made Ray frown, but nevertheless he took another step closer to Lil and lowered his voice. He was slightly taller than her, so he peered down at Lil, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke.

“Listen, honey. You ever need a discount on your bill, you ask for me, m’kay? I have a few other.. methods of payment that could be suitable for a pretty little girl like you.” Ray’s eyes raked up and down Lil, his head craning slightly to get a glimpse of the back of her skirt.

Lil didn’t respond. She wasn’t going to give that perverted son of a bitch the satisfaction. And besides, her Aunt Barb would give her niece hell if she found out she made a scene with the heir to Miller’s pharmacy. Instead, Lil began to walk away. She lowered her head when she heard the loud whistle come from Ray, and took a few deep breaths as she made her way along the dusty old road back to Al’s bar.

-

Willard had just finished his day’s shift at the slaughterhouse, the acrid stench of death was still clinging to his nostrils as he lit a cigarette while leaning against the wall outside of the slaughterhouse, gazing at the town busybodies hurrying from shop to shop. Then he caught sight of Ray Miller.

Sleazy motherfucker.

Ray was in prime position outside the pharmacy in his glowing white coat, his dark hair slicked back as he jeered at unsuspecting women passing by. Ray was practically asking for someone to land a few blows in his snivelling little face, and Willard wanted to be first in the queue for when that day eventually came.

Willard perked up slightly when he noticed the girl from the bar exit the pharmacy, only to be leapt on by Ray. Willard’s jaw involuntarily tightened when he saw the son of a bitch press his lips against the girl’s ear and whisper something. The look on the Lil’s face told Willard exactly what Ray was muttering to her.

So Willard waited. He waited until the girl had left the vicinity of the town and threw his cigarette butt onto the floor, pressing his foot over it as he made his way over to Miller’s pharmacy.

“My god, Willard Russell.” Ray held his arms out as though he were offering Willard some kind of friendly embrace, but quickly reverted back to his original standing position when he saw the look on Willard’s face. Ray tried to buff his chest out slightly, taking a deep breath as he stood as tall as he could, and opened his mouth once again.

“Such a shame about that pretty little wife of yours, it was always a delight seeing her pass by-”

Willard grabbed onto the collar of Ray’s coat, leaving crimson stains on the polished white material from the blood still on his hands from his shift. Ray’s nose crinkled when he noticed the crimson smear.

“You listen here, you greasy little shit,” Willard snarled, shoving Ray against the wall as he tightened his grip on the coat.

“You don’t bother that girl again. Or any other girl for that matter, if you do then I’ll make you fuckin’ regret it.” Droplets of Willard saliva sprayed onto Ray’s face as, for the first time in his life, he was trembling like a terrified puppy.

All Ray could manage was a meek little nod. Willard growled as he let go of the coat, staring at the shorter man for a few seconds longer before he began to walk away, quickly. He knew if he stayed any longer his temper would once again get the better of him, and he needed a damn good drink.

-

Lil was mopping down the bar with a stained old rag when she heard it. That laugh. She knew she should keep her gaze firmly on the puddle of beer soaking into her rag, but her eyes began to flicker upwards toward the man who had just waltzed into the bar, his obnoxious bellowing drowning out the guffaws of the other drinkers.

Ray.

At that exact moment his gaze caught hers, and he staggered his way over the bar. Even before he reached her Lil could smell the liquor on his breath, the leering smile he had on his lips earlier in the day had only seemed to grow.

“How much?” Lil could barely make out what he was saying as he threw himself onto the nearest bar stool, his elbow knocking an empty beer bottle onto the floor with a crash, which only Lil seemed to pay attention to.

“You’ve had enough.” Her tone was assertive, she made sure of it. Lil wasn’t going to let him intimidate her again.

He snorted and shoved his hand into the back pocket of his slacks, producing his bulging wallet as he slammed it onto the bar.

“Not for a drink.” His teeth began to poke out from behind his lips.

“For you.”

Lil stared at the man, who seemed to take her aghast silence as an incentive. He opened his wallet and slid a $20 bill towards her, his eyebrow raising as he gazed between the money and Lil.

“Get out of this fuckin’ bar, right fuckin’ now.” Lil made sure to keep her voice low, she was aware of her Aunt chatting away to a couple of men at the nearby booth.

“Mm, I can be more generous than that sweetie pie.” Ray threw a second $20 bill at Lil, his eyes glimmering as it landed at her feet.

“Pick it up.” He drawled, licking his lips as he sat further back on the stool.

Lil folded her arms and bit down on the inside of her lip.

“Bend that pretty little ass over and pick the fuckin’ money up.” Ray slammed his fists down on the bar and raised his voice enough for the whole bar to quieten and look in Lil’s direction.

“Oh, Ray. Here, I’ll sort that out for you honey.” Barb quickly bustled over and bent down to pick up the bill, holding it out to Ray with a smile, which only made him snarl once again.

“I didn’t fuckin’ ask you. I asked the pretty little whore with the red lipstick.” Ray leant over the bar and grabbed Lil by the chin, his thumbs digging harshly into her skin as she tried to shake him off.

Then, as if out of nowhere, a large hand landed on Ray’s shoulder and hauled him off the bar stool, the other fist connecting with his face as Barb let out an almighty shriek.

-

Willard was sat in his usual place at Al’s, the booth at the farthest end of the bar, away from everyone else where he could enjoy his beer in a somewhat sense of peace. He wrapped his lips around the rim of the bottle and tipped his head back slightly, a small sigh leaving him as he felt the lukewarm liquid trickle down his throat. 

Willard didn’t normally pay attention to his surroundings, he was never one to be interested in the ramblings of people around him. He had enough rambling to listen to inside his own head. He had just finished his beer and was about to lift himself off his seat when an unpleasant, almost roaring sound filled the bar.

Just what I fuckin’ need.

Willard pinched the space between his eyebrows, he couldn’t even enjoy a drink without that grimy bastard interrupting. His eyes followed Ray over to the bar, where he made a beeline for Barb’s niece and rummaged around in his back pocket before lifting out his wallet, the dollar bills crammed inside it almost floating down onto the piss-stained floor.

Willard took a deep breath, he knew what was about to happen. The same thing that happened every time Ray got himself shitfaced after his payday.

Don’t do it, Willard. This ain’t your fight. He began to repeat over and over in his head.

It was almost like Willard had some kind of out of body experience. He flew up out of his seat and barrelled over to Ray, landing his hand on Ray’s shoulder as he dragged him up.

Ray was much smaller than Willard, and his alcohol consumption had made his legs useless. He slumped to the ground as Willard landed his first blow, and a dull, guttural growl left Willard. He grabbed onto Ray’s shirt and pinned him against the bar, his teeth clenched as droplets of sweat formed on his chest and forehead.

“What’d I fuckin tell you? Huh?” Willard didn't care that Ray couldn’t hear him as he had lost consciousness, he clenched his fist once more and raised his arm.

It took four men to lift Willard off of Ray, but Willard didn’t come quietly. He thrashed and flailed, screaming various insults as he kicked his legs out and tried to grab onto whatever he could to help him free himself.

The only thing that made Willard pause was the look on Lil’s face. Her features were contorted with pure horror as she clasped a hand over her mouth and let out a sob, her eyes widening with pure fear as she saw the man who had become almost animal-like in front of her.

“You, You.” Barb screeched at Willard, shoving at his chest as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

“You ain’t welcome in this town anymore, let alone my damned bar.” She moved forward to push Willard again, but Al grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace, his tired eyes signalling for Willard to leave the bar.

Willard tripped down the steps out of the bar, a searing pain in his knuckles beginning to manifest as the haze he found himself in a few minutes earlier began to subside. He stumbled slightly as he saw himself hunched above Ray, blood trickling from the man’s nose as he sank into the bar. Then, he saw the look on Lil’s face. The smudged mascara running down her cheeks as more tears formed in her eyes, she should never have seen what she saw.

Willard knew he only had one choice left. He needed to pray.

He ran a hand through his hair, the sweat on his forehead had made a few strands stick, and his chest was still heaving. 

“Willard? Willard?” He didn’t hear the voice behind him as he began to slowly trudge away from the still silent bar.

“Mr. Russell.” A hand latched onto his.

The notion made Willard flinch, and he turned his head to see Lil stood behind him. She took a few steps backwards when she realised he had his attention. From the faint glimmer of the moonlight Willard could see the tear stains on her cheeks, and her lipstick was smudged across her chin.

He shook his head as was about to continue on walking when she grabbed onto his hand once again, tighter this time.

“Let go of me, girl. I ain’t no good to you, and now you know why.” His voice cracked slightly and his eyes began to well up.

“Let me help you.” Her tone was genuine and her eyes softened slightly as she stepped towards him.

Willard felt something inside him click, as if the inner torment just.. ceased for a minute or two. Lil gave him a small smile and nodded her head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

And, at that very moment, Willard kissed Lil for the first time.

Tags: @roman-cek @lucifer-reads @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @illskillsgard @walkxthexmoon @jj-lynn21 @llama--mama @erzsebet1614 @ispeaksarcasm14 @skarsgard-daydreams @skrsgardspam @theskarsgardcult @dreamtherapy

If anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know :)

[seokiloquy]

Lost In- What Word? Pt 1 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 4.5k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time. 

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English. 

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty. 

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public. 

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony. 

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He was to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. Fuck, I need a job. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them. 

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really. 

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses playing around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately. 

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.” 

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you. 

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

When did he become another person’s son?

I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on. 

Question:

Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)? 

- Bacon

Posted: 31/07/2020

[monochrome-in-madness]

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My Top 10 Favourite Horrors

Within this top 10 list, some will include the prequels, sequels and any other follow ups as 1 ranking number. Some may be considered thriller, sci-fi, suspence etc, however, I do regard these as horrors myself.

I have take many aspects into account, such as videography, actor quality, SFX makeup quality, soundtrack, directors, CGI etc.

Note : this is my personal opinion. You do not have to agree with it, though if you haven't seen these, I highly reccomend them.

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1. The Conjuring

(1 & 2)

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The Conjuring 1 :

The Perron family moves into a farmhouse where they experience paranormal phenomena. They consult demonologists, Ed and Lorraine Warren, to help them get rid of the evil entity haunting them.

The Conjuring Trailer :

The Conjuring 2 :

Peggy, a single mother of four children, seeks the help of occult investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren when she and her children witness strange, paranormal events in their house

The Conjuring 2 Trailer :

My Opinion :

The Conjuring was the start of an incredible series of horrors that beat any other horror to the ground. It is absolutely fantastic and I basically worship these films. James Wan is my favourite director and he never ceases to amaze me.

Paranormal horror is my favourite and as someone who actually believes in the paranormal and who has had paranormal experiences, I can confirm that The Conjuring is much more realistic than any other paranormal films, which just makes it extra spooky.

The actors, camera angles, music, sfx makeup and storyline is just - chefs kiss -. I've been waiting for the 3rd one for so long, but they keep extending the release date. (R. I. P)

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2. Annabelle

(all of them)

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Annabelle :

John and Mia Form are attacked by a Satan worshipping couple, who uses their doll as a conduit to make their life miserable. This unleashes a string of paranormal events in the Forms' residence.

Annabelle Trailer :

Annabelle Creation :

Samuel and Elle embed their daughter's spirit into a doll, only to realise it is a demon. Years later, they open their home to a nun and six orphan girls, one of whom finds the doll.

Annabelle Creation Trailer :

Annabelle Comes Home :

Judy and her babysitter are left alone in her house after her parents leave to investigate a case. However, an unexpected guest sets Annabelle free, unleashing demonic activity in the house.

Annabelle Comes Home Trailer :

My Opinion :

Another great film series that was birthed form The Conjuring. Definitely less realistic, with many more jumpscares and spooky characters, which is appreciated in the horror world. Many people find dolls far more creepy than ghosts, myself included, so that's another perfect aspect that adds to the suspense.

I prefer Annabelle 3 over the others, mainly because I found that one to be more scary overall, even though Daniela is an idiot and she makes me so frustrated 😂

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3. Saw

(all of them)

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For the totally unindoctrinated, the Saw movie franchise revolves around the Jigsaw Killer (a.k.a. John Kramer), who tortures victims he believes are complacent or guilty, in order to make them appreciate their time on Earth.

All Saw Trailers :

Obviously I'm not going to list every Saw movie, because there are 7 (Jigsaw aka number 8, does NOT count. It is a disgrace).

My Opinion :

A classic for horror and gore lovers of all kinds. Of course I need to list this as number 3. I simply adore these movies. I even have the DVD set, so I am definitely a long term fan haha.

The obstacles and creativity regarding Saw as a whole needed a lot of thought put into it, plus it has a happy little side note of "make sure you don't cause harm to others in life and don't take anything for granted" which some may have not even noticed while being overwhelmed by the amount of fake blood.

Yes, a lot of characters are annoying, but that just makes us enjoy seeing them tortured even more (shh it's not real). Some of the blood doesn't look very realistic, the sfx can lack attention, BUT... It's still great and I can overlook these few flaws to appreciate the movies to the max.

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4. Blair Witch

(2016)

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A young man and his friends venture into the Black Hills Forest in Maryland to uncover the mystery surrounding his missing sister. Many believe her disappearance 17 years earlier is connected to the legend of the Blair Witch.

At first the group is hopeful, especially when two locals act as guides through the dark and winding woods. As the night wears on, a visit from a menacing presence soon makes them realize that the legend is all too real, and more sinister than they could have ever imagined.

Blair Witch Trailer :

My Opinion :

I love the camerawork. Not because it's perfect, because it's the opposite. It's a documentary style and this makes it feel more realistic, as if you are within the film yourself. I enjoy how they skip to the action at just the right time after a mild buildup.

The visuals are great as well and there were definitely some parts where I was disgusted and claustrophobic, which is good to experience while enjoying these types of films.

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5. Under The Skin

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Disguising itself as a human female, an extraterrestrial drives around Scotland attempting to lure unsuspecting men into her van. Once there, she seduces and sends them into another dimension where they are nothing more than meat.

Under The Skin Trailer :

My Opinion :

I would classify this as horror, but many won't. Either way, this is an amazingly artistic film with beautiful imagery and silent awe. It definitely makes you feel the suspense in a calming manner and it has some really dark moments. Without reading the description, one might be confused as to what is going on, but how art is supposed to be interpretated is by the imagination of individuals.

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6. Veronica

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During a solar eclipse, young Verónica and her friends want to summon the spirit of Verónica's father using an Ouija board. However, during the session she loses consciousness and soon it becomes clear that evil demons have arrived.

Veronica Trailer :

My Opinion :

A Spanish masterpiece, to put it simply. It's hard to find proper horrors like this in English. I really enjoyed this one and I watched it subbed not dubbed, because I feel like voiceovers tend to ruin the art of the original film. The buildup is perfect and unlike many horrors, it barely shows you the face of the "monster". That leaves it to the imagination, which in general makes it far more scary.

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7. Underwater

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Disaster strikes more than six miles below the ocean surface when water crashes through the walls of a drilling station. Led by their captain, the survivors realize that their only hope is to walk across the sea floor to reach the main part of the facility. But they soon find themselves in a fight for their lives when they come under attack from mysterious and deadly creatures that no one has ever seen.

Underwater Trailer :

My Opinion :

This movie was released quite recently and I didn't know what to expect. I was definitely blown away by how good it was. Being trapped underwater gives most people a sense of anxiety. Add being trapped underwater and being hunted by creepy sea monsters and you've got yourself a good horror. Kristen Stewarts general anxious personality definitely suits this film well.

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8. Split

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Kevin, who is suffering from dissociative identity disorder and has 23 alter egos, kidnaps three teenagers. They must figure out his friendly personas before he unleashes his 24th personality.

Split Trailer :

https://youtu.be/84TouqfIsiI

My Opinion :

An incredible film with phenomenal acting on the part of James McAvoy. You can get lost within his character and almost feel as if you are the character itself. Suspense is built up slowly and the climax of the film is released rapidly. People I know who do not enjoy horror, love this film themselves, which is saying something. It's definitely one of the best modern films that draws you in from the start. 

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9. A Quiet Place

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A family struggles for survival in a world where most humans have been killed by blind but noise-sensitive creatures. They are forced to communicate in sign language to keep the creatures at bay.

A Quiet Place Trailer :

https://youtu.be/WR7cc5t7tv8

My Opinion :

As you can tell by now, I love anything alien related. This film has some of the most amazing looking aliens I've seen, I was honestly in awe by how great they looked. Another silent film, but in a different sense to the previous one. Instead of being the hunter, this family is being hunted and this adds more to the fear factor.

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10. Unfriended - Dark Web

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When a teen finds a laptop with a cache of hidden files, he and his friend discover that the previous owner has access to the dark web and is watching over them.

Unfriended - Dark Web Trailer :

https://youtu.be/XenTM_C9fxM

My Opinion :

A modern take on horror. Involving the actual dangers of the dark web and the use of technology and turning it into a horror was a magnificent idea. It definitely had me at the edge of my seat.

Due to another film type that is not often explored (thus being that most of the movie is equal to what it would be like to look at your computer and video chat), it makes it different and therefore more compelling than the usual videography styles.

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Thank you for reading, if you've made it this far! Feel free to share your top 10 in the comment section, I am definitely interested in your opinions and finding new movies to watch myself. Any questions are also welcome.

Until next time, take care and stay spooky!

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[diffractor]

I was thinking back to childhood memories, and just realized that the gba game “Sonic Battle” I played a very long time ago was plausibly a subconscious motivating factor for finding AI safety to be an important thing to work on. Said game is a Sonic fighting game, with a hell of a story, though it only really clicks once you do a second playthrough with enough context to see what’s actually going on there. So, this is the plot with full context (and filling in tidbits of info that you only get on the second playthrough), and I’m doing it from memory so there may be some inaccuracies. Once upon a time there was the 4th great Civilization. Key word, “was”. The thing that wiped them out was that they made a very specific robot, as a weapon of war, named Emerl (though that isn’t the original name), and... it didn’t go so well. Emerl’s ability was to be able to copy any attack or weapon used against it, or that it observes. This manifests in the game as Emerl not having a fixed moveset, you can splice together whichever moveset you want from the moves of all the other characters you’ve fought against. Just stitch the best healing and the best movement speed and the best attacks and best projectiles and a “self-destruct after you die” special ability together from all the different characters, and plow through the rest of the cast. Anyways, it was built as a weapon of war, and the creators didn’t last too long after that, though it isn’t specified precisely what happened. Eggman’s father (or grandpa, maybe?) is tasked by the military with creating weapons of war. He doesn’t really want to do this, and so tends to make freely willed things that can reject being a weapon. One of which was Shadow the hedgehog, and also, as his logs show, he found Emerl on an archeology trip too, and kinda freaked out when he realized exactly what that particular robot was. He wasn’t able to completely override the original programming, just put in some modifications. Later, Eggman gets a hold of Emerl somehow, and after a bit of testing and using it to make crappy knockoff robots, deems it a useless pile of trash and certainly not the civilization-ending weapon it’s supposed to be and throws it away on the beach. Sonic finds the abandoned robot, and shows off his moves. Emerl bonds with him (read: follows Sonic around and obeys commands and if Sonic tells Emerl to obey someone else then Emerl has a new master), because one of the things it’s programmed to do is to obey someone who displays sufficient power. It can barely talk, isn’t that good at fighting, and Tails is trying to figure out what the deal with it is. It seems to be attracted to Chaos Emeralds, and after getting the first one, there’s a notable boost in its ability to copy things, fight, and talk, going from “barely able to talk” to “low-quality chatbot trained on a corpus of sonic and tails talking” to “gpt-2 trained on sonic, tails, knuckles, and amy” to “gpt-3 trained on the whole sonic cast” as the game progresses and you acquire more. There’s a bunch of adventures which are mostly pointless, by my estimation, with a bunch of characters trying to use Emerl for their own ends, and getting into shenanigans, and fighting off Eggman, while nobody seems to realize they’ve got a civilization-destroying weapon on their hands. The only sane character worthy of any respect in this entire shitshow is Shadow the Hedgehog, who knows what Emerl actually is and is trying his best to kill the damn thing, while everyone else unreasonably insists on getting in his way and feeding Emerl more Chaos Emeralds because he’s their friend. Idiots. We get to the Shadow arc. Apparently Shadow and Rouge have found Eggman’s (dad’s? grandpa’s?) logs, and apparently when it gets all 7 Chaos Emeralds, it will awaken to its original form. And he managed to set things up so if you say the password “bring hope to humanity” upon Emerl fully waking up... it gets sealed again, and acts as just a friendly Sonic character with free will again, having fun with the rest of the cast. Shadow gives Emerl the last Chaos Emerald and does that, after some meaningful chats. And then the Emerl arc, the final one. Eggman has apparently made some villainous spaceship floating in the sky and being ominous, and the sonic crew sends Emerl up to give Eggman an ass-whooping, which he does. And then Eggman reveals that it was a trap, fires the big spaceship gun (which apparently wipes out some stars, but I reject this because physics and my headcanon is that it just made a big new crater on the moon), and reveals that there’s one last bit of knowledge that nobody knew about. Emerl will always make a bond with anyone that displays overwhelming power, far in excess of what has previously been shown. And all the happy-go-lucky friendly robot nonsense is wiped away, and the ancient weapon of war (which Emerl always was, Shadow should have turned it into scrap) awakens at full power, and starts gathering energy. Eggman tries to direct it (and fails). It aims the big spaceship gun at earth, and Eggman is quite put out by this, because he just wants to rule the world, not destroy it. But, y’know, if you play around with civilization-destroying robots, your civilization might end up destroyed, who would have thought. Emerl beats Eggman up. Sonic takes the Master Emerald (capable of controlling the Chaos Emeralds) and teleports onto the ship to try to use it to reign Emerl in, as their last hope. The heroic victory at the last moment. Emerl unceremoniously smashes it before it can be used. 30 seconds until end of earth. Shadow chooses to go out with a few edgy lines about “the final voice of the last war machine” and “natural result of ignorant human desires” Cream chooses to go out with “are we all... going to die? :(” Tails chooses to go out frantically advising Sonic on how, if he can inflict massive damage on Emerl, since Emerl has too much power stored up and is highly unstable, it should be able to take him out. Sonic chooses to go out fighting Full Power Emerl entirely equipped with blink-fast 2-hit-ko attacks. And then you defeat Emerl and he suffers but shuts down back to normal and looks like he’s gonna live... And then beeping. Apparently Eggman’s grandpa put in a self-destruct safeguard. Emerl dies via self-destruct, and everyone is sad, and I cried a bit as a kid, and they talk about making a better world... And (it may just be me), there’s one last note of discontent in your mind after beating the game. You didn’t beat Emerl in 30 seconds. In fact, I don’t think it’s even possible to beat that final battle in 30 seconds. If the situation had actually happened, there wouldn’t have been a heroic final victory after Emerl shattered the Master Emerald. Sonic would have had his ass handed to him, or not won in 30 seconds, and the Earth would be destroyed thanks to Dr. Eggman and everyone involved in waking Emerl up and thinking they were helping, and Shadow failing at killing the robot early on, and that would be that. You now probably see why this old gba game could be a subconscious motivator.

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

[As Promised, here is the first chapter of the Overhaul Fanfic I was supposed to be working on once a week. I hope I can do a good enough job. I haven’t written a fanfic since my Wattpad days. I still get notifications from my Ticci Toby x Clockwork book XD]

Summary: The move to the city has been hectic so far. You’re new here and feeling very much alone, but you aren’t scared! People around here seem to be fairly nice to you, yet there were still mysterious people lurking here and there. So what do you think happens when you go get laundry done a block away? It can either be good or bad, but it will never be boring!

Chapter: 1

Warnings: None

“Thank you!” You cheerfully waved at the moving men when they left the last of your furniture in the living room. They were off to the next objective and you were free to unpack and unwind to enjoy your new city life. The move has been hectic you agree, but the overwhelming feeling of starting life anew was welcoming and overtly optimistic. You smiled to yourself as you sat on the plushy carpet of the living room and sifted through a box labelled ‘wall art’. Sure you were jumping ahead by trying to decorate before unpacking everything, but you just couldn’t wait to make the new apartment feel homier. Suddenly you heard a soft knocking at the door. You opened it and looked down to see a VERY short elderly woman holding a small present while a small dog was leashed next to her side. “Good evening dear. I’m the landlord at this establishment and I just wanted to take the time to give you the old welcome chat that I’ve given to all of my tenants since I started in this business. My name is Mrs. Yumine. You may call me Ms. Yumi for short. This here is my furry baby Fitch.” She said as she pointed at the cute dog next to her. “Here, these are for you dear.” She reached up and handed you the box with her short arms. You smiled and gently took the box, opening it to reveal fresh baked cookies. “Thank you so much Ms. Yumi! Also, thank you for allowing me to take up residence at this apartment complex. I have the feeling that I’m going to like living here!” You said cheerfully. The elderly woman smiled widely, her wrinkles pulling to show the cheerfulness of her face over time. “My dear if you need anything then please come see me on the first floor in apartment #6. If you can’t see me for whatever reason then please call me at either number I’ve written on the bottom of that box. Have a good evening!” You nodded and went to put the box away once the landlord had left to finish walking her pup. Eventually all your hard work paid off and you were almost finished unpacking/moving things around. You had all of the essentials unpacked save for a few items amongst the unnecessary. The only issue now was:

1.) What are you going to have for dinner

2.) What are you going to wear to bed? (unless you sleep in the nude, to which this isn’t a problem)

You sighed and looked over at the stack of dirty clothes you didn’t wash before moving here. Unfortunately you looked around and realized the apartment had no washer or dryer hookup. After some quick searching on your phone However, you were able to locate a laundromat just a block away from the apartment. “Score!” You quickly got up from your lounging spot on the couch and gathered the clothes into a basket. You made space for detergent and grabbed the keys to lock the apartment behind yourself. Walking just down the block, you managed to make it to the laundromat in just fine condition. With this section of the city being as large as it was, the crime here was moderate rather than slim. Yet you still moved here due to job opportunity. You smiled to yourself at the near empty laundromat. It was becoming evening time very soon, and eventually it would shift into night by the time you finished washing and drying your clothes. The crowd here was barren due to the time of day. It was just you, a busy mother of 2 folding her laundry by a table, and an old man snoozing in the chairs by the large window. You began to load clothing into the washer when suddenly you heard the ding of the door opening. You looked up and saw 3 rather handsome men standing empty handed as they entered. One on the right had odd silver hair in the shape of arrows that framed his handsome face ever so delicately. His eyes thin and focused, his jawline carved by God himself. Although he was dressed in a simple white hoodie, he could’ve easily passed as a model. The man on the left had a more refined look to him. His hair was a short blonde combed neatly upon his head. His glasses adorned his rather slender face perfectly. He was dressed semi casual with a tie and everything. He was the type of man you’d see in a bank somewhere. Finally your attention turned to the man in the middle. His hair was a cropped, darkened chestnut/auburn color. Three golden piercings attached to one of his ears, and a simple black medical mask covered the lower half of his face. His outfit was semi casual while formal at the same time. He wore a clack suit jacket with a dark grey button up underneath, unbuttoned at the top just a bit. There was no tie, and the slacks fit his lower form perfectly, showing off the very slightly thickened thighs. 

Perhaps the most entrancing thing about his appearance was his piercing golden eyes and his long lower eyelashes. 

Their eyes began scanning the scene, and when the man in the middle locked eyes with you then you quickly turned your attention to the laundry in front of you. His stare was burning into you, and you felt as if you were being watched since he looked at you. You nervously shifted eyes to the busy mother and noticed how she discreetly pushed her children behind her back. She then quickly proceeded to fold all of her laundry and rush out the door past the men. By now the elderly man had woken up from the sound of his washing machine beeping to signal his clothes were complete. He noticed the 3 men by the door and quickly gathered his wet clothes, tossing them into the nearest dryer, paying the change, and moving to sit on the other end of the laundromat. Apparently these men carried an aura to them that you just couldn’t put your hands on. Still, you were here to do your laundry, so you decided not to focus too hard on them...no matter how handsome and shady they may have seemed. You settled your clothing into the washing machine and inserted the change. Then you went to sit at the window where the old man originally sat. You glanced at him from the other end of the laundromat and his eyes held a certain shock or fear. Perhaps it was remorse, or maybe a warning. It was as if he was mentally trying to tell you to leave, or to sit over by him instead of being near the men. You ignored the ominous message and pulled your phone out to scroll through the notifications. You couldn’t help but to overhear some of the conversation they began to engage in. 

“I shouldn’t have to be in such a filthy area such as this. How does this pertain to the deal in any way, Kurono?” The golden eyed man asked the arrow hair. “I don’t know, but Hojo spoke of the rival gang being not too far from here. This is a good spot because it’s not expected. Just in case negotiations break down and-” 

“Shhh...I think we’re being monitored.” The glasses guy spoke to Kurono. The 3 men looked over their shoulder at you but you kept your eyes to the screen. “C’mon Nemouto, she/he/they aren’t even paying attention to us. Anyway, the deal shouldn’t take too long Overhaul.” Kurono then spoke to the golden eyed man...Overhaul. Suddenly his phone rang. He answered it, mumbling something lowly and then hung up. “Boss you stay here. Me and Nemouto are going to handle the exchange.” Then Kurono and Nemouto left the laundromat, leaving Overhaul to stand there rather awkwardly (yet still calm at the same time). After a while, you began to feel that feeling of being watched carrying on far too long. You peeked up and saw him standing closer, staring down at you intently. “Uh...hello?” You chuckled nervously. You were met with intense silence for a moment. As soon as you were about to look at your phone again, you heard him utter a small ‘hello’. You offered him a seat next to you but he hesitated at first. Ultimately he decided to have a seat, leaving an empty chair between you two for space you presumed. He also hadn’t sat until he took out a wipe and cleaned the empty seat. Then he sat down. “Pardon my curiosity for a moment, but you seem like a new face around here..” He started small talk with you. “Oh yeah, I just moved here actually! I heard there were good job opportunities here that didn’t really heavily center on the usage of quirks. Job hunting seems harder these days when you’re qurikless.” His eyebrow raised at your words. You successfully peaked his interests. “Oh, quirkless? How rare in this society. What is your name if you don’t mind me asking.” 

“It’s Y/N...Y/N L/N. What about you?” You reached out to shake his hand. He stared at your hand and looked back up at you. “You may call me Overhaul. Oh, I don’t shake hands. Too much risk involved with bacteria and such.” He said shortly. “Ah, sorry. I guess I should’ve assumed that since you’re wearing those gloves and all.” Suddenly the washer went off to signal your clothing completing it’s cycle. You excused yourself and went to load the clothes into the dryer. The issue arose when you dropped a quarter and it rolled under the machines. “Oh no! Aw man!” You sighed in defeat. You were mentally preparing for your walk back to the apartment to retrieve a quarter when you heard a clinking sound and the dryer starting up. You looked up and saw Overhaul standing there. “Thank you so much! Ugh, I’m such an idiot for bringing exact change with me. I should’ve been prepared.” You bullied yourself a bit. “it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with being precise most of the time. Your problem just now wasn’t that you brought exact change, but the fact that you clumsily dropped it.” You laughed at his seriousness and he tilted his head. “Was something I said funny?”

“No, it’s just that you seem like the type of person to lead a group of people less serious than you are.”

“You have no idea...” He sighed and you giggled at him. Before you knew it, the men returned to retrieve him and your clothes were down drying. “Goodbye Y/N. I do hope there’s a chance we can meet again soon enough.” He bid you farewell as you folded your dry clothing. For some reason, he left your heart afloat and curiosity coupled with the need to chat with him some more had overtaken you.

“Overhaul...”

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TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

[trainer-stealthclaw]

Drowning Through Time

Summary:  With every timeloop that passes, Ayano, the Snake of Retaining Eyes, is pulled deeper into an abyss that feels all too much like one of her own making. Genre: Fantasy/Angst Pairing: Ayano Tateyama/Shintaro Kisaragi (mentioned) Word count: 1911 A/N: This is a counterpart to a previous fic of mine, Never-Ending, which can be read here.  TW: Suicide mention

Read on FF.Net

She watches through his eyes. She recorded everything into his memories. Every time, he fails. Every time, the loop repeats.

Sometimes, he dies on his way home from the amusement park along with the rest of the Mekakushi Dan. Others, he's killed during the hostage takeover at the mall. Rarely, it’s in the sinister laboratory under the school…if he manages to get that far.

And then there are the times when he doesn't even make it to eighteen years, where he throws his own life away. Where she's forced to watch as he gives up on the world and everything in it, unable to turn her eyes away from the horrifying sight. And usually, it's all her fault. Those are the times she hates the most.

Ayano isn't sure how much more she can bear. The timeloops have been going on for so long, she'd lost count centuries ago. She isn't even sure if she really is herself, anymore. She had long ago given up her physical humanity, back when she had taken on the role of the Snake of Retaining Eyes, and whenever she speaks to Shintaro, in the few loops where he managed to awaken to her presence, she grows even more sure that she had given up her humanity in spirit as well.

Not that it mattered, she supposes. Nothing much does, anymore.

She watches as he speaks awkwardly to the version of her from this timeloop. Both of them fifteen, without so much of a guess as to what was waiting for them in that grim future.

The Ayano of this timeline smiles shyly, fiddling with her bright red scarf as she chats with Shintaro.

So innocent, Ayano thinks. She wonders what this other version of herself would think, if she knew just how many times her actions had led to countless timelines' downfalls, how many loops she had sabotaged by inadvertently breaking Shintaro's spirit with her eventual death.

Such an irony, really. Everything she has worked towards, everything that she had to sacrifice her own humanity for, was destroyed by none other than, well, herself.

She used to wonder what drove her counterpart to her death. One would think that technically being the same person would mean that she understood. But she doesn’t. The timeline that she had originated from is completely different from the ones she has seen, since becoming the Snake of Retaining Eyes.

She, herself, had never been Shintaro's classmate, unlike this one. In fact, she hadn’t even made it to middle school. She had dropped out when she was barely out of elementary school, the sight of her parents’ deaths fresh in her mind and vengeful resentment towards innocent Mary festering in her heart.

As far as she knew, this Ayano doesn’t know Mary. Has never even met the girl. Instead, she is friends with schoolmates Haruka and Takane, the two whom she herself had never gotten the chance to know in her own life. And from what she has gathered, her younger siblings still love this Ayano.

That…is something that she cannot really say for herself. Not since the accident.

This Ayano, that Shintaro encounters in each timeloop, is completely different from her. They might as well be entirely different people.

To be honest, she resents her. Not only is she throwing a wrench in her goal, to end this eternal cycle, but as far as she could tell, this Ayano has everything. Her family loves her. Her friends love her. She gets to go to school and be normal. She gets to spend time with her beloved (in her own timeline, Ayano barely got more than a day).

So…why? Why does this Ayano give it all up?

Her questions are answered in one timeline, when Kano, her foster brother, gives a rough explanation that leaves her furious and hungering for more answers that no one would give.

The fact that this version of Ayano is staking her very existence on the chance to stop the Snake of Clearing Eyes from achieving his goal is, perhaps, far too expected to be surprising (it is exactly what she herself is doing, is it not?).  But to think that she is purposefully driving him into a corner, unwittingly giving him the excuse to force Mary to restart each timeloop and keep them trapped in this cycle? There is irony, and then there is cruelty. Never did Ayano think for one moment that her biggest obstacle would be herself.

It is surely her punishment, Ayano thinks to herself, for everything that she had done in her own life. As if giving up her humanity could ever make up for her sins, the grief she had caused.

As much as Ayano hates the Snake of Clearing Eyes, sometimes she supposes that maybe, she hates herself all the more.

—

She's died again. Ayano watches through Shintaro's tear-filled eyes. She herself feels nothing. This timeloop is likely doomed to fail, anyway. She knows the chain of events like the back of her hand now.

Before the week is out, Shintaro will officially be pulled out of school. By this evening, he'll already be shutting himself in his room.

Within the year, he'll meet Ene, the supposed artificial intelligence who is far more than meets the eye.

Whether he dies soon after that, or later down the line, the chain of events has already begun. This chain of time, that is like a noose constricting her neck. It doesn’t matter how much she screams and fights against it.

This is the fate she has sentenced herself to. This is her punishment for having the audacity to believe that they could make things right, that they could end this eternal cycle of tragedy. It is her hubris, hers and her counterpart’s, that led them to this damnation.

She, trapped in the mind of the one she loved but couldn’t reach, and her, condemned to an infinite world of loneliness in the Heat Haze realm. The two of them burying their feelings and humanity for the sake of a cause that would never come to fruition. Two sides of the same coin, both as foolish and reckless as the other.

She listens to Shintaro crying in the darkness of his room.

Shintaro…I definitely don’t deserve your tears, you know?

—

The clockwork whirs and clicks underneath them, a familiar metallic melody that she had grown used to. The musical rhythm of time itself, playing for them in this space that is only theirs. Not a space for comfort or heartfelt emotions. Those aren’t things she is allowed to have. Emotions are something to be stifled and choked.

No, this is a space for cold facts and uncomfortable truths. Where reality would come crashing down on him as he learns the horrifying truth, and she’d play the part of the callous snake that only appears to resemble the girl he loves.

(In fairness, he isn’t wrong, when he accuses her of being a fake. The Ayano he knows would never look at him with a frigid smile or such empty eyes. His Ayano is bright and full of life, her smile echoing memories of summer days. She, on the other hand, had long forgotten how to curl her lips in such a gentle expression or believe in things like heroism or friendship. It is for that same reason that she never wears that silly scarf. The red scarf is the symbol of a hero, something she could never be. Sometimes, she wonders when she had forgotten the ideals that she had once sworn by. Maybe she is nothing but the snake he sees in her).

Shintaro stands in front of her. His eyes are wide, watching her. His fingers tremble as he clutches at the hem of his jacket. He seems terrified beyond belief, now that he knows the truth of this tragedy that they are bound to.

Well, it isn’t as if she hadn’t expected this reaction from him. Anyone would be overwhelmed by centuries worth of memories. And it wasn’t like she was much better, being the keeper of those recollections.

She regards him with a curious tilt of the head as she looms over him. She never quite got used to the serpentine form that she takes when speaking to him like this, even if it has been centuries since she had been a real human being.

In the distance, she hears the faint chiming of bells. Their time is almost up.

Ayano takes a deep breath. This is the part you must play. Now, do it well.

She pushes herself to sound urgent. Pretend she has any semblance of hope. At the very least, she should give him some incentive to fight. If not for herself, then for their friends, those kids who don’t deserve to be a part of this tragic tale. She owes them that much, at least, she thinks.

“A new timeloop approaches,” she tells him. “Now that you remember the secrets of this never-ending tragedy, what will you do?”

It isn’t any use asking him, to be honest. She knows him too well. Has been with him far too long not to. This is where he gives up, the knowledge overwhelming him with despair. This would be another failure. Another regret to drown in.

She braces herself for the crushing sense of defeat to overwhelm them both.

But instead he stares at her, determination in his crimson eyes. They seem to burn, blazing with something that she hasn’t seen from him in a long time. Her breath catches in her throat.

“I was given this power for a reason. This time, that Clearing Eyes bastard will be the one to pay. I’ll make sure that this never-ending summer finishes for good.”

As if in response to his words, the bells toll around them, singing their songs of promise. Light fills the room. It’s blinding, like the dawn of a new morning. Relief bubbles up in her chest. The crushing weight in her lungs lifts.

For the first time in forever, Ayano breathes. And she smiles.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 21/32 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Dragon Age II Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution, Drowning, Wilderness Survival Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

All around Yvanne the enormous cypress thrummed with life. If there was a world beyond the belly of the hollow tree, she didn’t quite believe it.  

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Of course you don’t understand,” her great grandmother said kindly. Distant bells seemed to ring with every one of her words. All of a sudden Yvanne wasn’t sure if the old woman’s lips were actually moving when she spoke to her. “Who could possibly expect you to?”

“Why did you bring me here? That spirit I saw—was that you?”

“In a way,” the old woman allowed. “But I did not bring you here. You brought yourself.”

“But you called me. You told me to come home.”

“Is that what you heard?” She smiled. “Oh, my daughter.”

That stung. “Stop it,” Yvanne growled. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not as well as I’d like. But we have met, in the world beneath the world.”

“You’ve been spying on me,” Yvanne realized. “Through the Fade. Just what gave you the right?”

The old woman’s bright eyes flashed. “Precisely the same thing that gives you to look in on those you wish to see.”

“That’s—that’s not the same,” Yvanne faltered. “I didn’t want to look. I tried not to look. I couldn’t control it.”

“But you’d like to. And so you are here.”

“No, I’m here because you called me. I’m here because I had just settled into a perfectly contented life when all of a sudden I became tormented by these voices—your voice.”

Yvanne could load quite a lot of furious accusation into a short phrase spoken softly, but the old woman remained unmoved. “Believe me, my daughter, I do not have the power to bring about what you experienced. If you heard my voice, it was as a trickle in a torrent. You have begun to awaken as a spirit mage.” 

“And just what in the void does that mean?”

In tones of infinite patience: “For years you have hobbled yourself; now you are beginning to walk freely for the first time. Of course you were overwhelmed. Anyone would be. Nobody here in Dairsmuid awakens in their third decade of life, without the benefit of any guidance whatsoever.” In tones of bottomless sorrow: “You have been done a great disservice.”

Yvanne stood for a while, feeling all the hot air leak out of her.

“So can you help me?” she said, defeated. “Or not?”

“Of course I can. And I will. If you choose it. But how far you walk along the path is always up to you.”

Something sat uncomfortably in Yvanne’s stomach. “Alright, fine. Can you at least answer me this?” she said wearily. “Where is my mother?”

The old woman cast her eyes down. “That I do not know. She never came here.”

An unspoken hope died in her chest. “My father, then? My sisters?”

“Three of your sisters live,” the old woman said. “In one way or another. But of all who I called, only you returned.”

All she did not say fell upon Yvanne like a mountain. She dropped her head. “I see.”

“Oh, my daughter. I am sorry.” She sounded like she meant it. 

More questions sprung to her lips. When did my father die? And how? Which of her four sisters lived? And how? But as soon as they occurred to her, she thought better of them. She didn’t want to know. Of course she didn’t. If she’d wanted to know, she would have seen it in the Fade. It was a cruel thing to know about herself. 

“Why me, then?”

“You are the one who answered.”

“No. Why call at all? My father never spoke of his home. We have nothing to do with each other, blood relatives or not. What do you want with me?”

“Is it so wrong for an old woman to wish to see her lost daughter?” The old woman’s eyes closed. She said no more for many long moments. “I apologize. I am tired now. I must walk in the Fade for a time.”

“What? But I’ve only just arrived!”

“We will speak again. For now you will go with Itai; he will be your companion today.”

“Now hold on, I—” Yvanne began to protest, but the old woman was already asleep, having slipped into dreams in the space of a few breaths. She was alone. But she did not feel alone. If anything she felt like an intruder. The tree keeping her great-grandmother alive thrummed steadily, like a heartbeat.

“Yvanne?”

She turned to face a young man with wide cheekbones and a halo of black curls. “How did you know my name? Or that I was here?”

He gave her a polite, puzzled smile. “Buya called me, of course. I’ve finished my training for today, so I can show you around.” He was younger than her. Was he even twenty? “I’m Itai—I think we might be cousins.”  He crossed his right arm over his chest and tilted his chin down in greeting.

She stiffened. “Well, maybe we’re cousins, but you don’t know me, and I’m only staying here for as long as it takes me to get this—this problem under control, so don’t get too comfortable. There’s no need for all this…this…”

Itai shrugged. “Well, you’re going to have to wait at least a few hours anyway before she wakes up, so you might as well see the city, right?” 

—

On her way to the great cypress, Yvanne had paid no attention to her surroundings at all. A compulsion to reach the tree where her ancestor dwelled had consumed her, and only now had it loosened its hold on her. Now she was finally seeing the city with clear eyes.

Dairsmuid was a city built upon the water. Wooden planks, shiny and smooth from the thousands of feet that walked upon them, were its streets, but so was the water; everywhere were gondoliers carrying goods by canoe, chatting with each other as they passed. Some of the buildings were built in the trees themselves, and what trees they were; they flared at their twisted, knotty bases. Some grew fused together, making masses large enough to support homes. Circling steps were bolted to many of them, and cables ran between the boughs, sending packages and messages zipping overhead.

Itai introduced Yvanne to more distant cousins and uncles and aunts than she could possibly keep track of, men and women of all ages. Each one greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a quick embrace, too swiftly and with too much assurance for her to protest.

And not a single one of them batted an eye at all the magic.

Magic didn’t seem to exactly be common in Dairsmuid, but every once in a while she would spot a shopkeeper levitating his wares, or a gondolier lighting a lantern with a snap of his fingers. Everywhere she saw spirits, mostly formless wisps, but larger, more distinct spirits, too. Children chased them like chickens, earning scoldings from their parents when they were caught. She watched, rapt, one group of mage children play a game of spark-shooting with each other. As she watched something cracked open deep inside her, and suddenly she wanted to cry.

“Alright, there?” said Itai. She snapped out of it, drawing her eyes away from a scene where one child chased a wisp right over the edge and into the water, where he was fished out by an irritated gondolier. She just barely managed to nod.

Itai kept rambling as he took her around, away from the center of the city—”Dairsmuid’s mostly on the water now, but old timers will tell you how the sea used to be much further out“—past rows of fishermen hauling in oysters and crayfish—”They’re best with lemon sauce,”—inland towards residential areas that were raised over mud and peat rather than standing water. They went past shrines to Andraste laid with offerings of fire-lilies—”What? Of course we worship Andraste! What a strange question,”—past spirit-lanterns nestled in the branches of the cypresses—”They’re always lit, so nobody falls off the platform. And if someone does, the spirits signal the night watchman to come over and fish them out…it’s usually just the drunks, though.”

Yvanne found herself liking Itai quite a lot. Until—

“And my Templar training isn’t so bad, usually, but master has us getting up so early, and usually at night I find myself thinking of so many things and unable to sleep—”

She stopped in her tracks. It took him a few seconds to notice, and he turned, puzzled.

“Your what training?”

“Templar training,” he repeated. “Are you alright? You look like you ate something curdled.”

“I didn’t realize Dairsmuid had Templars.” She did not try to keep the hiss out of her voice. Including my own family.

He stared at her, uncomprehending. “Sorry, I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

How in Thedas was she to respond to that? “So was that why they picked you to give me the tour? Were you supposed to keep an eye on me and cut me down in case I turned out to be dangerous after all? I knew I was right to be suspicious—”

“Hold on!” Itai was laughing. Actually laughing! “I think you’re confused. In Dairsmuid, Templar is a ceremonial role. We don’t take lyrium or anything like the westerners. I’m not even being taught to fight with this thing—” He tapped the ornate weapon belted to his hip. “It’s all just rituals and basic forms.” 

“Then—” She stumbled. “Then what’s the point?”

He shrugged. “Tradition? Got to be a Circle at Dairsmuid, with Templars. So we have them. We’re supposed to keep the Seers safe, but the Seers don’t really need protection, so it’s pretty boring. Once I finish training, I’m probably going to be a fisherman like my da. Look, the sword’s ceremonial—it’s not even sharp.”

She must have still been staring. He smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I don’t really know much about western Circles.”

Maker, but this place was weird.

“I can’t believe the Chantry lets this place exist,” Yvanne said just as the silence was growing awkward..

“Well, Rivain’s pretty far from Orlais.” He shrugged. “We do things our own way. Really, the Qunari up north are a much bigger problem, but Dairsmuid’s not anywhere near Kont-Arr. Anyway, the Seers wouldn’t let anything happen.”

“Just what is a Seer? Exactly?”

Itai looked at her like she’d just asked the color of the sky. “Huh? But you’re a Seer. Aren’t you?”

She shook her head.

“You know—a woman who communes with the spirits. You call them mages out west, right?”

“But plenty of men are mages,” said Yvanne. “What do you do with the boys who are born with magic?”

Itai snorted, laughing.“Nobody’s born with magic. Spirits pick who they want to talk to. And sure, boys can talk to spirits, but they can’t be Seers.”

“Why not?”

“They just can’t.” He scratched his head. “Look, I don’t really know. Why don’t you ask Maita? She’s not a Seer yet, but she will be. Come on, you’ll like her. I have to get home and help da clean today’s catch, anyway, so I’ll leave you with her, if that’s alright.”

Three girls sat laughing and weaving reed baskets as Itai and Yvanne approached. One of them stood in anticipation, her eyes widening in delight. All three girls wore bright brass jewelry, but one—the Seer?—wore the most; bangles on her wrists and ankles, and a headdress of overlapping discs that glittered and clinked with her tiniest movement. 

“Is this her?” she demanded of Itai, and didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh, it is! Oh, welcome! We are also so glad you have come.” She jangled as she wrapped Yvanne in a tight, loud embrace. “Ambuya told us you had come.”

“But how—”

“Oh, but your hair!” Maita gasped. Never had Yvanne heard anyone sound so heartbroken over hair. She glanced over her shoulder to plead wordlessly with Itai, but he was already grinning, waving goodbye, and backing away, the traitor. “You poor thing, you must have been through so much.” 

Yvanne suddenly became aware of her body, sharply and unpleasantly. She hadn’t looked at herself in so long that she had forgotten that others could still see her. Maker, she didn’t even want to think about how she probably smelled She self-consciously tucked a piece of it behind her ear. Unending months of neglect and salt had caused it to dread up into unsalvageable masses.

“You must let me fix it for you. Oh, I love to do braids, but–may I?” She reached out to touch Yvanne’s hair. She struggled not to flinch. “No, I don’t think there’s enough left to do braids. How about knots? Or twists? I do the best twists; ask anyone.” She turned to her two friends, clinking, for confirmation. Both nodded earnestly.

Nobody had done Yvanne’s hair since she was nine years old. Loriel had been useless at it and nobody else had come close to earning the right. “I—Okay.”

“Yes! Wonderful! Please, do come in. You must have some of my beads. I’m getting married soon, so I won’t get to wear them, and I don’t even have any sisters to give them to. Only brothers–it makes me so sad!”. Then an expression came over her face. “Wait! You aren’t married, are you? I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed…”

Yvanne felt the absence of the ring upon her finger, and answered, truthfully, “No, I’m not married.”

Maita’s animated expression returned. “Oh, good! Then you can have the beads. Come, come!”

She tugged her inside, enticing her friends to come join her in solving Yvanne’s hair problem. She was altogether reminded of Leliana. Yvanne slipped out of her grasp. “Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but—we’ve only just met.”

Maita gave her a confused smile. “But of course we’ve met. In the world beneath the world.”

Again that phrase.

“Maita, you’re shaming her,” one of the others said, rolling her eyes. “She has no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh,” Maita said, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, no, you really don’t, do you?”

If Yvanne had not spent the past years being humbled over and over again, she might have taken offense. As it was, she only shrugged.

Maita covered her face in shame. “I’m so sorry—I assumed, since you were training with Ambuya—we were all so jealous when we heard…”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m afraid I only look Rivaini. I’m not a part of any of this. I’m certainly not a Seer.”

“But you are a Seer,” Maita said encouragingly. “Or you will be.”

She crossed her arms, doubtful. “She said I was only beginning to learn. That I was already late.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll learn. You’re her blood, after all.”

“Isn’t half of Dairsmuid her blood? I’ve lost track of how many cousins I’ve met today.”

Maita laughed. She had a musical laugh. “Perhaps not so much as half! Our Buya had many sons, but even those who are not her blood are still her family; she is buya to all of us.”

Yvanne, who had been assuming that ‘Buya’ was the old woman’s name, made a small adjustment.

Dairsmuid had a public bathhouse, and she was in luck—today was the women’s day to use it. The next several hours went to matters of hair and beads and other things so trivial that Yvanne had nearly forgotten they existed. Was there really still a world of moisturizing hair cream and scents and jewelry? She had liked such things, once, because in the Circle they had been—if not forbidden, then strictly discouraged, and difficult to get a hold of. The habit had stayed with her as the Vigil’s keeper, and she had yet to be cured of it. It was so ridiculous. It was so nice.

Somewhere in this process she told the story of her travels. She hadn’t meant to—she’d thought it far too painful—but somehow it all came out. She started with hiding in Highever—she left out that she had ever been a Grey Warden—and by the time she got to the part with the pirates her hair was done. It had been long all her life, and was twisted close to her head and bound with bells and beads. She looked both like and unlike Isabela, like and unlike her old self. She had never felt so light; she couldn’t stop tilting her head back and forth and feeling the absence of the weight. It was strange, but not—bad. No, not bad at all.

By then it was time for the evening meal was upon them, and Maita’s mother—a stout woman who had clearly never taken no for an answer in her life—was insisting. Yvanne ate with Maita and her mother and her younger brothers who stared at her with curious eyes the size of dinner plates. Maita’s mother, it turned out, was not from Dairsmuid, but from a village on the eastern coast. 

“—I came here to be with my girl, of course. She wanted to learn here in the capital, and I was not about to let her go alone,” she said proudly.

Yvanne slept there on a palette by the smouldering hearth, sick with imagining what it would be like to have a mother like that.

As the days passed and her great-grandmother did not summon her, she was folded into Maita’s family almost without noticing. Maita had three younger brothers who Yvanne somehow fell into the watching of—boys of six, ten, and twelve, who begged her to show them how to make lightning. She helped with the chores, kept the boys busy. She even learned a few words of the local Rivaini dialect. On the last day of the week, she helped decorate the household shrine to Andraste with marsh-lillies and necklaces of carved wooden beads. The prayers spoken over the shrine were not entirely unlike the Chant, but not entirely like it, either.

Finally came market day, so Yvanne saw the Dairsmuid market. Maita tugged her along as she did her family’s shopping, informing her of what fruits were in season and asking frequent questions about what things were like in Ferelden. 

“Oh, I used to love the star-reader,” Maita sighed, pointing out a woman’s nondescript stall. “Of course, it is not Seeing, but that’s what made it special. My friends and I used to giggle for hours over the fates the stars had in store for us. The men we would marry, how many children we would have…” She trailed off, then finished cheerfully, “But I’ll be getting married soon.”

Yvanne could not help but notice that no husband-to-be was in evidence.

Maita clinked loudly as she laughed. “I haven’t met him yet, of course! He lives in a village far away from here, one that needs a Seer. Once I have passed the ritual, I’ll be ready to serve. I’m told he’s very kind. Is it bad that I hope he’s handsome, too?” She giggled behind her hand. “But you aren’t married! Do you want to consult the star-reader? Don’t you ever wonder what your husband will be like?

“Hm,” said Yvanne. “No, thank you.”

Soon after Maita encountered a friend of hers, and fell inextricably into an animated conversation that Yvanne couldn’t follow at all. Slighted, and resentful that she felt so, she wandered away. She could hear in the middle distance bell-like music. The source of it turned out to be a Vashoth woman sitting cross-legged, producing the tune from an instrument Yvanne had no name for, a wooden box lined with metal rods that produced unearthly music under the Vashoth’s careful fingers. Too soon, the song ended, and she lifted her hornless head to smile in thanks at the crowd. 

Only then did Yvanne notice the scars around her lips.

“Did you mean to buy something?” the Vashoth asked suddenly. Yvanne forced herself not to stare.

“I have no money,” she stammered, then added, “Sorry.”

The saarebaas sized her up, and smiled. As she did, her scars instantly became the most noticeable thing about her. “Oh, I see. You’re new; one of Buya’s girls, aren’t you? I am called Amarna.”

“So I’m told,” Yvanne said stiffly

“You’re a bit old to start training.”

“I’ve had training.”

The saarebas laughed shrugging. “Mm. Well, it was probably better than the training I got.”

Yvanne’s eyes flicked to the woman’s scars again. 

Amarna snorted good-naturedly. “Admiring these?” she said, touching her lips.

“I wasn’t—”

The former saarebas laughed. “Go ahead and look, I’m not ashamed.”

Yvanne wanted to apologize, but now she worried that it would only make it worse. Luckily the awkwardness was broken by a little Vashoth girl in pigtails, no more than eight years old, and already as high as Yvanne’s shoulder.

“Look what my friend showed me how to do!” the little girl said breathlessly to—presumably—her mother, ignoring Yvanne entirely. She extended her pudgy, little-girl hands palms up. Fireballs bloomed there, first, red, then yellow, then green and blue. Yvanne startled backwards and nearly knocked over a rack of fishing spears. “Are you proud of me?”

“Very good!” her mother beamed as Yvanne desperately tried to stabilize the rack of spears. “Indeed I am proud of you. But do you remember the rules?”

The girl let the fireballs dissipate. “No fire without my tutors watching,” she said ruefully, rolling her eyes. 

“That’s right. Now go play.”

Only then did the little girl notice Yvanne and mutter a shy ‘hello’ before running off again.

“Sorry for her,” said the saarebas. “She’s always trying things she’s not quite ready for yet.”

“That…must be difficult.”

“I can’t even tell you how many times she’s hurt herself!” She shook her head. “But if she makes no mistakes, she’ll never learn.” 

Yvanne had been that age when she’d first discover her magic. She never would have dreamed of showing her father. She’d hidden it. Had prayed for the Maker to take it away. “I’m surprised you don’t worry.”

“Of course I worry! What mother doesn’t? But she has good teachers here. I’ll never be much of a mage, but the Seers take care of her. And if she’ll receive some scars for her own foolishness, she will never have scars like mine.” She said it in well-rehearsed tones, like this was a speech she had been obliged to recite too many times.

Yvanne remembered Cheddar, and what had happened to her sarebaaset. But no, she daren’t ask. Instead she said, “What kind of instrument is that?”

And like so Maita found her some minutes later, profusely apologizing for leaving her alone, exchanging pleasantries with Amarna, and finally dragged her away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” she said in hushed tones. “I forget that most people outside Rivain aren’t used to the freed saarebas. Quite a lot of them live here.”

That night Yvanne could not get to sleep beneath the unfamiliar ceiling. She thought of Amarna’s little daughter whose magic would only ever earn her a gentle admonition, and envy rose in her gorge like poison. What she would have given to have grown up here in Dairsmuid. What might she have become if her father had brought her here instead of to Ferelden? Why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he loved her enough to bring her here? All those years in Kinloch, the wretched thing that place made her—

She thought of Amarna’s scars, and thought—yes, it could have been worse. But it could have been better, too.

Yes, she was here now, but what good did that do her? It didn’t make up for it. Nothing ever would. Dairsmuid was not her home. If she had ever had one, it had been Vigil’s Keep.

That home was lost to her. Perhaps did not exist at all. Just like her mother and her father and her sisters. Everything was lost, lost—all that remained was here. A wave of nauseous longing rolled over her like the evening tide, and she went to sleep no less conflicted and confused.

—

She dreamt again of Loriel, buried deep within her tower of stone.  Her hair was longer now than it had ever been, neatly parted in the center. Somehow in their time apart it had stopped frizzing, and fell to her back in elegant feathers. Were there new lines on her face? How old was she now?

She was writing busily in a blank parchment manuscript, occasionally consulting a tome at her elbow. She scribbled for hours, only occasionally pausing to sip water or stand up to stretch. All these little gestures, so familiar, so utterly strange.

Who was she? Who was she?

“I never even knew you, did I?” Yvanne said to her, knowing she wouldn’t be heard. “Not that you were any better. You never knew me either, did you? I don’t think I ever felt more alone than when I was with you.”

And Loriel kept scratching away, oblivious. It was starting to make her angry.

“You know,” she said, “If it hadn’t been for all that fucking blood magic, maybe you could have heard me say all these things. Maybe you could have heard me at all. I was too much a coward to say what I meant to your face, and now you’ll never know how I really felt. You selfish fucking bitch.”

And then—

—Loriel looked up.

Her forehead wrinkled in that burningly familiar way. Her mouth began to form the shape of the word, who—?

The dream collapsed.

—

Yvaanne woke in the middle of the night, knowing that she was summoned to Dairsmuid’s great tree. She received no message; only a conviction that she was wanted, and an intuitive understanding of where to go. She walked there, barefoot, the ancient half-drowned forest singing all around her.

Buya was exactly where she had been, awake and bright eyed. “I am sorry to have woken you. Did I interrupt your dreaming?”

She shook her head. “I did not want that dream.”

“I see.” The old woman’s lips still did not move when she spoke. “Have you decided, then, if you will stay and learn from me?” 

“I…”

A heaviness lay on her heart. After a week in Dairsmuid, she had never missed the Vigil more. She missed her high grey walls, her fluttering banners, the smell of smelting iron in the air. She missed the training, the drinking games, the knowledge that everyone around her knew her name, that people would care if she was gone.

But here in Dairsmuid, everyone somehow knew her name. They would care if she was gone. So they didn’t know her, so what? Nobody had ever known her. 

Dairsmuid was here. Dairsmuid was now. And was love not born of base familiarity? Was love anything besides mere exposure, mere proximity? 

“Great-grandmother, I want to stay,” she said. “But…”

Ambuya waited, patient.

“But there’s someone I still love. Far from here.”

“Ah,” the old woman said. “I see. I will not pretend I am not disappointed, but it was good to lay my mortal eyes on you, my daughter.”

Yvanne shook her head, and knelt. Then she looked up, her eyes streaming. “And I never want to see or think about her, ever again. Please, grandmother—I am yours. Please, teach me.”

Ambuya smiled, reached out, and placed a hand on Yvanne’s bowed head. She was resolved; she would become a part of this. She would be one of many, and she would make this life a good one if it killed her.

[agentsterling]

SHIELD ID CARD REQUEST FORM

Alright, ya weirdos. So I used to run an ID making thing where people could message me and get an ID card for their SHIELD character made. Then I stopped doing it because I got really overwhelmed and didn’t feel like doing it. Then I vanished for like 5 years, my personal blip, and now I’m back. SOOOO, I dug out the old files. 

Only I don’t have photoshop anymore. I am using Photopea and Photopea doesn’t like the original fonts I was using for these cards. So it’s taken me a while but I finally got this card design up and running to my satisfaction again. 

Please follow the rules I have laid out for each design and I will try to get to these card requests in an orderly fashion. OR you could use this site I found which makes remarkably similar cards to the AoS design instantly and includes the clearance level. It’s really nice and also has a Hydra version. 

DESIGN 1

This design is based on the Agents of SHIELD tv series ID cards. It's all their design. I just reproduced it as best I could. 

What I will need to get this card made:

Design number 

Your Name

Gender

Hair Color

Height [When it doubt, look up the height of the FC]

Date you joined SHIELD (I imagine the cards expire and need to be renewed every 4 years or so. The date you JOINED will not be on the card, but it will be used to figure out when the card was last renewed and when it will again expire) If your character blipped, please tell me and I will put their issue date as 2023 which is the year everyone was blipped back. If your character is no longer with SHIELD and you just want something from before they left, let me know the year they left and I will make one with dates before then so you can pretend its their old ID. Or request specific years if you want. Would make it easier on me. lol

Title (Possibly having to do with your division. Examples from the show are: Administrator, field officer, Bio-Chem, Engineer, and Specialist) I will literally put anything you want.

Your Birthday

And a photo with a plain background [light or dark but preferably dark to match the ones from the show], preferably from the shoulders up. [They don't have to be looking at the camera but treat it as though they were literally getting their photo taken for their ID card. So no crazy poses or wacky outfits or weird angles. Straight up school picture day photo.]

The numbers and letters in the Card DNC No. section are totally random or based on my mood as I have no idea what a Card DNC No. is or what it's supposed to do... So... There's that.

The QR Codes are ACTUAL WORKING QR CODES and if you would like a specific message [Please keep them short. Longer ones are harder for you to scan and read] please let me know. Otherwise it will be a random surprise you can scan when you get it or I will just link it to your tumblr.

Send all of the above information through the tumblr chat and I will send the card to you through there as well. I will also post it on my tumblr with the tag ‘idcards’ which is where I keep all the ones I previously made. If I don’t hear from you after that I will assume there are no errors to be fixed.

DESIGN 2

This is based off of several designs I have seen online that I mooshed into one so this is not my ORIGINAL design. It looked neat so I recreated it and modified it to my liking.

What I will need to get this card made:

Design number

Your Name

Clearance Level (from 1 to 8)

Date you joined SHIELD (I imagine the cards expire and need to be renewed every 4 years or so. The date you JOINED will not be on the card, but it will be used to figure out when the card was last renewed and when it will again expire) If your character blipped, please tell me and I will put their issue date as 2023 which is the year everyone was blipped back. If your character is no longer with SHIELD and you just want something from before they left, let me know the year they left and I will make one with dates before then so you can pretend its their old ID. Or request specific years if you want. Would make it easier on me. lol

Title (Example, Agent, Head of _____, Administrator, ect)

And a photo with a plain light background, preferably from the shoulders up and showing the entire head. [They don’t have to be looking at the camera but treat it as though they were literally getting their photo taken for their ID card. So no crazy poses or wacky outfits or weird angles. Straight up school picture day photo.]

Send all of the above information through the tumblr chat and I will send the card to you through there as well. I will also post it on my tumblr with the tag ‘idcards’ which is where I keep all the ones I previously made. If I don’t hear from you after that I will assume there are no errors to be fixed.

DESIGN 3

This design is based on an image of Tony Stark’s ID badge I saw online. Design not my creation.

What I will need to get this card made:

Your Name

And a Letter designating your reason for being at SI [V for Visitor, S for Security, on the design I took it from Tony was an A I assume meaning Administrator or A class. Whatever. Give me a letter to work with.

And a photo with a plain background, preferably from the shoulders up. [They don’t have to be looking at the camera but treat it as though they were literally getting their photo taken for their ID card. So no crazy poses or wacky outfits or weird angles. Straight up school picture day photo.]

Your username is under the barcode at the bottom.

Send all of the above information through the tumblr chat and I will send the card to you through there as well. I will also post it on my tumblr with the tag ‘idcards’ which is where I keep all the ones I previously made. If I don’t hear from you after that I will assume there are no errors to be fixed.

If you have any questions or concerns please message me. This is just for fun. I don’t take payment or whatever.