#shin looks so done with every adult in this show

[barbwalken]

[lbxbx]

Cockpit 2 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood,

Previous | Next

Two weeks later you decided on going to the same club you celebrated Yoongi’s last weekend as a single man, and after a long debate with yourself, you choose a tight red dress with spaghetti straps which compliments your boobs, and you take pride in them.

You have the same table booked, Hoseok knows someone who manages to get the same table for you every time.

“I’m so sorry, I got off work late.” Taehyung joins you finally. “I had to get home and change, what did I miss?”

Taehyung’s personality and duality scares you. You and him met in a club, he seemed like the typical bad boy that was out of every girl’s league, until he got drunk and super wasted, and you started taking body shots off of each other, he needed friends like you, and he considers you the closest to him and his safe space he can be himself and comfortable. He comes to you when he has any minor inconvenience in his life, and you do a great job helping him, but with people outside of your circle, he’s suddenly mean, quiet and obnoxious, everyone gets obnoxious around new people, but he completely refuses to give in quickly, he has to study everyone first, he’s absolutely intelligent in a different way, and he can find out an individual’s personality based off of looks. 

“Yoongi and Mia arrived to Mauritius.” You unlock your phone to show him a picture Yoongi sent to your group chat, Yoongi and Mia feeding a giant turtle. Taehyung pouts. “We should have gone with them.”

“Honey moon is for sex and none of us is getting laid any time soon.” Jimin says in a serious tone, which makes Taehyung immediately interrupt- “Speak for yourself, I have a girlfriend.”

“You’re right, I think I grew my virginity back.” Jimin’s laugh is immediately wiped off when Jin kicks him in the shin. You click your tongue at Jin. “But he’s right.” You shrug. “Last time I had sex was back in march and I wasn’t so happy about it.”

“Oh please tell them what happened.” Hoseok took a sip of his drink, they look at you waiting for you to finish your story.

“No, my sex life is not going to be tonight’s topic.” You point at Hoseok, knowing if you finish your story they’re going to judge you so hard for it, they’re men after all.

“It’s an interesting subject and we’re all adults.” Jungkook interrupts and looks at Hoseok. “Is it that bad?”

Hoseok nods and you roll your eyes at him.

“What happened?” Seokjin asks, leaning forward eager to know more.

It is getting more embarrassing speaking of your sex life around a table full of men, but you actually finish. “I faked it and I don’t regret it.”

They are genuinely upset around the table as if you offended every man on planet earth and hurt their pride.

“Just tell him how he could’ve done it.” Jin whines, and Hoseok agrees. “That’s what I told her.”

“Oh shut up,” You huff and straighten your back. “One of you, get up and get us drinks let’s start the night.”

Jungkook excuses himself to use the bathroom, Jin gets up to order drinks and Jimin had to take a call outside the club.

Sitting across from Hoseok who was discussing with Taehyung the last time he had sex, you examine the club and look around, fingers intertwined, you start swaying your shoulders to the music before you grab your bottle of water and untwist it to take a few sips, you manage to spell some on your dress and chest which makes you gasp because that water is too cold for your liking.

“Shit.” You cuss under your breath and freeze in your chair, Taehyung is the first one to react and gets up. “I’ll get you tissues.” But Hoseok was even quicker to burrow some tissues from table right behind him, a familiar voice rings right across you, from behind Hoseok.

“There you go.”

“Thank you.” Hoseok pulls a few tissues and helps you dry yourself, you try to look behind Hoseok but he moves a lot and he is standing in the way, you grow impatient to know who that voice belongs to.

Hoseok finally sits down after making sure you’re alright, and finally about time, your eyes meet with the owner of that familiar voice.

Namjoon.

The moment your eyes meet, your stomach drops and you feel your shoulders tensing, you press your thighs together, and your lip lifts up in a tiny grin, you actually did get to see him again.

Your chest rises higher when your breathing becomes quicker and you clear your throat.

Are you nervous or just horny and thirsty over Namjoon?

He grabs his drink and takes a tiny sip, mirroring your grin, his dimple barely showing which makes you panic, because at this moment, you’re high key just staring at him with lifted eyebrows and wide eyes.

Hoseok and Taehyung to immersed in the conversation to notice.

You out of habit cross your legs and chew down on your lip, Jin comes back with so many drinks in his hands, he can barely put them down, Hoseok helps him and you finally take the drink you ordered in your hands, you bring it closer to your mouth, eyes still attached to Namjoon, you wink at him the way her winked at you that night, and you take a huge sip of your drink. Did you actually just do that? You’re totally panicking on the inside.

You try so hard to maintain your facial expression and keep it steady, which makes you clearly see him stress about it, he puts his drink down and scratches the back of his dark hair, he laughs too which makes him earn looks and stares from friends, he says something to them and you see him explain with his hands, his long fingers and knuckles making a show entertaining enough for you to glue your eyes to.

You hide your laugh behind your cup and take another sip. He’s clumsy.

“Y/N” Jimin calls out your name, you snap your head to him, he’s holding a tray full of shots. “We’re playing truth or dare, are you joining?”

You look back at Namjoon, you see him putting his hands on the table and using it for support to get up, he heads to the bar and faces the dance floor, his elbows leaning back on the bar, he looks at you and tilts his head towards the empty chair next to him. Is he asking you to come?

You decide to act on it quickly and shake your head to Jimin, “You guys start, I need to get a few more drinks before.” You get up and put your hand behind Jimin’s back. “I’ll join you when I’m ready.”

They already start arguing over the rules of the game, you make your way towards the bar slowly, you know he’s watching you, you brush softly against his shoulder which makes your nose pick up his manly cologne and now that you’re standing next to him, this man is so big and tall.

His breath is already irregular and yours is too, but you applaud yourself for not making it obvious, you can feel his big arm brushing against your bare skin and so can he, your skin burns him, and with that alone, he rewinds the scenario he saw in the shower, and he tells himself to focus.

You try so hard not to look at him with the corner of your eyes, and you focus on the bartender, you clear your throat and say in a tone you don’t recognize, you actually cringe at yourself on the inside, are you really trying to sound calm and sexy?

But it works because Namjoon just unlocked something new to use in his imagination when he jerks off to you in the shower.

“Can I please get a mojito—“ You turn to look at Namjoon, you eye him from head to toe, “And a beer for the gentleman.”

Namjoon is already struggling with you, he realizes that both of you are making a move on each other, so he’s trying to stay calm and cool.

“Coming right up.” The bartender leaves to make you the drinks. The tension increases and you look at him, his eyes meet yours, before he laughs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

You laugh too and climb up on the stool, you cross your legs and lean one elbow on the bar, facing Namjoon.

It takes seconds for you to pick up courage to start the talk since he isn’t saying anything.

“You’re the one who asked me to come here.” You start, he nods slowly, eyes focused on people on the dance floor. “Well, practically, I didn’t.”

He’s so nervous, so are you, but he’s way more nervous than you are.

“Mhm.” You nod, staring at his face from aside, his nose, his lips between his teeth, you lean your chin on your palm and still look at him and eating him with your eyes.

He can feel your eyes on him, he turns and meets your eyes, he laughs nervously again, you feel bad for him so you actually decide to look away and make him less uncomfortable, the bartender puts your drinks down, you grab the beer and hand it to Namjoon, then grab your drink and clink it with the beer in his hand.

He looks at you, this time not laughing, he brings the bottle closer to his mouth and takes a gulp, eyes still connected to yours, you take a sip from your drink and put it down.

“Are those your friends?” You point your head towards the table he was sitting at.

He nods. “Co workers actually.”

“What do you do?” You tilt your head, trying to build an image in your head, he looks like someone employed in a company, you’ve seen him twice, every time dressed in a suit. Probably a bank. No he could a teacher.

“Do you want to guess?” He studies your face. “You’re already trying to guess.”

“Smart ass, Hmm..” You nod and laugh when he laughs, you’re amused, is he actually smart or were you too easy to read?

“I’m a—“ He’s interrupted by you shaking your head, you want to play this game now. “Let me try and guess.”

He finds it cute, he closes his mouth and gestures you with hands to go ahead and try to guess.

You look into his face and try to build an image of what he could do in his life? Not that tanned, so it must be an indoor job, tall and big which means he could be an athlete, not too big to be a coach, he looks smart, probably a teacher? No offence to teachers but they’re not that sculpted and good looking.

Your eyes switch down to his body, you look at his hands, then look back at him, wondering if it’s okay to look at them, he shrugs and gives you his right hand, you hold it into yours, twist and turn it, look at his fingers, long and fucking attractive but he totally doesn’t draw or grade papers.

“At least give me a hint.” You shrug, letting go of his hand even though you don’t want to, secretly wondering if it’s okay to put them in your mouth at the spot. “Do you wear a uniform?” You snap yourself out of your thoughts.

He nods. Your brain starting to work harder than before, could he a police officer? Or in health care? Probably a soldier, he could be a chef too, they wear uniforms too.

“Do you cook?” You ask which makes him laugh like you said the biggest and fattest joke ever. “Actually no, I suck at cooking.”

You giggle and tilt your head. “Do you work in a building?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.” You’re even more confused now.

“Just tell me what do you do.” You say in frustration, he finds your lack of patience cute, he takes a sip and actually blurts out the job that you never expected to hear at all, but now you think about it, it suits him so much.

“I’m an aircraft pilot.” He says, his fingers intertwining together.

Your jaw visibly drops, they do actually exist, you only saw pilots in airports or in movies, you would’ve never thought you’d meet one in actual life.

“You’re a captain?” You squeak, he nods, his eyes on your lips, busted for staring at them, your head moves slowly left and right. “That’s so fucking hot.”

You actually just said that, you can’t be totally proud of yourself.

“Tell me more about Y/N,” His voice sounded so deep and low, making you tilt your head, he looks totally different to you now.

“What do you want to know?” You ask in return, he takes another gulp and puts his beer down. “What do you do?” He changes his tone for emphasis and stares at you, he’s probably pretending to be assuming but he already knows since he saw your pass card the other week.

“Can I guess?” He asks, which makes you scoff and bite back. “It’s totally unfair, you already saw my pass card.”

He looks confused for a second but shrugs right after, his lips forming a small pout. “But I was being genuinely serious, I just saw your first name.”

He did sound honest but for all you know he could be lying, you nod and tell him to try to guess, which makes him turn to fully face you, he hands now on his thighs, his head slightly tilted to the side, he’s trying so hard to find a job that he thinks matches someone as attractive as you are.

He hums, “Literature probably.” He questions, “A teacher, or a writer. Although your personality gives me the vibe of a human resources type of girl.”

He’s thinking out loud, trying to read your face seeing if your facial expression changes when he mentions the jobs, waiting for you to say yes, but you don’t give him anything to start with.

It’s so hard for him to focus, you think he’s staring at you trying to guess what you do, but he’s just feeding his eyes that are hungry for you, it was given to him on a silver platter, little do you know he’s biting your nipples in his head.

“It’s definitely not as interesting as yours.” You interrupt his train of thoughts, the body language on this man is driving you insane, the way he sits, the face he makes when he thinks, his fingers tapping on his thick thighs. You take a sip from your drink and look behind you at your friends making loud noises heard across the club, they’re enjoying their game.

“Tell me.” He gives up.

“I’m an emergency medicine resident.” He seems genuinely shocked and surprised, words struggling to come out of his so goddamn juicy lips, he ends up saying “Wow.” Then laughing.

“What’s funny Namjoon?” You lift an eyebrow, he’s a little startled when he heard his name, he looks at you and shakes his head. “No offense, doctors are not that good looking, and you’re too young—“ He’s interrupted with you smacking down your pass card on the counter and pushing it towards him.

“Not that I have to prove it to you.” You challenge him, he looks at the pass card and scratches the back of his head. “I’m sorry.”

You felt bad for him because you weren’t offended, he was over thinking his attitude, and to help ease his torture, you grab back the card and stand up, you’re standing way too close to him right now, he’s worried you’re mad or upset, you shoot him a soft grin to let him know that there’s no hard feelings.

“It’s okay, I need to get back to my friends.” You say, hand rising to slowly tug on a strand of his pushed back dark hair, you’re subtly flirting, but you also make him want you more.

He froze in his seat, eyes attached to yours, the look on his face almost as if he’s afraid he won’t see you again, he’s not done with you and he wants more, and things can’t end this way.

You want more too, but he’s still a man, you can’t offer him anything without him offering it first, or he should at least show some effort and ask for more.

A wild and loud debate is going through his head now, you can clearly see it because his mouth opens slightly, he’s about to say something but he stops.

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” Yeah you’re actually about to leave before he politely asks. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You act so innocent although you’re 100% sure he’s about to ask for a way to stay in touch, and he actually does.

“Can I get your phone number?”

Do you want to tease or should you just give it to him? Wait no, he’s a total stranger and you’re giving him your phone number? Now you’re the one who’s having a major debate in your head, you saw this man only twice and you’re already exchanging phone numbers?

You need to think fast and weigh things out, he’s a fucking hot airplane craft—

“Yeah sure.”

Really? Could you be faster than this? It comes out from you almost as if it’s a natural reflex. You didn’t even give yourself a chance to think twice, you wanted to say yes even if you weighed things out and his cons overcome his pros.

He takes his phone out and you end up exchanging phone numbers. You end up saving him as ‘NJ’, you close your phone and throw it back into your purse, you look at him one last time and your lip lifts in a tiny smirk. “So, I guess I’ll see you around, Namjoon.”

His eyes are on your lips when he swallows, the lips he imagined doing things to his dick in the shower.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” He snaps out of his dirty thoughts, he stands up too, and puts his hands into his pockets, his chest almost brushing against yours, his eyes very clearly move to your exposed cleavage, gosh if you only knew what is going through his wild imagination.

You turn and make your way to your friends, his eyes are totally checking out your lovely ass.

You feel your sweat on your lower back and chest, you grab a tissue and take your seat next to Hoseok, “Are you okay chief?”  And you giggle at the nickname he hasn’t used in a long time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You put your hand his leg and he wraps an arm around you.

--

You chose truth which makes Jungkook whine, the game is not as fun as he wants, so he decided to give you hard time and ask you very explicit questions.

You swing back a shot when he asks you if you’ve ever sent nudes to anyone, of course you’re not going to answer that. Although you’re quite positive that drinking your shot already means yes you did, and you actually did do it before. Which you are not happy nor proud about.

Oh god your head is already spinning so much, you’ve lost count of how many shots that are now in your system, and you’re at that stage where you know it’s about to be too late, and if you continue, you will end up having a shitty hangover in the morning after.

“Come on Hobi it’s your turn.” You put your shot glass down. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Hoseok doesn’t think twice which makes Jungkook whine even more, you huff. “Just choose dare, this kid is about to throw a tantrum.”

Jungkook flips you off and Hoseok proceeds. “Fine dare.” He rolls up his sleeves, you’re looking at Hoseok but behind him is the guy that you started your night with, just looking at you eagerly and his eyes not leaving you, they burn.

He’s still there with some friends, and what seems like a few of them left. You cross your arms over your chest which makes his eyes travel down to your chest again, you know he’s looking and you’re glad he is.

The boys hardly notice anything when they’re drunk, but the only one who’s been not drinking is Seokjin since he carpooled you to the club and he’s going to drop all of you home. He sees your eyes focusing elsewhere, follows your eyesight which leads him to Namjoon, he knows where Namjoon’s looking at, boys will be boys.

Seokjin can read you like an open book, since both of you think so much like each other, you two share the same birthday, only he is a few years older than you

And Seokjin’s hunch tells him that you and Namjoon are drooling over each other and you’re sharing looks of hunger.

“Hobi.” Seokjin starts. “I dare you to dare Y/N to kiss the guy on that table.”

Fuck you’re busted.

You snap your head at Seokjin and he shrugs, what is he trying to do?

And you’re even more embarrassed when all of them turn and look at Namjoon simultaneously, making Namjoon visibly nervous, and you feel extremely bad for him.

“You guys are so stupid.” You cover your face in mere embarrassment when Namjoon looks back at you, he’s confused.

“Come on he’s good looking.” Hoseok being the loud person he is, turns to you when he whines, as if that’s what you were complaining about.

You know how he’s so damn attractive, but you just exchanged numbers with that man, kissing might just ruin everything, or it could spice things up.

“He’s been staring at you the entire night.” Seokjin says, getting up and actually pulling your chair back while you’re still in it.

“Seokjin no.” You’re panicking, you totally refuse, smart enough to remember your standards, you never make a move on a man first.

“What if he comes and kisses you?” Jungkook is already on his feet and walking towards the table next to you.

You shake your head quick in utter panic and bite on your own teeth begging for Jungkook to come back. “Jeon Jungkook get back here.”

Well, it’s too late, because he already excused Namjoon out of the table, which confuses Namjoon even more.

Oh my god, your face is burning and your body is on fire!

You see Jungkook standing with his back facing your table, shakes hands with Namjoon, then points behind him with his thumb before crossing his arms, they both turn and look at you, Fuck. They’re walking closer.

“Hey, Y/N, this is Namjoon.” Jungkook introduces and you act oblivious, so does Namjoon, he’s totally not hiding his smirk. “This is my friend, Y/N. She hasn’t kissed a guy since march.”

Oh my god this brat keeps embarrassing you more and more you’re genuinely so close to crying, you want the floor to swallow you and you want to disappear.

Namjoon reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Kim Namjoon, haven’t kissed a woman in months too.” He introduces his full name and laughs, the guys laugh too, how are they even laughing this isn’t funny.

You shake his hand as if you haven’t before, totally surprised when he tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you closer, he just cuts to the chase and moves his hands lower to reach your hips.

Now that you’re even closer, this man is tall enough to make you almost tip toe, the smell of his cologne mixed with the alcohol and smoke is already doing wonders to you and sending you somewhere else, you’re drooling and it’s not from your mouth.

The feeling of his hot palms on your hips almost makes you want to collapse in his big arms.

Deep down in your head you grow impatient to feel his lips against yours, your stomach twisting in turning in pure excitement and arousal, you’re about to kiss the captain.

His nose brushes against yours and you can feel his hot breath against your lips, your hands moving to his biceps to feel them, it feels weird to do that in front of your friends, but they’re enjoying it, and they’re drunk and you think you are too, but this whole thing is more than enough to sober you up.

In a quick move Namjoon turns you so your back faces your friends, clears his throat and whispers low enough for both of you to hear, his lips softly touching yours with each letter he says. “I kind of wished they dared me to fuck you, because I want to.”

Your breath hitches and you’re already drunk on his touch, but now this man even has a dirty mouth that he uses shamelessly.

He finally pulls you closer for a kiss which you can feel your ears buzzing right away, and your legs feel like jelly. Your lips touch and melt together from the heat both of you radiating, you expect it to be a soft kiss but the attraction, you could swear there’s a magnet pulling you closer or it’s his arms pulling you closer to him, your so called soft kiss turns into a make out, his tongue licking your lower lip and quickly taking the chance to taste your mouth, you barely keep up with his kiss but you manage to.

Your hands make their way up to his chest and neck, your nails digging there softly and tugging on the back of his hair, he softly bites your lip and manages to pull back from the kiss, keeping your lower lip between his teeth while smirking, your hands move down to his big clothed arms that are tensed, you hold tighter for dear life because you’re ready to collapse any second now.

But fuck you want more, you want to feel more of him.

He pulls back from the kiss but your bodies are still touching and pressed against each other, and you stare into his eyes, his smirk getting cockier by the second when he feels you press harder into him, you visibly clear your throat and your hands move to his forearms, his smile slowly disappears when he leans closer to your ear, licking it and printing a soft kiss on it while humming.

He blows some air into the glistening spot he kissed on your ear and whispers. “I think about you when I make myself cum, I wish I could cum on your pretty face and ruin your makeup.”

Chills run through your spine, you’re seconds away from asking him to come home with you, you need him.

You shiver subtly, and you’re pretty sure if he touched you, you’d cum in an embarrassing amount of time.

You look into his eyes, they’re lazy and half closed, he bites on his bottom lip aggressively and pulls back ever so slowly, although the magnet between you feels like it’s pulling you closer.

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” He looks at Jungkook and the rest of the guys, then looks at you one last time before actually leaving the club.

You’re drooling over Kim Namjoon.

“You’re welcome.” Jungkook says.

[cuttyclowngirl]

DAIMA EP.10 (Spoiler)Review/theories

• NOW we've seen every shot from the 2 minute trailer.

• Majin Kuu immediately made it clear they're not the big bad Majin Dr Arinsu hoped for, as some of us suspected. Poor silly goober. I hope we hear him sing someday.

• It's a little easy to lie to Warp-Sama. I wonder if that'll tie into the plot later on somehow. Warp-Sama letting Goku & crew pass also implies that Panzy's single jammer worked, since their Gendarmerie ship wasn't reported stolen. Nice. Though Hybis still has a collar on, so...

• I do think Goku is right in prioritizing getting everyone's adult bodies back. Their kid bodies are still holding them back a bit. Best to skip all the time it'd take to get used to them & go straight back to prime.

• The bit about Piccolo mentioning that Earth's D balls will be useless since Dende's a baby is a little pointless since they were already forced out of cool down & are already on cool down again. Everyone should be back to normal by the end of this Demon Realm adventure anyways.

• Vegeta showed an impressive amount of restraint. Hybis was seriously pushing it. Also, confirmation that Vegeta & Bulma are legally married. Cute.

• While the 2nd demon world is pretty at first glance, we see more & more evidence of Kid Buu's rampage everywhere. So many archipelagos with nothing on them, long empty stretches of ocean where maybe islands or even continents used to be. Same goes for the Namekian home world. It's a somber beauty. At least the air isn't heavy. One less nerf.

• Seems like the legend of the Kraken doesn't exist on Earth. Odd. Unless this is a case of Goku's ignorance outside of fighting.

• The plane trouble's never gonna end, huh?

• So now, if Goku & friends manage to get to 1st world, they'll get to fight an entire army of Gendarmerie, then, maybe, King Gohma, Degesu, & Dr Arinsu+ Majin Kuu, & then Tamagami #1. Good thing Goku had Glorio buy so many bugs. Only 3 revive bugs left though... But how many Join Bugs?

• The first kraken attack scene was so well done that I was legit worried for Panzy & Goku, even though... you know... It's Goku. Also Panzy can fly. She did fly much slower than everyone else, probably due to a combination of age, experience & magical strength. She should really ask for those ki control lessons... She saved the Dragon Ball, though!

• Since Porunga made a brand new Planet Namek back in the day, did he restore the trees the ancient Namekians brought from the Demon Realm, or are they basically replicas made from scratch? (This'll never be officially answered...)

• The way the Revive Bug forced out Goku's aura is clearly a callback to the scenes where Elder Guru unlocked Gohan & Krillin's potential.

• Panzy apparently already knows how Revive Bugs work. They must be used by soldiers at Kadan's castle.

• Goku's not great at charades.

• Krakens jumping out of the water is a terrifying thought. Plus, Goku mentions that he, Vegeta & Piccolo aren't strong enough to fight one yet, which I hope is an exaggeration.

• Being treated "as little more than slaves" coupled with some psycho demon demolishing their home world, plus everything that happens down the line... I hope Namekians will know peaceful days forever after Frieza gets axed again.

• Cameo from other Supreme Kai's was cool.

• People are probably confused, but it seems to me that this "Super Majin Rymus", much like the Yin Yang system between Kaio-shin & Hakaio-shin(Gods of Destruction), Majin Rymus, a being capable of creating entire universes, is clearly Zeno-Sama's counterpart in the same way. I mean, heck, Rymus looks like an old guy while Zeno is practically a toddler. Also, Goku is clearly never paying attention to these lore drops.

• I hope we get some lore behind former Supreme King Abura's seemingly arbitrary fear of outside threats.

•I hope those poor Glind trees get restored at some point.(mainly for the sake of everyone's Kai OCs)

• I hope we get a figure or something of this "Good Supreme Demon King".

• If you listen closely, you can hear Majin Kuu saying "Kuu" during his fight, similar to the way Majin Buu shouts his own name. It'll probably be more obvious in the dub.

• NEVA JUMPSCARE?! (but not, because he walks slow) Will he make it to the plane? Will he chat with the group? I can't wait to find out!

• The next EP preview looks Shintani AF. (I mean, he did work on this EP , but you know what I mean. (Also, it's not him at all, I'm wrong.))

[moonsidesong]

just caught up with Your Turn To Die and absolutely adored it the whole way through. it goes unbelievably hard. calling it Danganronpa But Good feels like an insult. but like... yeah what if danganronpa was good? or rather. game that makes me wish danganronpa was good.

it really keeps you on your toes the Entire time, which is why i ended up saving like......... every five to ten minutes, most times. i would say the only slower part is the minigames during chapter 2? but, i thought those were fun, and they were still broken up by plot important stuff, so i really didnt mind.

ive heard the game had a soundtrack release on CD a few years ago, but i cant seem to find much information about it? much less any resell listings. how sad... i love cd...

i wanna talk more in depth from here on out so spoilers under the cut! warning thoughts very disjointed. and i havent seen absolutely Everything the game has to offer yet (havent done any of the side stories, we'll do them soon probably) so if my takes are disproven by anything ive yet to see please do not tell me htank you

first off OHHH MY GODDDD THIS GAME IS SO MUCH LESS CREEPY ABOUT THE MINORS AND ITS SUCH A BREATH OF FRESH AIR COMPARED TO DANGANRONPA. its not perfect, of course, i do not entirely love the jokes(???) about keiji (known grown adult man) going on dates with sara (known teenage girl), but like, this game does not make me feel gross all the time? thank u nankidai for not making your teacher character with a close relationship with one of his former students a groomer! the bare minimum! im gonna hit kodaka with a stick this should not be a point in the game's favor.

anyway! ended chapter 2 with Reko and Sou (shin) alive, ended chapter 3 having lost Reko .. . :( shes my favorite... i was so sad... ranmaru we're not friends anymore/.... you suck... you killed my best girl... we um, did make a grand total of 175 save files though, so at some point me and the friend i played with are gonna go back and scrub through anything and everything that we missed. maybe after we do the side stories though, not sure yet. reko yabusame i swear to god i will crawl into the screen and kill ranmaru myself for you. i will save you. i love you so much mwah

for years ive only known midori as The Guy That Kids On Danganronpa Discourse Instagram Put Overdramatic Yet Also Somehow Extremely Haphazard Trigger Warnings on every post that included him, so i was really excited to meet him. and boy he did not disappoint this guys NUTS!!! HES CRAZAY!!!!!!!! he has such a perfectly striking look about him. i love how he almost never stops looking straight at you, and how his suit is stark black so it obscures a lot of his shape when he's in the dark, its so cool. they absolutely nailed the atmosphere whenever you're around this guy.

but the first jumpscare when he like reaches out at you from the coffin just kinda made me laugh. me when i get you

also, if you're this far in to care about my opinions on games you probably know that i am Known Danganronpa V3 Hater. i think in particular Kokichi Ouma is way too good of a character for how dogwater the game's actual plot is, and Shin Tsukimi, while not being the same, obviously, scratches that itch of a guy trapped in a death game that spends all his time lying and living under a persona because he's afraid of dying perfectly While Being In A Game That Doesnt Make Me Feel Like Eating Sheet Metal . i love this dude and his ugly several clashing colors outfit. he wants my ass like mega dead right now but thats not important surely

also, i think its sweet that joe and sara are just best friends and they rarely ever even entertain the idea that they had romantic feelings for each other. i think its extra sweet and tragic that joe was able to tell sara he loved her in the end, meaning it as his best friend. and the way the game completely ceases showing you flashbacks of him after that point and just lets the image of the hallucinations replace his actual memory overtime is so good and haunting. this doubled down by the way her memory of him is completely locked up as soon as she starts trying to actually remember the way he really was, its so good.

i think thats all i have to say for now, but umm!!! really really good im excited to go back and fill in the gaps i missed. especially regarding kanna becasue i have a lot of theories about her that i hope im on the right track about #lol. but even if i dont i want to see her i miss her. yaay!!! i love when video games are good. i love you video games.

ill probably make more posts down the line with more thoughts after i let them marinade in my brain for a while... mostly when i have thoughts ive been sending them to the friend im playing with so we can discuss theories together LOL

[kemetic-dreams]

How many times per week should I do HIIT workout?

Is It Safe to Do HIIT Every Day?

1. If you do HIIT regularly you need to mix up your routines

Like with any exercise Dr. Astorino says that you may get bored if you do the same routine regularly and your progress may also plateau. If you do the same regime, including the same number of bouts and the same length of bouts and intensities your gains might level off Dr. Astorino explains.

Plus there’s a chance of injury if you do the same repetitive movements over time without recovery time. If you’re doing HIIT on a treadmill which would imply sprinting you might have some shin splints ankle problems or joint pain,” Dr. Astorino adds.

Zapata echoes this stance. She says too much HIIT can have negative effects on your body and leave you susceptible to injuries.

While you may not notice the negative effects of not giving your body the rest and recovery it needs immediately, over time you will see a decrease in performance plateaus possible weight gain and overuse injuries she says. Remember more is not better!

Since HIIT can be done many different ways including outdoors or without equipment altogether there are ways to reduce the likelihood of hurting yourself. Dr. Astorino suggests doing HIIT on a bike. Research shows that biking is gentler on your knees and joints than running.

2. You don’t need to do HIIT daily

According to Jessica Zapata creator of Fitilates and co-owner of the Alberta-based gym Infinite Fitness the answer is clear. No, you do not need to do HIIT every day.

We live in a society that thinks if something is good more must be better but that is simply not the case she says. If you are truly doing HIIT properly you need recovery in between workouts to maximize the training effect.

So, then how often should you be doing HIIT? Due to the highly effective nature of HIIT there’s really no need to do it more than three to four times a week Dr. Astorino says. He points to the U.S. government’s health guidelines that say adults need two and one-half hours of aerobic physical activity per week and at least two days of muscle-strengthening exercise per week.

While Dr. Astorino says that there’s no reason to call regular HIIT sessions unsafe he says that he doesn’t see why someone would want to do it every day since research shows that it is not necessary. There was a study that came out 15 years ago and they had typical men not athletes doing HIIT for around 10 to 14 days in a row Astorino says. They showed the exact same benefits that you would typically associate if you were doing HIIT three days a week.

And the benefits are undeniable for people of varying fitness levels. HIIT is an effective form of exercise for many including those who work out regularly those who are obese and those living with diabetes. Science clearly says that if you’re a healthy adult HIIT works as well as cardiovascular exercise yet if you have diabetes or have heart disease most of the evidence shows it works better Dr. Astorino says.

For strength training or HIIT workouts you’ll love our trainers have workouts that will get you moving and sweating. Check out Aaptiv today to learn more.

These 5 steps reveal the things you absolutely MUST AVOID if you want to look younger, to boost your immunity, reclaim your health, and achieve your ideal body.

[cottonkendi]

Your Babies | 35

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Crack, Angst

Warning: Spoiler, Smut ish. Like almost there. But not really. Cliffhanger

Synopsis: Yes ft. Blue Balls

Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36

a/n: ending thsi year with a happy ish cliffhanger! yayyyy~ this is officially the last chapter for your babies this year! I hope you lovelies enjoy your new year! <3

After your graduation, life seems to have settled down after your parents have both gone back to working across the country, though you’re not quite sure why they promised to come back exactly five months after.

They never let you know beforehand when they come back since they never know when they’ll be free from work. But still, you’re not complaining. Maybe they’re only planning on finally trying to spend more time with you now that you’re an adult and they won’t need to work as much since you’re finally done with school.

In the month that you’ve graduated, you have started working for Sara’s mother while simultaneously helping Shinichiro keep the new shop a secret from the kids just so that the two of you can have a big surprise for Manjiro’s birthday. It’s been something that the two of you have been planning for so long before the shop was even bought.

Ever since Manjiro and his friends created Tokyo Manji Gang, the two of you have thought of making Manjiro his own bike since he’s been using the old scooter that you used a few years back. And because you’ve seen just how happy Izana got when Shinichiro gifted him his own bike a few months prior to buying the new shop. Ever since Izana got his own bike, he’s been sneaking out of the orphanage every now and then just to visit, which makes you so happy, seeing him hanging around the shop whenever the other kids aren’t there. And though you’re not quite happy with him sneaking out, it still does put a smile on your face whenever he’d offer to take either of you out on a ride to show off his driving skills.

But putting all of that aside, even with the very busy months that the two of you had which leaves both of you aching to your bones, it seems that Shinichiro is still not tired from the day’s work, judging from his lips continuously trailing up and down you neck to your shoulder as you try your best to go back to sleep after being rudely awoken by his kisses. You can also feel his hands starting to roam your stomach and thighs which finally breaks you from your silence.

“Can I help you, Mr. Horny Pants?” You grumble as you turn around in order to face him when you hear him breathe out a chuckle.

“Oh you can. You can help me out very much.” Pulling you closer, he starts to trace shapes on your thighs, fingers barely moving closer to your core as he starts kissing up your neck again.

And as much as you want to indulge him in this little endeavor of his, it is still in the middle of the night, with the kids’ room right next to yours and you’re far too tired to actually stay awake which will undoubtedly make Shinichiro all sad if he ever catches you falling asleep while in the middle of it. Which is why you can’t help but push his hands away. “Shin, I’m tired. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?”

Feeling his pout pressing against your neck, you decide to roll over once more, this time, on top of him with your legs caging his hips as you feel him right under you which elicits a moan from him, his hands making their way to your hips to still your body against his as he looks up to you. “I don’t know if this is your way of trying to convince me to continue this tomorrow or if you’re trying to torture my dick.”

Huffing out a small laugh, you shake your head before resting it on his chest, hands making their way to his hair to play with it, maybe to help him with falling asleep. “It’s both. I’m convincing you through torture.”

By now, you can feel your consciousness flickering, eyes unconsciously staying closed for a few more seconds than normal as you feel yourself fall into dreamland with every blink you make.

Unconsciously, you shift on top of him which makes his hand tightly grip onto your waist again which in turn shocks you awake for a little. “Don’t move too much. I’ll burst if you do.” He hisses against your ear as his hips buck up against you.

With your mind clearing up for a few seconds, you roll off of him, feet pushing against his thighs as you shoo him off the bed. “Go take care of it, Shin. I’ll wait for you here.”

Hearing him shuffling, you wait until he’s standing over the bed before forcing your eyes open. “We will still do it in the morning right?”

“Yes, Shin. We will. Now go!” You take a hold of Mr. Dreamy - the star plushie that Shinichiro won during your first date - and used it to lightly hit him to hurry him up. “Go Shin before you get blue balls.”

“Fine, fine! But you promise. In the morning.” Giving you a quick kiss on the lips, he rushes out into the bathroom.

As soon as he turns on the light, your eyes automatically close to avoid getting blinded which leads to you falling asleep before you can even realize it.

Plopping yourself down on the newly bought sofa, you can’t help but wiggle around on the soft material, glad that the two of you miraculously had enough money to buy a few new furniture for the new shop due to Yui’s mother giving the two of you a little discount from the moving company that she has a contract with. The old shop was also sold quite fast since apparently, there’s been a housing company that’s been eyeing the lot ever since Shinichiro’s old boss sold it to him.

Overall, everything has been going well, even with your new job which leads you to coming home later than usual and leaving earlier than the kids and Shinichiro can keep up with. It leads to a lot of weekends filled with the kids and your boyfriend stringing you along to whatever place they want to go to just so that they can spend as much time with you, along with a lot of calls, texts and short visits from Izana and Kakucho who you’ve both gifted a better phone due to Izana’s old phone breaking after years of use.

Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes as you wait for Shinichiro to finally come inside the break room after checking all of the things that were moved a week before.

There’s now only 3 weeks left before the new shop will be opened and both of you are already planning on telling the kids about the new shop in two days when all of them are free during the weekend just so that you can both showoff a little, show them how big the new shop is, the new cool machines and designs that you can now have for the bikes. And of course, with the extra money from the discount, your boyfriend has decided to go all out and order a bunch of new motorcycles to showcase in the display window which has been open to the public for a little less than 5 days.

From what you've heard from the kids earlier, they’ve already seen the place as they were passing by during their bike rides across town which puts a smile on your face after hearing Keisuke and Kazutora talking about how your old shop is still better than this new one.

They’re so sweet and they don’t even know it.

After what seems to be ten minutes of you just lounging about in the new break room, checking out the different things that you’ve bought, like the small television, an industrial fan, a little cooler to store some drinks and food and a small stove. It all seems so simple but it’s been what the two of you have been dreaming of which makes things all the more amazing now that you two are only three weeks away before the grand opening, right after Manjiro’s birthday.

Finally, the door opens, revealing Shinichiro who has a huge grin on his face, hands hidden behind him as he approaches you with a glint in his eyes that may or may not have triggered something in your brain which makes you a little wary.

After dating him for five years, you’ve just grown accustomed to the many things that Shinichiro had proposed which made you say ‘no’. It’s ridiculous how many things can go through his head that makes him want to try it out immediately without even thinking about it.

Just earlier this day, while the two of you just finished thanking the moving company for the last boxes, Shinichiro had whispered into your ear about christening the new shop which immediately got you stomping onto his foot while muttering a quick ‘no’.

To say the least, Shinichiro - whenever he gets all suspicious - has a scarily high chance of proposing something weird to you. So, with bated breath, you wait for him to come closer, his hands taking yours and wrapping it around his neck while his own hands make their way to your waist.

Soon, the two of you are dancing around the room, the suspicion leaving your body when he starts to hum.

Unconsciously, a smile makes its way to your lips as you look up at him, his grin now a subtle quirk of his lips as his hold on you tightens.

Pulling him down, you press a quick kiss against his lips which visibly pulls away the tension in his body, as if all the tension and insecurity in his mind has been washed away as he gives you this look.

His eyes that undeniably look like the universe above, holding all of the stars, planets and dreams in them, and yet, he gives you the chance to gaze in them all day if you wanted to. He’d hold you close and let you indulge in the universe that you call Shinichiro.

You don’t even notice how long you’ve been caught in his gaze until you hear him chuckle under his breath, his nose nuzzling yours as he pecks your face, lips trailing on your cheeks, nose, lips and forehead before he goes back to looking at you. “Y’know… all these years of us dating, I’ve never had a nickname for you. I’ve always been changing it up ‘cause the others never seemed right to me. The others never felt like it was good enough.”

Gently moving a stray piece of hair away from your face, he continues. “But after you hit me with Mr. Dreamy a few days ago, I think that I just realized something. I think that I should’ve been calling you ‘My Star’ all along.”

You don’t know why, but you can feel your heart starting to go crazy as you continue to silently listen to him talk. Your whole body feels as if it’s warming up as your nose tingles, indicating a set of tears on their way.

“You said it back when we had our first date. You said that being with me would have made your dreams come true, but you’re wrong. It’s not me making dreams come true, it’s always been you…” Pulling you impossibly closer, he takes a hold of you hand and presses a kiss on the back of it. “Ever since you’ve said ‘yes’ to me, it feels as if all of my dreams have slowly been coming true. You’re like a falling star but instead of landing on the ground, you’ve landed right into my arms and kissed me so hard that it felt like I was floating in space, living the dream that I’ve always wanted. You don’t know how much you mean to me. How much you mean to your cousin, your parents, your friends, my siblings, the other kids...”

By now, the tears on your cheeks have started to flow so heavily that you can’t help but press your face against his shirt to hide it from him but it only makes him force you to look at him.

“And, as much as I don’t want to be selfish and keep you all to myself, that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to be able to call you mine, have you be mine for the rest of our lives and make all of our dreams come true. You’ve been helping me with my dream of having this shop and here we are, only a few weeks away from opening. You’ve been helping me with my siblings and we’re only two more years away from achieving that. With Izana and Kakucho waiting for us. And though we may not have succeeded in that yet, I want you to be a part of that future when it finally happens.”

Wiping your tears away, Shinichiro gently lets you go, his hands softly prying your hands away from him after you tried to pull him closer which elicits a chuckle from him.

“Relax, my star, I’m not going anywhere.”

Ever so slowly, you feel your heart jump out of your throat when he takes out a velvet box from his pocket. “I’m sorry that this took a while, I just wanted to make sure that everything was perfect. Wanted your ring to be something that I can proudly say that I’ve made with the thought of you and only you. A ring that can and will only be worn by you because you are a special star and I want everyone to know it...” He chuckles to himself, fingers fidgeting with the box a little before he looks you straight in the eyes as he goes down on one knee.

“My star, will you marry me?”

You can feel your hand shaking as you jump on top of Shinichiro, arms wrapping around his neck as you bury your face into his neck, your tears soaking up his shirt which makes him kiss your head.

Composing yourself, you push your upper body away from him so that you can look him straight in the eye as you answer him. “Yes-”

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[elderflowergin]

a love letter to the mentors of 25 21

One thing the show did with a wondrously light touch was to bring Baek Yi-jin to a pivotal person - and a life/career-altering relationship: his mentor, Shin Jae-kyung anchor-nim:

(I have to admit I'm not that interested in Baek Yi-jin (I'm sorry!); and I think the delicate balance that his relationship with Hee-do had in the early half was ruptured in the final few episodes, but I love his interactions with Shin anchor-nim. I'll put a pin in her for the time being.)

Plenty's been said about the friendships on this show, most crucially about the Hee-do/Yu-rim relationship (will there be a scene more poignant, gorgeously paced and emotional to watch than the girls in Madrid? No!) and no one was more charming than Ji Seung-wan and Moon Ji-woong. This show did mentorships so well, though.

We have Yang Chan-mi, who has no real reason to take on Hee-do, a former fencing prodigy in a slump and the daughter of a one-time friend. But something in Hee-do's enthusiasm touches Chan-mi, who remembers a little girl left behind at her father's funeral. She's quietly supportive of Yu-rim after her mom loses her life savings, taking the girls to Yu-rim's mom's eatery as a sign of moral support.

She pushes her fencers, and she pushes them hard, but she's never cruel about it from my 80s/90s perspective. When fencing junior Ye-ji wants to quit, Coach Yang doesn't let it lie easily; she says, really try at it, do better, and quit if the reality of winning isn't enough to make you stay anymore. I imagine she knew full well that Yu-rim and Hee-do were supporting and coaching Ye-ji throughout this time; something their own seniors would have never done. And Coach Yang honours her word.

Is she the national coach by the time Yu-rim goes to Russia? (Please factcheck me!) She knows full well that Ko Yu-rim leaving means one less medal for Korea. She helps Yu-rim navigate the process of getting offers. She sits down with Yu-rim when the offer comes through, knowing how scary it must be to negotiate this at Yu-rim's age, with no older adult to rely on. She tells Yu-rim that she'll always be her mentee, no matter where she goes, and that she's always there for Yu-rim. That's Coach Yang Chan-mi for you: looking at her players as people, as a community first, and then as medal possibilities.

Back to Shin anchor-nim. Baek Yi-jin has Jung-hyuk, for sure, but it's Shin anchor-nim who becomes definitive to his career. She's a quiet revolutionary herself; the woman who made it possible for him to be hired at all despite having no degree. She corrects him when he messes up on air, but she appreciates his ability to improvise. It's that lovely conversation they have outside her team dinner that is pivotal for him, in how he approaches journalism, and it expands the limits of his dreams. She bats for him right till the end of her prodigious, glorious career, when she hands over her Head Anchor position to him with great joy.

It has to be said: women like Shin anchor-nim didn't come to the workplace lightly in the 1980s. There were so many sacrifices to be made (there still are, but a career woman in the 80s? A whole different ballgame). She couldn't go to her own husband's funeral. She sacrificed her friendship with Chan-mi, who must have been such a comfort to her in a lonely world. She wasn't around for Hee-do much because of her career. Shin anchor-nim can't even publicly claim Hee-do, something Baek Yi-jin can more or less comfortably do by 2000. Jung-hyuk can tell Yi-jin his girlfriend is in the finals in Madrid. When Hee-do wins, Shin anchor-nim has to make do with tearing up quietly, discreetly exchanging congratulations with Yi-jin, and getting back to work.

Shin anchor-nim clearly worked very hard, gave up a lot and came up against every prejudice about women in reporting. She could have turned around and shut the doors on someone else. Many women like her did do that (and still do! Just think of the boomers who roll their eyes at #MeToo). Instead, she advocates for hiring university dropouts (a non-traditional choice), literally opening the doors, which is what permits Baek Yi-jin - till then rudderless, degreeless, with a toxic family connection to boot - to enter the workforce and find a much-needed purpose and calling that he may have not otherwise found. She continues to meet with him in 2022, although she retired in 2009, and no doubt still mentors him.

This hit me hard, and I think I understand why. So much of mentorship in our class-driven societies has to do with people who take in someone they know or someone who looks like them. (I'm pretty sure I once had an intern my boss hired because he slept with her mom. I wish I were joking.) In a world like that, the Chan-mis and the Shin anchors-nim are uncommon and essential. It's the door that Hee-do can open to enter Yu-rim's world; it's how Baek Yi-jin can ultimately reunite his family.

Yes, romantic relationships can be beautiful to look at, but imagine the things we can do, the ways in which we and the people around us can be transformed when someone sends a ladder down to us instead of walking on. Plants a seed instead of stamping out the competition. Imagine all of the things that bloom when we allow them the space to, or open a door, or take a chance.

[with-my-murder-flute]

Sometimes you just have a really intense week and can’t stop thinking about how much trauma Lan Sizhui experienced by the time he was 5 and how being the Very Best Boy isn’t always healthy and then you need to write Lan Wangji the child psychologist and his incredibly anxious foster-son, y’know?

---

Bunny is on time-out again.

"You have to behave,” A-Yuan says in the voice of the potato-head, packing accessories into its body and shoving it into the bed of a soft plastic truck. “You get in the car now.” The Barbie van is already full, with a dinosaur and a fingerpuppet and one of the new larger Lego figures, and all their carefully packed luggage. A-Yuan does that. Over and over again, for each of his toys, he methodically packs and unpacks luggage. It’s his most common form of play, but not the most enjoyable.

A-Yuan’s breathing is rapid and shallow, so much so that he takes little gasps when he talks to himself. Routinely, predictably, he’s calmer when he turns away from the dollhouse. He’s most collected when selecting items to put into luggage, deciding on pieces of felt and Barbie shoes, but even with the vehicles he can lose himself enjoying the movement and progress of the cars. But underneath it all, there’s a jerkiness to his movements and a certain disconnected quality in his speech and body language that tells Lan Wangji that he’s pretty distressed.

It’s a step forward that Bunny is out at all, Lan Wangji knows. A behaviour therapist at A-Yuan’s last preschool made it a point to extinguish comfort-seeking behaviour towards the toy, which was becoming both careworn and grubby. A-Yuan’s had it at least since he was fourteen months old; it was with him when he came into care. Maybe his birth mother gave it to him. A-Yuan has obediently derogated the toy; if it’s left lying out, he can usually be trusted to throw it into a corner to prove what a big, grown-up boy he is.

Lan Wangji has very carefully gauged his son’s limits of tolerance for some things. When the car ride begins, he waves slightly and says, “Have a nice trip,” which makes A-Yuan glance back at him nervously, but it’s just mild enough, just unemotional enough, just tolerable enough, that it doesn’t provoke too much emotion. A-Yuan can keep pushing his vehicles around, and feel safe enough to drive one into Lan Wangji’s foot. He doesn’t persevere at that point, though; the trip has culminated and he gets up and walks to where he can see down the hallway to the front door, then wanders over to the slide.

A hundred million years ago, Lan Wangji thought he’d be a genetics researcher, like his uncle. Then he thought he’d be a neuroscientist, like his undergraduate thesis advisor. Then he thought he’d be a psychologist like his brother, who focuses entirely on assessment and the development of psychometric tools. For a little bit in grad school, he thought he’d counsel adults, like Wei Wuxian, until a classmate told Wei Wuxian that Dialectical Behavioural Therapy was “objectively badass” and he developed a fixation Lan Wangji could not follow. In retrospect his career path is absolutely obvious, resonating clearly through every bone of him, but it took him a very long time to realize he ought to work with children. It’s a little shocking that he, who was so bad at being a child, feels so prepared to be a father.

He smiles when A-Yuan looks at him anxiously from the slide, the moment of uncertainty as he lets go and begins sliding down triggering the need for reassurance. Lan Wangji is always waiting for that glance, waiting to return it. At A-Yuan’s last placement he’d been assessed as having an avoidant/dismissing attachment style, and despite its uncharitable and parent-shaming nature Lan Wangji can’t help but agree with what his husband had muttered over that one: “Were the parents even trying?”

The most vital task, and the hardest, is being present in the moment with a child. Not worrying about the future, not concerned with the past, not preoccupied with an external standard. He’s surprisingly bad at performing objective assessments with children, because he can see how unfair they all are. His greatest facility is something he built for himself, brick by painstaking brick: the willingness to sit with discomfort, and have faith that the chaos will not remain chaos. All his years of meditation have cultivated a still eye to see the world from, and the faith that patience and compassion will see him through.

Still smiling, still watching A-Yuan, Lan Wangji moves closer to the dollhouse. He carefully stars arranging its contents, righting knocked-over furniture and returning blankets to little wooden beds. He takes out a shark figurine, a couple of doll clothes, then puts Bunny on the floor near his shin. When A-Yuan comes close, magnetically drawn away from the slide, Lan Wangji reaches behind himself for the tea set they were using earlier, arranging cups and plates in front of him as though they’re going to have another tea party. He leaves the placement of the cups ambiguous; it’s not like Bunny is specifically invited, but there is a suggestive proximity, the way the other cup is in proximity to the shark. A-Yuan takes the teapot, and Lan Wangji solemnly holds his cup out while A-Yuan pours. For the sake of the ritual he accepts milk and refuses sugar and mimes stirring his invisible ingredients before taking a sip.

When A-Yuan is done drinking, Lan Wangji turns to Bunny, lifting a cup, and asks, “Would you like some tea?” A-Yuan noticed the moment that Lan Wangji’s hand moves, but as he addresses the rabbit A-Yuan seems to lose interest, which is to say, he slightly dissociates; blink and you missed it, but his eyes go a little glassy, he looks away, and then he acts on the adrenaline and gets up and wanders away.

The current theory about Bunny is like the theory of gravity, which is to say, it’s definitely pretty certain but it never hurts to be humble when it comes to knowledge. It’s honestly a little more speculative and psychodynamic than Lan Wangji is truly comfortable with, and A-Yuan’s case manager, possibly a little defensive over the last preschool placement, absolutely refuses to consider the possibility. But it still feels as essential and true as which way is up that Bunny performs the vital task of holding all the parts of A-Yuan that he blames for making the adults he cares about disappear. Bunny holds both the neediness and the hope for comfort that were so painful, his son shut them down in order to survive. Bunny was how A-Yuan mediated that desire, the source of his comfort, until he was three and a half, and the behaviour therapist.

A-Yuan knew his foster parents didn’t like him being disorganized and distressed and clingy, that they’d rather he behaved more like a six-year-old than four. Which he could, sometimes, because he had a ferocious intelligence which put him cognitively ahead of his emotional development. But he, well... adapted a little too quickly, one might say. Learned his lesson a little too well. Now they’re trying to reignite the behaviours that were extinguished.

Lan Wangji takes a risk, while A-Yuan is pulling picture books off the lower shelf, and lifts Bunny to his shoulder like a colicky infant. He doesn’t do anything else, aside from stroking the rabbit’s fur. He leaves it in place, with a little guiding help from his hand, when A-Yuan brings a Franklin book over and climbs into his lap, demanding to be read to. With interest he notes, halfway through the story, that Lan Wangji holding and petting Bunny doesn’t distress A-Yuan; as the story arc gets as exciting as Franklin books ever do (which is not, to be clear, a criticism) A-Yuan turns in his arms long enough to distractedly reach up and pet Bunny too, before turning back and trying to grab the book for himself.

Wondering how far he can push this, he keeps Bunny in place on his shoulder when they leave the room to check the clock, and A-Yuan goes to the living-room window to watch the street for Wei Wuxian. He looks curiously when Lan Wangji leans down to dig the remote out between the couch cushions, but easily redirects when Lan Wangji turns on the TV and goes to prepare dinner. Having the show on limits his anxious glances out the window to three or four a minute only, instead of sustained attention followed by a meltdown if he had to wait more than five minutes.

Lan Wangji thinks it would be easier to keep Bunny in place, on his shoulder like a dishtowel, if he had weighted plastic beads in his extremities, or if he was velcroed. He’s wary of changing anything about such a strong comfort object, though, so he just learns to move and stand differently to keep the rabbit from constantly falling off.

A-Yuan greets Wei Wuxian with the kind of terrified delight that looks like general indifference if you don’t know better; he runs over, stands uncertainly within arm’s reach of Wei Wuxian’s legs, and then dodges away before Wei Wuxian can reach down to him. Lan Wangji helpfully muted the show when he heard the door open--it gives A-Yuan the space to sit with his back to the room and self-regulate while the adults say hello.

“New friend?” his husband asks finally, an eyebrow raised.

“Modelling it as appropriate,” Lan Wangji says. “I thought perhaps he could tolerate us demonstrating that it is not discouraged.”

“Nice rabbit, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says seamlessly, in a voice meant to be heard from the couch. “I like it. Makes me wish I had a rabbit.”

“They are very good friends,” Lan Wangji agrees. “This one is not mine, but he is keeping me company.”

“Nice,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Maybe whoever you borrowed him from will let him hang out with me sometime.”

Their audience does not comment on this, but they didn’t need him to. Wei Wuxian sets the table while Lan Wangji cooks. A-Yuan’s palate is still pretty limited, so he’s used to making three separate elements of one meal, and can live with cutting up cooked hot dog into little coins so long as he doesn’t have to eat them himself. They just supplement their kid’s diet with a multivitamin.

A-Yuan looks askance enough, when dinner is ready, that Lan Wangji takes Bunny off his shoulder and asks, “Where should he sit while we eat?”

There is a fourth chair, albeit completely out of proportion, but he doesn’t dare try it. Instead A-Yuan thinks for a minute, and points to the kitchen counter behind the table. Lan Wangji props Bunny up against the wall, observing dinner if not participating, and after a second to think, A-Yuan accepts this as normal and climbs into his chair. He is meticulously well-behaved.

Lan Wangji aches for his son, and hopes one day he’ll feel confident enough in their love to break the rules around them.

They eat.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 16 part one

(Masterpost of All the Recaps)  (Canary’s Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes

All righty, this one is going to be a laff riot...not. Let's do it.

The first half of this episode is like a beautifully executed standalone tragedy, while also threading together all sorts of themes and paying off all sorts of relationship building that's happened in the previous episodes. My hat is off to the writers, while I also shake a fist at them for making me cry an unreasonable amount.

We’re Sailing on a Strange Boat

The episode starts right off absolutely DESTROYING me with the Yunmeng brothers holding hands, fingers interlaced, in the first of many hand-touching moments that punctuate the episode.

Jiang Cheng has to be pretty far gone to accept this degree of comfort and tenderness. I think, from their positions, he is also holding Yanli's hand out of the camera's view. 

Zidian finally lets the trio go, and they immediately turn the boat around and head back to Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian gets the clever idea to turn the benches into makeshift oars but nobody gets the clever idea to use magic to push the boat like they do literally every other time they are in a boat. 

Their emotional need to go back to Lotus Pier is understandable, but they are being disobedient and irresponsible by doing it. Jiang Cheng is the future of the clan, and should not risk his life, particularly after his mother chose to sacrifice herself to protect him and after both of his parents told him to go hide with his sister and personal bodyguard brother. 

On the other hand, Jiang Fengmian, as clan leader, probably had a duty to go into hiding himself rather than go home to die romantically, so his authority is questionable at this point. Anyway, this is the Jiang Clan, they get to kind of do what they want, except when that pisses Jiang Cheng off.

Lotus Pier Massacre

Back at Lotus Pier, the Wens are kicking Jiang ass. The fight choreography is pretty good, taking full advantage of walkways, railings, pools, and other features of the environment. 

Using the set this way always makes fights feel more kinetic and real, as opposed to simply sparring in an open area. 

(more after the cut)

Yu Ziyuan is fighting adequately with a sword, having given her preferred weapon to her son.  She's clearly been at it for a while, and is tiring; the Wen soldiers are starting to land more and more sword blows but no critical hits yet.

Wen Zhuliu is kicking ass and possibly melting cores, although we don't see him do it to anybody yet. Later we'll hear from Jiang Cheng that he crushed the cores of his parents, but it's not clear when that happens.

Sixth young master replays Jiang Fengmian's entire archery lesson in his head while he waits, and waits, for Wen Zhuliu to finish strangling a dude the right moment to shoot an arrow at Wen Zhuliu. 

Homicidal tart Wang Lingjiao notices him lining up a shot, strolls over, and stabs him in the back while he's still thinking about what Jiang Fengmian said. One could wish that JFM's archery lessons weren't quite so wordy. 

Wang Linjao normally doesn't carry a sword because of her low spiritual power, but apparently can use one just fine when she's killing kids.

If you start feeling like this episode is unreasonably painful, just think of it as building up calluses so you can handle Yi City when the time comes.

Jiang Fengmian to the Rescue

Jiang Fengmian shows up very far past the nick of time, although he is not actually useful, so it's questionable whether arriving earlier would have helped. But his wife is glad to see him.

Netflix subtitles say that Jiang Fengmian calls Yu Ziyuan "My Lady!" which sounds courtly and romantic in English. His actual words are "San Niangzi" which hunxi-gullai breaks out here.  I might render this as "lady wife!" rather than "my lady" but I don't think English really has a perfect equivalent.

Jiang Fengmian sails across the courtyard, knocking down a few Wen soldiers and becoming a young, slender man in the process.

I mean, come on, that stunt double does not look like a boxy middle-aged man from any angle.

The Dying Bit

The episode splits up the big death scene for dramatic effect but I'm recapping it all together to keep things simple.

Within moments of arriving, Jiang Fengmian gets shanked by Wen Zhuliu like Scatman Crothers in The Shining (or Groundskeeper Willie in The Shinning).

Wen Zhuliu stops a Wen soldier from finishing JFM off, just so that a different Wen soldier can deliver the killing blow from the back, which is kinda harsh. With all this spin-fighting there is probably not an implication of cowardice when someone dies from a stab in the back, but still. Too rude, Wen Zhuliu.

Yu Ziyuan sees Jiang Fengmian fall, and after having a moment of sorrow and despair, she stabs herself in the heart, falls down, crawls to him and interlaces her hand with his. He revives just enough to give her hand a squeeze and say "San Niangzi" one last time before dying. 

She dies next, with a smile on her face at the end. The soundtrack plays that amazing "horribly emotional death scene" music that isn't one of the tracks available on the OST, argh. This same music appears at the end of Xue Yang's story.  

Of the many things I love about the Untamed, the complexity of all the minor characters is possibly my favorite. These two people suck at parenting, and suck at being married, and ultimately suck at protecting and leading their clan, making stupid, selfish choices at every step of the building conflict. 

And then they have this incredibly romantic death scene, in which they both face the inevitability of failure, and find comfort in failing together. Yet their death scene is totally in keeping with who we know them to be, and who they are to each other; the drama doesn't cheat by making them ideal lovers or great people at the end. But they have a great, great moment.

Jiang Yanli, waiting in the woods while her brothers are presumably running toward Lotus Pier, drops her lotus pendant, which is made of the loudest jade ever discovered, and it breaks with a crash.  

Yanli, who is a well educated young lady, knows a moment of doomy symbolism when she sees it.

Jiang Yanli: Who put a giant rock out here in the woods? What are the odds I’d drop my pendant directly on it? 

It’s all Over Except for the Crying, Running and Choking

The brothers climb up on the roof and are shocked to see nothing but Wen soldiers and piled up Jiang corpses... 

...including one child who is either about to become a zombie or who is being played by a young actor who can't control their curiosity, judging by the way this eye is sneakily opened while the camera is running.

There's a moment where Jiang Cheng is saying they must have spared his parents, they must be okay, where Wei Wuxian's face is just...wow. You can see right here the gulf in life experience between these two. 

Wen Zhuliu roams around looking troubled while searching for more people to kill. He’s an interesting villain; someone who believes his loyalty to his boss makes him a good guy, but knows his boss is a bad guy. 

Then we are treated to a hell of a camera move, where it tracks over Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian together on the floor, heroic in death and still holding hands, and then sweeps up to show their killers sitting on the lotus throne. 

The dead couple were at odds for their whole lives together, while the evil people who killed them are acting like devoted lovebirds. It's a stunning shot and a terrific thematic contrast. When Wei Wuxian eventually comes to take his vengeance, he will spend some time turning Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao against each other, before ending them. 

The camera shows us JC's reaction, then shows his mother, then WWX’s reaction, then JF; each reacting to the death of the person who loved them. Some folks may feel that Jiang Fengmian actually did love Jiang Cheng but was just bad at showing it. But Jiang Cheng doesn't think so, and I don't think it's a given that parents love their children.

Side note: Macroexpression king Wang Zhuocheng is able to open his eyes so far that a giant strip of white shows above his irises, and keep them like that, which is quite a trick. Try it yourself.

Meanwhile Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao gossip about YZY and JFM's bad marriage. Wen Chao admires YZY's beauty, and Wang Lingjiao insults her character, and announces that she's going to stab YZY's body a few extra times. Jiang Cheng briefly faints at this, taking a page from Wei Wuxian's book, and rolls off the roof. 

Run Run Away

Both young men run, and run, and run away from Lotus Pier while Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao mistreat the bodies of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan 

The stabbing happens off camera, because it's ok to stab a live child on camera, but not a dead adult. (As always, there are cultural reasons for "what's ok" in any country, and I'm not saying anybody's wrong about these choices). 

Wen Chao follows this up with pouring a cup of wine across their faces. He does this in the style of a libation for the dead, but as a desecration, combining mistreatment of bodies with profaning a ceremonial rite. In a world where ghosts are real and have sharp fingernails, this is deeply, deeply stupid.

Yu Ziyuan’s actress Zhang Jingtong is able to have liquid poured INTO HER EAR without flinching. Mad props.

The brothers eventually finish running and arrive in a field with an extreme purple photo filter on it. Which I've done my best to remove for these gifs, with variable results. 

Jiang Cheng wants to turn around and go back to Lotus Pier. He says he wants to retrieve his parents’ bodies and to take revenge, but he's devastated and it seems likely he just wants to die with everyone else.  

Wei Wuxian pleads with Jiang Cheng to calm down and stay safe, while Jiang Cheng gives himself over to anger and shock as the brothers shout at each other.

Punching and running ensues, and Wei Wuxian tries to hold his brother back, grabbing him around the shoulders him in a gesture that painfully echoes the many hugs he's given over the years. 

This time Jiang Cheng doesn't just push him off. He turns around and chokes his brother for nearly a full minute, while screaming at him and blaming him. 

Just as when Madame Yu beat him, Wei Wuxian doesn't fight back; he pulls on Jiang Cheng's wrists but doesn't hit him or try to break his hold.

Finally Jiang Cheng lets him go, and cries out for everyone he's lost, while Wei Wuxian weeps silently next to him. Eventually they fall asleep in the grass together, their bodies curled up in the form of a heart. 

Damn, this episode really brings it.

Side Note: during their argument, Wei Wuxian says, among other things, that "revenge is a dish best served cold," according to subtitles. It's a French saying from the 1800s so it's probably not precisely what Wei Wuxian is saying. More importantly, as a longtime Star Trek fan I can't help but hear James Kirk yelling "KHAN!!!!!" whenever I encounter that phrase.

There’s Got To Be A Morning After

When they wake up in the morning, Jiang Cheng is still in his feelings, but now his feelings have moved along to despair, from anger.

I feel bad for noticing how handsome they both look in this scene. Let's all feel bad about this together.

Jiang Cheng is free to have this level of emotional breakdown because Wei Wuxian is there keeping his own shit together and focusing on what matters.

When Jiang Cheng refuses to get up, Wei Wuxian reminds him, very, very gently, that they have a sister, who has waited all night to know what happened.

At this, Jiang Cheng gets up, but won't look at Wei Wuxian, continuing to blame him for everybody else's actions, as he walks onward to find Yanli.

Wei Wuxian follows, hurt and bereft, as he gets to work internalizing everything that he's being accused of. This is good practice for his future as a widely reviled bogeyman.

Part two will be slightly less awful! Coming soon!

[everlarkficexchange]

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed. 

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock! 

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

  The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

  I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

  Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths. 

  It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then. 

  Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird. 

  They were starting to scare me, really.

  “There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?” 

  “Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

  “You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?” 

  The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if  we have no victim,”

  “But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

  “Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

  Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

  I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

  Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

  I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy. 

  Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it. 

  ———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down. 

  Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed. 

  Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy. 

  I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site. 

  I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

  I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it. 

  Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground. 

  Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him. 

  Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb. 

  My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated. 

  He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg. 

  The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me. 

  I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

  I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers. 

  The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

  But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’. 

  Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty. 

  I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell. 

  With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone. 

  I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster. 

  Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

  “Get out of there, Seam brat!” 

  I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door. 

  A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

  I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason. 

  Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face. 

  A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!” 

  The boy scurried by with his head down. 

  My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction. 

  I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck. 

  When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!” 

  Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us. 

  “No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

  Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while. 

  When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

  Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways. 

  All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg. 

  While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me. 

  After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow. 

  “Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

  “You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

  “I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

  I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

  After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot  something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless. 

  ——————-

  One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise. 

  A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare. 

  I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

  “Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was. 

  From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin. 

  “I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly. 

  “Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

  I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy. 

  “My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

  “Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

  I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion. 

  Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes. 

  I felt smug and satisfied. 

  I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk. 

  “Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe. 

  “It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

  Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

  I nodded. 

  “So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “Same.”

  He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,” 

  Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!” 

  I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game. 

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it. 

  He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them. 

  Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama. 

  My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability. 

  He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

  By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd. 

  Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly? 

  Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me. 

  I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

  One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

  “Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh. 

  Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed. 

  “Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

  I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world. 

  I nodded.

  Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,” 

  Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.” 

  “Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

  “For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

  “Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?” 

  Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body. 

  “Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

  I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

  Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

  From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage. 

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

  The other girls hummed their yeses. 

  “Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!” 

  There were gasps all around. 

  It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

  I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

  “What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody. 

  I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree. 

  ‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with. 

  “Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

  A big “Oh!” Swept the room. 

  Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all. 

  Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them. 

  Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on. 

  “That’s awful!” Said a girl.

  “I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

  “I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

  “Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

  “Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one. 

  I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker. 

  Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?” 

  My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

  “Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

  “Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

  “It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

  “Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises. 

  I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate. 

  Still…

  “No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning. 

  “Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

  “Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly. 

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals. 

  The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

  It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me. 

  Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily. 

  Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain. 

  It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too. 

  We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.  

  It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup. 

  Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me. 

  I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone. 

  “There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me. 

  “I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate. 

  Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address. 

  After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe. 

  Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

  “What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears. 

  Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit. 

  First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself? 

  “Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

  I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest. 

  “What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

  Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered. 

  “He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.” 

  I turned 16 that spring.

  I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back. 

  I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

  “Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

  After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass. 

  “And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

  “That’ll take weeks!” 

  “Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!” 

  “Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

  “What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

  “Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

  I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

  “I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

  I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes. 

  Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

  I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody. 

  I gasped. That had never happened before. 

  “How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically. 

  “Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

  I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly. 

  “What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

  One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there. 

  Whatever happened, was bad.

  “Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced. 

  “No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot. 

  Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad. 

  “Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

  Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,” 

  “We’ll see.”

  The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by. 

  “Look!” Gale shouted. 

  A shaky “D12” appeared under my message. 

  A relieved gasp left my mouth. 

  “District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2” 

  We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him! 

  I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

  The answer came back faster. “S H”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned,  “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

  “Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

  The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such. 

  “Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

  “He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

  Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

  That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

  “Mmm… asking has been working so far,” 

  “Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,” 

  “You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

  “Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

  “There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,” 

  “You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

  Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

  “YES    NE”

  “North East! I told you it’ll work!” 

  “Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

  “K”

  With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district. 

  “Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!” 

  There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy. 

  “Anybody here?” I called again.

  A weak cough answered in the distance. 

  I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone. 

  “Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me. 

  “Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

  I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks. 

  I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

  “Well, don’t step on me!” 

  I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain. 

  I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue. 

  “Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

  “I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

  My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way. 

  “How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

  “Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again. 

  I was momentarily frightened.

  “Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,” 

  His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?” 

  I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

  “Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

  Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree. 

  “And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice. 

  He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

  It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional. 

  “Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

  “Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

  Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly. 

  I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,” 

  He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…” 

  “Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

  “I’m so tired, Katniss,”

  “I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

  “I can’t go back to my house though—“

  “You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely. 

  I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming, 

  “Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated. 

  And that was that!

  ——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

  My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline. 

  “My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

  “Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer. 

  “My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

  “That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

  “After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

  Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away. 

  “What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

  “The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple. 

  I caressed his arm to sooth him. 

  He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

  Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

  “How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius. 

  Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

  Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?” 

  “Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head. 

  “Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers. 

  Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?” 

  “I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

  “Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

  “The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

  The officers stared at me, flabbergasted. 

  Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me. 

  Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers. 

  “Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook. 

  “Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

  Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!” 

  “No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

  “It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,” 

  Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

  “‘kay.” 

  “Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly. 

  Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

  We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned. 

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

  “Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

  I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which. 

  “So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string. 

  I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods. 

  “Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

  “Like the sunset,” he finished for me. 

  Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already. 

  He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,” 

  He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”  

  My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,” 

  “Thank you for finding me,”

  “Thank you for leading me to you,”

  We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

  “Katniss…”

  “Mmm,”

  “We are soulmates.” 

  I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

  Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,” 

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff. 

  “If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

  “It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips. 

  My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course. 

  “Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed. 

  After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief. 

  I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had. 

  “I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

  “I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

  He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

  “Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

  When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up. 

  “I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie. 

  “Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed. 

  “Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?” 

  I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness. 

  The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement. 

  Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons. 

  Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants. 

  Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help. 

  The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure. 

  The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope. 

  It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

  Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves. 

  “I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once. 

  After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18. 

  Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips. 

  On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control. 

  My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul. 

  After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

  “You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

  “Real.”

  He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?” 

  “Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

  “Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

[dailybeastarsthings]

Chapter 16 - Coming Forth

The canine room was almost completely empty. With Durham and Miguno at the Music Club, Collot at his extracurricular and Voss at the library collecting data for his project, it was only Jack in there. Having done his homework, he thought that instead of watching videos online, he would read his manga, which he had lent to Legoshi about a week or two before. He began to search for it: first, he checked around the general area – the shelves, the drawers and even behind the curtain. He then figured that it might either be in Legoshi’s backpack, which he always carries with himself, or at around his bed.

Jack went on to search for his manga under Legoshi’s bed, but the only thing he found was a couple of dust bunnies blinking back at him in confusion. He then proceeded to search Legoshi’s bed. He didn’t like the idea of doing that but he really wanted to read that manga. He reached under the pillow and found something resembling what he was looking for. However, as he pulled it out to read it, he saw something that he never imagined he would see before. It was an adult magazine. What’s more, it was a gay adult magazine called ’Velvet Bucks’, with a nude male deer at the front page, looking lustfully at the viewer. Jack had no idea how it got there but he was shocked nonetheless.

‘Oh dear’ he thought. ‘Is this really Legoshi’s? But what if it is? Is he hiding something from me? After all this time! We were always together. I thought we share everything with each other. I thought I knew everything about him! And yet… that innocent, bug loving pup he used to be, is rapidly growing into a fine young wolf…’

Jack was brought back to reality by Legoshi entering the room. He hissed at every step. That was no surprise though as his shin was full of what appeared to be needles.

‘Hi, Legoshi! What happened to you?’ Jack asked, while hastily hiding the magazine behind his back.

‘Hey! Yeah… So a male hedgehog just bumped into me in the hallway and that’s the result… These needles hurt like crazy!’

There was a moment of silence. Jack didn’t respond and made sure to keep the magazine hidden as well as he could. Legoshi looked around only to realize that the two of them were alone in the room.

‘Where are the others?’ he asked.

‘Oh… Umm… you know, club and stuff…’ Jack stuttered.

‘Oh… right’ Legoshi responded while putting down his bag. He walked into the bathroom to get himself the tweezers to take care of the cactus that was his shin. Jack took the opportunity to put the magazine back under Legoshi’s pillow.

‘Why, Legoshi!? I never thought he would turn into a crazy pervert!’ he thought. ‘Why a deer porn mag? And if anything,, why a gay deer porn mag?’ Since when is he into these things? Well I guess it’s my fault for searching around his stuff…’

Legoshi came out of the bathroom, tweezer in his hand, ready for the removal action. As he was about to lie in his bed, they looked at each other with Jack, who forced a smile on his face. Legoshi, however, saw through this façade and knew immediately that something was up. Jack couldn’t stop spiraling deeper in his thoughts as he was fighting an internal battle about the magazine.

‘Is this the reason why he never showed any interest in other canines!? Is this what they call an aberrant sexual propensity? I need to know! I have to ask him!’

It took every ounce of his courage to even get one step closer to Legoshi’s bed.

‘Legoshi…’ Jack started. ‘We’ve been friends forever, right?’ he asked nervously.

‘Umm… yeah, what’s wrong?’ Legoshi asked from behind his curtain while carefully pulling out the needles one by one.

‘Umm… so, look… I promise I’ll always believe in you and that I’ll never think you’re gross or anything’ Jack said as he poked his muzzle through the closed curtains. ‘Even if you like bugs and deer. They’re all the same to you, right?’

The next thing Jack knew was that he was sent flying by Legoshi, who kicked him in the face, jumping out of his bed. Jack landed at least two meters from the bed, Legoshi jumped on top of him, his mouth wide open, showing off all his sharp teeth, looking like a vicious beast whose rest had been interrupted. Jack was petrified.

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ he screamed. ‘I’m sorry I looked at it! Please, if you have nothing to say, close your mouth!’

Legoshi covered his mouth with his palms and got off of Jack. They sat up, ready for a conversation.

‘I just wanted to read the manga I lent you so I was trying to find it in your bed and then I found this’ Jack said, trying to explain the awkward situation while sweating profusely. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone.’

Legoshi looked at Jack with worry in his eyes. He thought about how he pounced on him mere moments after his harmless question and then he thought about the possible other questions and consequences. There was a good minute of silence before Jack finally spoke again.

‘I really don’t want to judge you but… Isn’t getting excited from deer kind of weird? What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘Kill me right here and now!’ Legoshi thought. He sat on his bed, looking Jack in the eyes.

‘Well, it’s kinda complicated’ he began. ‘There’s this male deer, Louis, the Drama Club’s lead actor. Since the last Adler performance, things just got to a point where I can’t really follow the events. On one hand, I’m confused about how I should feel about him since he is a deer and I’m a wolf. I’m starting to get some ideas but it’s stressing me out…’

‘Are you in love with him?’ Jack interrupted.

‘That’s the other thing’ Legoshi replied. ‘I don’t know. Since the play, and during the rehearsals, we’ve kind of looked out for each other more. I helped him when he fainted because of his incredible pain from his fractured leg. Then, he got me an appointment to a special treatment where they would take care of my wounds I got from fighting Bill on stage. They almost completely disappeared and the doctors said they will eventually. And it’s all thanks to him! It just feels so complicated to me…’

Jack looked at Legoshi with a calming expression on his face. He sat next to Legoshi, putting his hand on his back.

‘You know you can tell me anything’ he said.

‘Well… speaking to him is sometimes kind of awkward. When there are others around, he just seems so confident, hiding his emotions all the time, appearing to be the fiercest creature on the planet. But when it’s just the two of us, he lets me slightly closer. His tone changes, his posture changes. He almost appears to let me see his vulnerable side. But I don’t know if I can allow myself to do the same thing. I don’t know if I deserve his company. I don’t know if I deserve him. I’m a large gray wolf after all and he’s a red deer.’

‘Are you afraid of rejection?’

‘No, I don’t think that’s it. I’m more afraid of us getting closer though. Someone told me that what I am feeling are just my instincts masked as romantic feelings.’

‘That sounds brutal to be honest. You’re only a teen after all. I think that romantic feelings are more of a reasonable option right now. But let me ask you this: do you think you two would be happy together?’

‘It doesn’t really matter to me as long as he is happy. I just don’t want to hurt him in any way.’

‘Why would you? I know you. You wouldn’t hurt fly, Legoshi.’

A teardrop rolled down Legoshi’s face. He started sobbing as the scenes of the night from when he let loose of his feral instincts and attacked Haru started playing in his head.. Jack put his hand on Legoshi’s shoulder, trying to calm him down the best he could.

‘But what if I lose control over my instincts? I don’t want this to end in a murder scene. I don’t want to hurt him’ Legoshi replied, crying. Jack looked at him sorrowfully. He never saw this side of his friend so openly before but it worried him. Seeing his best friend in a state like this made his heart sink.

‘I should just sever all ties with him before I do something stupid’ Legoshi said, sobbing.

‘No! That would be the stupid thing for you to do!’ Jack replied. ‘Look, why don’t you just relax about this whole topic for a while. See how it plays out in your head then in life. Try to go with the flow. I’m not a love expert but I heard that you’re supposed to enjoy love and not stress about it all the time. Sure, your situation wouldn’t be the everyday, common, boring same-breed love story everyone dreams and talks about, but it’s that you are together what matters. Try to enjoy this while you can, Legoshi.’

Jack dabbed a tissue around Legoshi’s eyes, soaking up all the teardrops around it.

‘I’m sorry I was so insensitive. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.’

‘It’s okay’ Legoshi replied. ‘I’m glad that this just got off my chest… Thank you for listening to me.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘What do you say we go for a snack?’ Legoshi asked with a visibly forced smile on his face.

‘Egg sandwich?’ Jack asked.

‘Sounds good to me.’

The two best friends laughed a little then headed for their snacks to the school supply shop together, throwing the magazine into the nearest garbage bin.

[fanfoolishness]

The Invitation (The Mandalorian)

Spoilers for the entirety of The Mandalorian S1 and S2.  Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again.  A promise is kept.  Bittersweet but hopeful, 2600 words. ***

He did not remember when he stopped dreaming of life before his armor.  He was still so young when his dreams first began to show themselves through the filter of a beskar helmet, when he grew used to the sound of his voice slightly muffled and mechanized.  

This dream seemed no different than his usual, at least at first.  Sometimes they were soaring, vivid things; his parents’ faces that final day, memories of battles etched into his body and bones, lessons in his youth with the Covert.  Other times they were merely soft, confused impressions he barely remembered upon waking.  But always there was the familiar sense and weight of beskar.

Din sat now in the Razor Crest, hands resting on the controls.  Something tickled at the back of his mind, a sense that this wasn’t right, but he ignored it.  He checked the navicomputer, setting a course to a planet he didn’t know in a language he couldn’t read, and the starfield stretched before him.

A small noise beside him caught his attention.  He turned to see Grogu there, poking flashing buttons, a mischievous look on his face.  

“Hey now,” he said, with a sternness he didn’t really feel.  “You know better.”  It’s so good to see you, buddy.  He smiled beneath the helmet.

The child’s ears lowered, the tips brushing his sturdy robes.  He slowly raised his eyes to Din, and something about the way they gleamed, so bright, so present, cut Din to the core.  For a moment, he wondered --

The dream shifted, beginning to buckle under the weight of the knowledge that he was dreaming.  The Crest darkened and drifted around them, and he began to forget, began to lose himself.  No!  I want to stay with him -- please --

He reached out a hand, blurry in the faltering dream, to try and touch the child’s face one more time --

He awoke with a start, breathing hard, tears on his cheeks.  He sat bolt upright in his narrow bunk, trying to remember just one more glimpse of the child.  He closed his eyes, fixing the memory as closely as he could.  There were not enough of them.  There would never be enough.

He bowed his head.  He’s safe.  You did the right thing.  The Jedi will protect him.

But the words felt just as hollow now as they did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.  The wound was still so fresh; it had only been a few short weeks since the rescue.  He lay awake long into the night, the tears drying on his naked face.

***

Life continued as ever it did. He’d seen it many times before.  One day your world shattered, the next, you kept going anyway.  He told himself he’d do it again, and again, because what else was there to do but fight forward?  

He knew what he had done on the bridge for the Child.  Knew what the Armorer would declare, knew that the Children of the Watch would have rejected him utterly.  Clan Mudhorn would be stricken from the records, the title Mandalorian stripped from his soul.

But he traveled not with the Children of the Watch now.  He traveled with an heir to the Mandalorian throne, who wore her bare face as proudly as her armor, and when he slowly, cautiously, placed his helmet on once more, beskar still felt like home.  

Each morning he tended to his armor: cleaned and polished the beskar with reverence, checked the clothing and leathers for tears, made repairs as needed with a miniature arc torch, with needle and thread.  

Each morning he tended to his weapons: performed maintenance on his blaster, topped off fuel levels for the Dragon Flame, carefully adjusted the Whistling Birds, calibrated the Rising Phoenix, gingerly examined the unwanted Darksaber.  

Each morning he held a little silver ball, brushing his thumb over its smooth surface, praying his promise had not been a lie.

He kept going.

This was the Way.

***

The sands of Tatooine.  A faint desert smell even through his helmet’s filter, boots sinking into the dunes, Peli Motto’s droids chittering away to themselves.  Din and Grogu sat against the landing gear of the Crest, Grogu leaning against Din’s hip.

“Hey there, kid,” Din said softly.  He reached down and stroked the tip of one of Grogu’s long ears.  “You having a good time?”

Grogu turned his head and looked steadily at him, face and ears spreading into a small smile. 

Din reached into his bag, pulling out cookies for the child.  Perhaps they weren’t the most nutritious food, but Grogu ate plenty of protein, and Din had the extra coin for a treat today.  He handed a cookie to Grogu, a little blue stack of sugar, and the child bit into it, watching him expectedly.

“Oh, you want --”  Din looked around, searching for shadows, figures.  The droids and the mechanics had melted away.  “You want me to try one?”

Grogu’s shoulders jumped up in excitement as he finished his cookie.  Din handed him another, then held one between his gloved fingers, considering.

He lifted his helmet slightly, just enough to expose his mouth, and took a bite.  Grogu let out a sweet little sound, almost like a giggle.

Happy, Din thought.  Or felt.  He wasn’t certain how he knew it, but he did.  Was he happy?  Was Grogu?  It was difficult to tell where he ended, where the child began, here in the gritty sand beneath the cloudless skies, here in the dream --  

He woke up reaching for the little silver ball, and clasped it to his chest, remembering.

***

The dreams, though rare, stayed with him: a humming presence in the back of his mind even as he traveled between far-flung stars, speaking words of war and battle with the other Mandalorians, fighting for a forgotten world.  Things were in motion now that he had never meant, had never dreamed when he was a foundling boy first given his helmet. The Darksaber hung heavy at his hip, a reluctant weight.  

He trained with the others in the ways of the Rising Phoenix, in the wielding of the Darksaber, in the history of Mandalore.  It was difficult, sometimes, being around so many after long years spent mostly alone.  But in quiet times, the empty spaces of new journeys, Din studied.  Ways of ancient Mandalore, Ways of different clans whose names he had never heard spoken, new understandings of what the Creed meant.  

He found a comfort there: he found a path his own. 

He stood on the soil of a dozen different moons and planets.  The mossy loam of Endor, springy beneath each footstep.  The white salt fields of Crait, red sand clinging to his boots.  The rain-worn rocks of Eadu.  The desert sands of Savareen, caressed by ocean waves. 

He stood beneath a dozen suns and moons, his helmet cradled beneath his arm.  The wind tossed his hair; the rain lashed his face; the sunlight warmed his cheeks.  He breathed deep of each world, of the scents of fern and tree, wind and water, and he was not ashamed.

He was a Mandalorian.

***

Din looked around.  The Razor Crest again, each inch of it his well-remembered home.  But his view was not quite the same as he best recalled it.  He reached up.  He felt skin beneath his gloved fingertips, not beskar.

Grogu burbled on his lap, little green hands resting on the instrument bank.  Din bowed over him, his face working into a smile.  He was still learning the different ways his expressions could be used, a skill he had never learned as an adult.  The smile felt clumsy, but Grogu’s delighted coo let him know he had gotten it right.

“Grogu,” he said, and the little one leaned against him, safe in his arms.

“You like it here, huh?” Din asked quietly.  Memory flickered, filtering in through the comforting warmth of -- was this a dream again?  He faltered.  “I’m afraid I don’t have the Crest anymore.”

Grogu gazed up at him, clearly puzzled.  Din closed his eyes.  “They destroyed it.  When they took you away.”  His throat burned, eyes stinging.  How did this feel so real?  So clear?

Grogu’s ears dropped, his little face falling.  Din took both of the child’s small hands in his, holding them gently.

“I’m sorry, Grogu,” he murmured.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from taking you.”

Little hands gripped his own.  A thought, a feeling, a knowing.  

I...  did everything I could.  He understands.

He held his child until the dream dissolved, and he woke up in the dark, his face damp again.

***

Weeks drifted into months.  Months threatened years.  He earned new scars, new weapons, a new ship.  The Darksaber still felt foreign, but it was a weight that he could bear, at least for a little while.

The dreams continued, always sporadic, but growing a little clearer, a little longer every time. Sometimes they were on Sorgan, sometimes Nevarro.  More recently, they were starting to be places Din had traveled but Grogu had never seen; and he had not dreamed of the Razor Crest since he’d admitted to Grogu that it was gone.

He wasn’t sure what meaning to ascribe to this.  They were merely dreams, after all, visions crafted by heart and mind and memory. The only strange thing about them was that feeling, that sense of realer than real that left him grieving and grateful both every time he awoke.

No matter.  He only knew that the dreams comforted him, reminded him of what he still fought for every day. That was enough, wasn’t it?

***

He stood on Mandalor, the ruined skies above him, the blasted earth at his feet.  It tore at him.  Bones of the mythosaur had been ground into the dust long ago, and his people’s sorrow was heavy all around him.  He had never been here before.  Had he?

He turned to Grogu, clinging to his shin, and picked the child up.  In his other arm he held his helmet.  “We don’t fly the Crest anymore, when I meet you here,” he said suddenly.  It hung between them, a query, an accusation.

Grogu gazed at him, Mandalor’s sun glimmering in his eyes.  

“... ever since I told you the Crest was gone,” he murmured.

Realization.  Understanding.  He knew what I said.  And the dreams changed.  Din froze, his heart pounding.  Could it --

“Grogu,” he said carefully.  “Are… are you here?”

Grogu clapped his hands together in delight, then reached up, his fingertips brushing against Din’s cheek.  He cooed with contentment.

“How?” Din whispered.

Flashes, fierce and vivid.  Tython.  The seeing stone.  Grogu seeking, seeking --

“I’m not a Jedi,” Din said mulishly.  “How could you --”

Grogu leaned against him, tucking his head under Din’s chin.

Grogu meditating, face calm and concentrating, the Jedi seated beside him --

A heavy stillness in the air, the indefinable sense of something greater; visions of certain places where power flourished, places where the child could reach beyond --

The bond between them, a force its own -- his own face shining in the child’s eyes --

“I don’t understand, kid,” said Din desperately, fighting a rising sense of hope, confusion, wonder.  Sunlight slanted through the skies above them, banishing the ruined clouds.  Grogu was content in his arms, curled up, fighting sleep --

And Mandalor shimmered around them, whole and beautiful once more, falling away into the stars.

***

Din jerked awake, breathing hard.  He fumbled for the little silver ball, holding it so tightly his fingers throbbed with the beat of his heart.  

“It’s him,” he whispered, his voice a faint, shocked murmur sinking into the ship’s stillness.  “Dank farrik, kid!”  

He laughed so hard he nearly choked, tears streaming down his face.

***

The days arced away, seasons changing between the stars, and he pressed onward.  Beskar was home, foundation, protector, salvation.  He carried it into the greater galaxy with honor.  It gleamed to all, a symbol of Mandalore and the Way.

But he wore new armor beneath his beskar, secret, sustaining, a burning hope.  Strange he had once forgotten how it felt.  He carried with him a certain knowledge, a joy that bettered the long days beyond measure.  

He knew the dreams were real.

He knew, truly, that Grogu had not forgotten him.

***

There was a final dream.

Din sat in the grass, gray-streaked hair lifted by the soft breeze beneath a yellow sun.  Birdsong chimed in trees tall and elegant and beautiful.  He scented rich flowers on the air.  In the distance, a temple rose from beyond the trees, its form as natural to the landscape as the hills themselves.

Grogu sat beside him, only a little bigger than Din remembered.  He looked peaceful, calm, assured.  He smiled, ears tipping upward.

“I miss you, kid,” said Din simply.

Grogu dipped his head in something like a nod, then leaned against him, sighing.  Din rested his hand on the child’s shoulder, where it belonged.

A sudden sensation at his side.  Din reached for the silver ball, but it wasn’t there.

It hung before them, gleaming, rotating in the bright sunlight.  It looked just as it did in the waking world, with one side worn smooth and dull from long handling.

Grogu gazed up at him.  The ball spun.

“Go on, take it,” said Din.  

The ball sank into Grogu’s outstretched hand.  His small face creased into a silent laugh, and he rested his other hand on Din’s leg, a look of focus settling into his expression.

Din closed his eyes.  And he saw --

He saw a name, clear as day, Aurebesh letters searing into his mind’s eye.

Saw coordinates, precisely laid out, leading to a system, a planet, a temple.

He saw an invitation.

“I’ll be there,” breathed Din. He gathered Grogu into his arms.  “As soon as I can.”  They held each other as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, as he slipped back into waking once again.

***

The ship soared through the air, seeking a point of touchdown.  Din checked the coordinates again, his heart racing.  What if he’d been wrong?  What if all of this was some kind of madness, some trick of the imagination?  

The temple crested the horizon, ringed with those tall, beautiful trees, rising against the sun-soaked hills.  He let out a shaky breath.

He landed near the temple in a flat clearing.  He checked his belt, touched the silver ball once more, and made his way out onto the grass.

Motes danced on the air in the golden sunlight streaming through the trees.  The evening light was warm on his beskar.  Birds in the canopy sang with familiar voices, calling him onward, and he held no weapon in his hands.

There was a small sound, the tiniest sensation at his hip.  He brushed his hand against his belt.  Where did it --

The silver ball hung in the air before him, gleaming in the golden light.

Din stared at it.  His chest rose, then fell, his shoulders heaving.  His vision blurred as he reached for his helmet, as he wiped at his eyes with an unsteady hand.

The ball drifted forward, spinning a perfect orbit along a controlled and steady path.  Din Djarin followed. 

He knew his child waited.

***

The Jedi stood peacefully near the seeing stones, his faithful droid beside him. Far beyond him, two figures approached each other, one small and clad in simple brown, the other tall in shining silver.  For a moment they stopped, frozen, the distance between them miniscule and yet immense. 

The Mandalorian sank to his knees, helmet forgotten beside him, arms opened.  The Child stepped forward into the waiting embrace, something silver flashing in his small hand.  And on the gentle breeze, the Jedi heard the sounds of laughter.

--------------------------------------------

(Author’s note: We know that canonically, seeing stones or other places of great Force power can magnify a Force user’s powers, including telepathy.  Din is not Force-sensitive, but Force users with powerful bonds can reach those people more easily.  I like to think that Grogu kept sneaking out of the temple to go sit on those damn things and call on Din when he could reach his mind in sleep.  I also like to think Luke let him.)

[thebirdandhersong]

Hey, so I've basically never watched any k-dramas, but I've read a lot of manga and manhwa and the automatic next step does feel like moving into k-dramas. You seem to have watched a number, so I was wondering if you could make a recommended list? Only if you felt like it of course, but it would be helpful! (Preferably of at least some which are on netflix uk, I looked up 18 again but it's unfortunately not on here in Britain :(. But if you have favourites I'd just like to know them so I can look out for them anywhere)

Also yay! Your term's ended!

(yanks open the door) did someone say RECOMMENDATIONS?? I DO have many!!! Boy do I have them!!!!

(YAY!! One last exam and I'm done for the summer!)

I love Eastern entertainment (manga, k-dramas, c-dramas, and movies from Korea and Taiwan) because of several reasons: the scripts are phenomenal nine times out of ten; Asian culture puts a strong emphasis on the importance of family, personal responsibility, learning from one's mistakes, expressing affection through gestures and acts of service, and friendship and I really love seeing that in a story; and they make good use of silence and stillness in shows and movies, which is pretty rare in Hollywood. The quiet moments between characters are more often than not some of the most important in the story and I Love That!!

The dramas I'm (briefly) listing are in bold if they're available on Netflix UK, and in bold and italicised if they're available on Rakuten Viki (which is a mostly-free drama streaming service, though unfortunately they're rather heavy on the ads). The Absolute Favourites are marked with stars (***). Though I can't actually see the whole list of dramas available in the UK, so some of these may be wrong, and it may be worth checking twice!

If you're in the mood for something fast-paced:

Descendants of the Sun (Viki); considered a Classic

- romantic comedy, medical drama, a bit of action

- The confident and charming leader of a Special Forces unit meets a reserved surgeon and they hit it off, after some... interesting misunderstandings. But after dating briefly and breaking up, they find themselves reunited on a peacekeeping mission in a war-torn country. Insert a lot of Suspense and Excitement but also a lot of Comedy and Sincere Declarations of Love.

- if you enjoy Song Joongki's performance, I'd also recommend his movie A Werewolf Boy. If you enjoy Song Hye-kyo's performance, I'd recommend her drama Encounter.

***Come and Hug Me (Viki, but I don't know if it costs money?)

- thriller/suspense, romance, this one genuinely stressed me out but the moments of peace and reconciliation (and the ENDING) were well worth it

- Their first loves during their youth ends in her mother's death and their separation. Years later, the lively daughter of the murdered woman is now an actress, and the introverted son of the serial killer has become a police officer. They meet each other again (Of Course) and have to tackle all sorts of Nonsense (including the serial killer's return, his murderous brother's return from prison, the Media, the ghosts of their past, etc. etc.) together. HUGE focus on forgiveness, hope, healing, unconditional and self-sacrificial love. Also one of the best redemption arcs (I did in fact bawl my eyes out)

- my friend just started crying when we first watched this drama together because the male lead is just so gentle and tenderhearted and steadfast :')

If you're in the mood for something a bit slower

***Goblin/Guardian (Viki); International Acclaim

- fantasy, drama, one of the funniest dramas I've ever watched, but also tears (I cried at a rate of around once every two episodes. This show talks a lot about life and meaning and the effect your actions and words have on the people around you.)

- Kim Shin, a general from the Goryeo Dynasty, is cursed to live as an immortal Goblin (a Korean mythical/fairy tale figure) until his destined Bride pulls the sword from his chest, thus breaking the 'spell' and ending his life. He really did not expect his bride to be the vivacious and irrepressible Eun-tak, though, and What's More!! He did not expect that he would start wanting to live again :))) Includes a surprising amount of comedy, a surprising amount of tears, and EXCELLENT screenwriting. (Descendants and Goblin share the same brilliant writer.)

- fun fact: parts of it were shot in Quebec!! One of the characters refers to Canada as "the maple nation" early on in the story and my friend and I just burst into laughter.

***Encounter (Viki, but I'm not sure if it costs money?)

- melodrama, romantic comedy, FAIRY TALE

- a cold and withdrawn woman, recently divorced because of her husband's infidelity, and a warm-hearted and optimistic young man meet on the streets of Cuba by accident, and upon separating without means of contact, find themselves back in Korea as boss and newly hired employee. This sounds like a recipe for disaster: stuffed to the gills with unnecessary workplace drama and gossip, etc. but the story focuses instead on family, vulnerability, transformation, sacrifice, about art, compassion, mending relationships, opening up to people, and about the beauty in bringing and receiving comfort and love.

- also. ALSO. Fairy tale!!! with illustrated opening and ending cards and everything!!! (they literally refer to her as the Ice Princess. And her Prince is the human equivalent of sunshine. I Love him)

- if you like Park Bo-gum's performance, I'd recommend Reply 1988, too!

***One Spring Night

- melodrama; quiet and understated but very beautiful

- A bright, clever, and sharp-tongued librarian meets a quiet, steady, and gentle pharmacist one day. It turns out that he's a single father, and she's trapped in a relationship that really isn't working out. Friendship! Family! Sisters standing up for each other and saying No I Won't Let You Treat My Sister Like This, You Jerk! Figuring things out! Learning how to love! I really don't know what else to say, except for the fact that I loved it very much!!

- if you enjoy Jung Hae-in's performance, I'd also recommend Something in the Rain (which should also be on Netflix!) for his acting alone. I just think he's neat.

Reply 1988

- slice-of-life, comedy

- In the late 1980s, five friends (four boys, one girl) who have grown up with each other since childhood are Going Through It in high school. This drama is all about the little things that happen in life, and about learning to understand your family and your friends. Deok-sun is just trying to survive all of This as the middle child, and as a young girl who is trying to figure this Romance thing out. In the present, adult Deok-sun is just as lively, and is now happily married..... but to whom? :))) A Lot of '80s Asian culture, daily antics, and good old friendship.

- if you like Park Bo-gum's performance, I'd recommend Encounter too :)

18 Again (Viki)

- romantic comedy, fantasy/time travel (sort of)

- Nearly twenty years of marriage, and things have been going Wrong all over the place. His wife wants a divorce, he's no longer close to his teenaged kids, and he's just lost the job he's been faithfully working at for years. Daeyoung wishes that he could go back somehow, and finds himself 18 once again.... except he's still in the present. Interesting things ensue. He enrolls in school (it turns out to be the same one his kids attend), and decides to pursue the dreams he had to give up when he was a teenager. Antics ensue! But also Healing: he gets to know his kids all over again, and is able to view his relationships with Dajung (whom he still loves. Of course) and his estranged father in a new light.

- I have not finished this drama yet but judging from the first third of it, it is both well-written and well-acted. There are a few things that I am not a fan of, but on the whole Lee Dohyun's performance is wonderful and I have already cried buckets.

Other honourable mentions:

100 Days My Prince: historical drama. Prince caught in an assassination plot, loses his memory, wakes up in a village right when the king issues a marriage law that results in his marrying the spirited 'spinster'.

Still 17/Thirty But Seventeen: 17 year old violin prodigy in a coma after an accident, wakes up when she's 30; the boy who inadvertently caused the accident runs into her again after she wakes up and helps her adjust to her new life. Lots of wacky humour, very sweet!!

[border-spam]

Do u have any like soft/dumb headcannons for how the twins act around each other in private? Like do one of them purposefully give the other the drink which has less, kinda situations. Also sorry if this has already been asked

The twins grew up in near total isolation, it’s a factor about them that’s easy to forget but affects every part of how they act as adults.

If Typhon or Leda didn’t teach them it or it wasn’t in one of the old shows they had access to from the ship’s media files, they don’t know about it. 

They were 20 the first time they heard of half the little nuanced childhood things so many people take for granted. Ask Tyreen to “Rock/Paper/Scissors for it”, and she’ll politely tell you she doesn’t have any. Try to initiate a game of slapsies with Troy and he’ll just deck you while looking confused. 

They are weird, they are completely removed from the shared formative games and habits other people have had, and the ones they developed together instead are unique to the point of coming across as wrong to others - something they still get irritated about years later. 

Seifa scrabbling out of her ratty sofa to grab Troy’s arm and ask where they were both going when Ty told him the shower was ready. The look on her face as she desperately tried not to laugh while explaining that no, the water wouldn’t be wasted if they had separate ones, no it’s fine, it doesn’t take long to heat up, it’s not being done over a fire. 

Finding out other people thought it was weird to share a toothbrush or a towel, why? What’s wrong with using the same cup? Why is being under the same blanket a problem?? That had been a rude awakening - being told other people would see something they’d done since they were born as taboo was rough, specially when it was for a reason neither of them had ever thought of before. Gross. Plenty of wincing side eyes between them as Sei had explained that one...

Most of the little things the twins have carried since childhood in their behavior have to be toned down around others. It’s not Godlike to sideways squat-walk into your brother’s room while grunting “What up, dickface”. It’s not divine to belch onto your sister’s tea when she asks you to pass it to her.

No one else really understands the games they made up as kids, the in jokes, the sounds that can render them both into eye watering giggles because they remember the references, so they keep that shit to themselves. It’s a little reminder that they are actually twins.

Troy sneaks food back to their shared cloister. Vegetables and fruits he’s never seen before while out at galas end up staining the inside of his suit pockets. His coat is lined with semi forgotten snacks, and it’s all for Ty. They had a game as kids where when he came across something new while foraging, they’d take it in turns to try and describe how it tasted to the other - Tyreen leeching it to dust and trying to see if she could accurately describe her understanding of the taste to Troy before he put it in his mouth, then him scoring her description out of ten as he crunched through.

He still gets a little thrill of excitement when he see’s new food as an adult because of it, and sitting cross legged facing each other as he chews an Athenian pickle and tries to get across what it *tastes* like using descriptions of colours and memories Tyreen will understand is something you can find them laughing together about in their mid twenties. 

They hit each other a lot. Not aggressively, they just have zero qualms about slapping each other off seats or kicking shins. 

They rough-housed constantly as kids, Ty eager to get rid of pent up energy and Troy happy to be able to overpower his sister even if it was just due to sheer size, and it never stopped as they got older. He’ll lay on the couch next to her and launch her sideways off it with a carefully aimed push of his foot when she won’t stop talking. She’ll yawn a good morning to his groggy, makeup smeared face, then land a pulled punch to his back just under the ribs as he stumbles past her. 

Seifa has walked in on them in a crumpled heap on the floor, Troy in a headlock as he choke-holds his sister because neither of them would agree on what compilation vid they would watch that night. There’s a lot of physical bickering with good intentions behind it, and if it happens then they are in good moods.  

They have a twin language, though it’s not words so much as a collection of sounds and facial expressions they have references for from years of being bored shitless together on Nekro. Subtle sneers and eye-rolls coupled with chuckled whispers under their breath that leave both of them grinning ear to ear and whatever poor sap who’s been trying to get one over the God Twins sweating under their fancy suit collar. 

She takes his clothes a lot, older ones he’s broken in around Sanctum mysteriously vanish. He pretends not to notice. 

He raids her cabinets often, high end skincare and pampering treatments sent from sponsors tend to be gifted to Tyreen, but she ends up never using them and says nothing about them going missing.

As time goes on in Leech Lord, the divide between them grows slowly. His attempts to flip back into old habits begin to get rebuked. She doesn’t want to sit next to him in the cloister anymore. She’s got no interest in watching things. She stares at him irritably when he snickers a word they made up as kids under his breath as one of her Saints drones through a report in front of their thrones. 

The punches feel more real. 

But there are still nights, rarely, that she creeps into Sanctum in the deep quiet and wakes him with freezing cold feet against his back when she starts to snore under his bed covers, and God King Calypso still sometimes pockets vegetables he’s never seen before if he thinks no one is watching.

They are twins, after all.

Asks are open!

[cherrywoes]

AAAA YES- I have been waiting for this opportunity haha! May I ask for just a soft moment between the reader and (now known as) Shion? I’m absolutely enamoured by their relationship and I just want to see the two maybe cuddle a bit and act disgustingly domestic. I wouldn’t mind either headcanons of how they generally act around each other maybe even a small story of maybe 2k ish words? Whatever you’re comfortable with!

Tbh I’m just looking forward to learn more about Shion and his mannerisms TT I hope you have a wonderful day and take care!

a/n: haha i was waiting on this to show up! <3 i did both the small story and the headcanons (at the end) so i hope you enjoy! this ended up around 3k so i’m pretty happy with the result. you have a wonderful day as well! for those of you who don’t know who ama-no-kagaseo/shion is, he’s an oc from my jjk fic dark sun. 

of custard buns, apples, and mandarin oranges.

— ama-no-kagaseo (shion) + reader.

It was a quiet day for you today. There were no assassins, no awful weather to rain on your parade (quite literally, might you add), and, somehow, Sayaka would not be at your side today. Something about a first grade Curse had pulled her away for the day, sending her to the countryside—a place not known for its Curses—for the time being. You weren’t sure why Gojou couldn’t do it, since he was perfectly capable of going himself, but you weren’t going to ignore the chance that this brought you.

You were going to make pastries.

“Pastries?” Ama-no-Kagaseo (Shion, now, you needed to remember) materialized at your side, so close that he was practically leaning on you. He was oddly more in tune with your thoughts than usual after you’d given him that name, or something had changed—more specifically, his attention revolved around you more than anything else now. While that malevolent nature still crept out at times—never to you, but to nearly everyone else on the campus—it was subdued, and he appeared almost docile though you knew that was far from the truth. “I’ve never seen you make them before.”

His innocent curiosity of everything you did was endearing, to say the least. Having never taken interest in human pursuits before, he was set on learning everything you did even if he had no true want to learn it in the first place. He learned it because, through that activity, whatever it may be, he was closer to you, and therefore, in his mind, any time spent being close to you was precious time to him. Being a god and immortal, time that was considered anything other than ‘boring’ was important to him, however, most of it being linked back to you could be a very deadly double-edged sword… for other people, perhaps.

With a smile, you shook your head and held up an index card with the recipe for coconut custard buns. It was one of your favorites, something Sayaka had always bought for you when you were younger and had a notorious sweet tooth, and you’d been craving it recently. But without any way to contact her while she was off on a mission, you were left with only one other option: to make them yourself. You’d discovered the recipe (admittedly, you’d been snooping at first) in a magazine that had belonged to Gojou at some point. It had been left in the common rooms and, well, you considered it free game if he had just left it there when he was done with it.

“That’s because I haven’t,” you replied with a small laugh. You could feel his question burning into the side of your face without even having to look over at him. If you did, you would see a slightly pleading expression on his face, followed by the faint bunching of his brows because Amatsumikaboshi did. Not. Plead. But for you, he most likely would and that was all that mattered. “Yes, you can help me make them, Shion.”

He lit up like a light at the sound of his name. You’d been struggling to remember to call him that and not Ama-no-Kagaseo or Amatsumikaboshi, having done so for years beforehand, so breaking a habit like that was difficult for you. There was a set preconception to those names; all the higher ups saw him as was the malevolent, admittedly vicious god who would see them all destroyed if he had his way, but this was not ‘Amatsumikaboshi’—at least not to you. You’d seen several sides of him in the past few years, but this one—excited, happy even—was the one you liked the most, even if you were fond of both aspects of his godhood.

In his adult and personal form, he looked almost like a giant, overeager puppy—dragon, you thought, at a second glance, peering at the horns poking out over strands of white hair—at the idea of helping you cook. Which, to most people, might be bizarre in and of itself; what god would lower himself to cooking?

“What do they taste like?” He inquired, further leaning on you to the point where he was about to push you over. He wanted a glimpse of the index card, you thought, but then he rested his head on your shoulder instead. He was careful to avoid poking you with his horns and had his head situated at an odd angle that looked uncomfortable. “[Name]?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, pressing your mouth to the top of his head in a mockery of a kiss. He did this to you all the time, and now you understood why: it was extremely intimate, very close and comforting. He always smelled like an interesting mix of the ocean, some tropical flower that you had no name for, and almond oolong tea. It never changed, even when he was in a different form, oddly enough. You didn’t mind it. It was a very sweet, pleasing scent. “Oh, they taste like… custard and tangzhou bread, but I guess you wouldn’t know what that tastes like. You can try it and see if you like it, since you will be helping me.”

“Can we make them now?” He asked, shifting so he was looking up at the underside of your jaw and eyelashes. “I’m curious.”

“Of course.” You smiled and gently pushed a few strands away from his eyes so you could see them better. He’d always had pretty eyes, you’d thought, that seemed to shine with more knowledge than you could ever fathom. Now, though, they were focused on you, those slit pupils wide enough that you could see your reflection in them. As an afterthought, you leaned down and kissed his forehead, much in the same way he did to you when he thought you were napping. When you pulled away, you watched a pale blush creep up his neck and ears, which was just adorable. “But first, we need to make you blend in a bit.”

Confusion rolled across his face like a thundercloud. He stood and helped you to your feet when you struggled to get your legs out from under yourself, numb from sitting so long, and held your weight for a few moments while you waited for the blood to flow back into your legs. “Blend in?”

“Mhm.” You touched his horns and then pointed to his kimono. “I don’t think there’s anyone here right now, but in case someone comes in you’ll look like you’re just a sorcerer. If someone found out you could separate yourself from me like this, they’d report it to the higher ups and I’d be put back in confinement again.”

“No,” Shion said, and at first you thought it was to making him blend in. The scowl that appeared on his face was lethal. “I’ll kill them first.”

With a light laugh, you rose to your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was almost like watching magic, the way his scowl turned into a pleased little smile. “You can’t kill everyone who finds out about you. Then they’ll get suspicious and know it was you.”

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, after a moment, leaning just a bit closer to you. “How will I ‘blend in’, so to speak.”

“Well…” You looked up at his horns, then his hair—which wasn’t all that strange, Gojou had white hair and Itadori had pink hair—and afterwards, his yukata. He could easily be mistaken as a member of one of the three clans and you could say he was replacing Sayaka for the day. You reached up and fingered his horns, surprised at how sharp the individual points were; they were almost like a deer’s horns. “Can you make these go aw—”

And just like that, they were gone, leaving you touching nothing but air.

“Right,” you mumbled, lowering your hand to pick up the astronomically long lengths of hair running down his back. It ended right at his hips, so you could, theoretically, just tie it into a bun and leave it like that. You’d seen plenty of Zen’in men wear their hair like that. “Okay, sit over here.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed and patted the floor with your foot. You retrieved your brush from the nightstand and waited until he was settled, then picked up a strand of hair and started brushing from the bottom to the roots. While they weren’t tangled, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of pain—could he even feel pain?—and gently ran the brush through his hair. He made no complaint and allowed you to continue sectioning off parts of his head, and obediently let you tilt his head this way and that so you could get the areas hanging over his shoulder.

When you were finished brushing it and making sure there weren’t any knots, you set down the brush and began combing his hair back with your fingers. He went entirely limp against your legs, a deep, rolling purr echoing from somewhere in his chest although you could feel it echoing in your shins. You’d heard him purr like that a few times before, usually when he was sitting in the sun of your window like a particularly lazy cat, but this was the first time he’d done it because of something you did. And it was unusually loud, as well, and you had to wonder if it was because he was starting to drift off.

You gathered the rest of his hair up, brushed out the parts that stuck out, and tied it off with a piece of twine you’d had lying around. You didn’t think he would appreciate wearing a sparkly blue ponytail—actually, he more than likely wouldn’t mind matching you. An idea for another day, then.

“Alright,” you said, resting your hands on his shoulders. The purring stopped and he stretched, lifting his arms above his head and popping almost every single bone in his back until he was done. Then he relaxed, head in your lap, and stared up at you. “What?”

Shion continued staring, golden eyes flicking over your face contemplatively. “You’re the most beautiful human in existence to me.”

Oh. You could just feel the blood rushing up to your face, hot and tingly. You stared down at him, mouth falling open in useless stutters, then closed your mouth and pressed your hands to your face. “I… Um…”

“You don’t need to say anything.” He reached up and gently nudged your arm out of the way so he could rest the pads of his fingers against your heart. “I can feel everything you do.”

You were hesitant to lower your hands, but at an encouraging pulse sent through your connection, you dropped them to your lap and cradled his face in your hands. It was moments like these where you had to wonder if Shion knew everything or what you only made obvious. He never said anything, if he did, so you supposed he kept to himself so you could say what you wanted to and nothing else.

The both of you stayed like that for a few moments, caught in an interesting limbo, until you remembered the whole point of making him look somewhat human in the first place.

“Alright,” you sighed, sufficiently calmed down enough that you could make sense of your words again. You patted his cheek softly in a gesture for him to get up. “Let’s go make those custard pastries, hm?”

The college kitchen was nothing to scoff at, but it was also everything you’d never had before. You had cooked before, of course, but not with anything super high tech. Luckily it was easy enough to figure out how to work the oven and you gathered the ingredients from the cupboards, setting them all down on a counter, and got to work.

Shion (even wearing an apron) helped you through every step, although you left the kneading and stirring to him since he was the god and you, decidedly, were not. He was happy to do whatever you asked of him and it was funny watching him get irritated with the ball of dough when you said it needed to rest before you could stuff it and cook it.

While you waited thirty some minutes for the dough to sit and rise, you retrieved a small bowl of fruit you had cut while watching him labor over the dough. It was mostly apples and mandarin oranges, both some of your favorites. You didn’t want to get your hands sticky so you used chopsticks to eat them, and offered an apple slice to Shion when he sent a curious glance at the bowl. He stared at it for a moment and then leaned down to take a hesitant bite of it, pulling away so you couldn’t make him eat the rest if he didn’t like it. You popped the rest in your mouth and watched his face for any sign that he didn’t like it, but when he finished chewing he nodded his head and gestured for you to give him another.

You spent the next thirty minutes like this, eating apples and oranges and offering some to Shion whenever he indicated he wanted another. He spent a lot of time savoring the flavors while you just ate one and immediately ate another, which you assumed came down to him never eating human food before.

When the dough finished rising, it took you no time to fill them and pop them in the oven with Shion’s help. With thirty five minutes more to wait, you sat down in a chair and Shion followed, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Shion?” You asked, inching your head back to mimic the pose he had been in earlier. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He looked amused that you had to ask. “What is it?”

“Why do you always want me to wear kimonos?” You inquired. You’d always assumed it was to signify that you were his vessel in the most obvious way possible, but you’d also never asked him. You’d just assumed. “These ones specifically.”

“Ah.” He nodded and his eyebrows furrowed deeply in thought. “Before I was cast aside as a failed product, my mother—Izanami, as I’m sure you know—made a set of kimonos specifically for the one I would choose as a partner one day. She did this for all of my siblings, I believe. The originals are lost to time, so I made these in their fashion.”

“Oh.” You touched the hem of your kimono thoughtfully. “And these—they don’t remind you of your mother?”

“No.” Shion rested his chin on your head with a pleased sigh. “You wear them, therefore they remind me of you.”

And you had to say you didn’t mind that.

The custard buns were done after twenty minutes or so, so you parted from Shion and pulled them out of the oven to let them cool. Or, at least, that was your intention; Shion, foolishly or stupidly, you didn’t know, picked one up with his bare hand and you had to watch in disbelief as he took a bite of nearly scalding hot bread and custard and said ‘It’s good’.

“Shion!” You exclaimed, watching his eyes dart over to you over the custard bun in his hand. “That’s hot! You can’t just eat it like that—”

“Why not?” He interrupted, taking another bite as if just to spite you. “It’s not too hot.”

“For you, maybe,” you sighed, watching with envy as he polished off the rest of his bun in one go. “I have to wait for them to cool.”

He seemed to realize, belatedly, what he had done—or he felt your envy, at any rate—and frowned. He approached you and swept you into his arms, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head affectionately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

You exhaled through your nose and rubbed his back soothingly, indicating you weren’t mad at him. “It’s okay, Shion. Here, help me clean up while I wait for them to cool off and consider it forgotten.”

He nodded eagerly and, in the span of about two seconds, proceeded to use his curse energy to sweep everything back into the cupboards they had come from. You watched, dumbfounded, as the doors unlatched and opened to allow flour, sugar, and yeast to return inside and slam closed once he was done.

“That’s one way to do it,” you laughed and began packing the rest of the custard buns into a small box, holding your hand out for Shion to take. He took it willingly, falling in step beside you and following you back to your dorm room. “Did you like the custard or was it too sweet?”

“Mm…” Shion watched as you kicked off your shoes and opened the door to your room. “It was good. I preferred the fruit more.”

“I’m guessing you like natural sweets, then,” you guessed, opening the box. They were now pleasantly warm and not too hot for you, unlike Shion, so you took a bite and nodded in satisfaction. They tasted just like your memories, if not a little sweeter but you didn’t mind it. It wasn’t going to be a perfect imitation, after all. You finished your bun and closed the box so no more heat would escape and laid on your bed, careful not to allow Shion’s human body to flop to the side in his sling. You’d almost forgotten it was there, you’d been so occupied with him for the day, and you wondered how he felt about it.

“It’s an irritant,” he answered, following your thoughts. He joined you and snuggled up to your free side, your arm instinctively coming up to lower your hand to his cheek. Shion slung one arm across your stomach, just under the sling, and pulled you closer, intent on getting comfortable even at your expense. “That body keeps you prisoner to it, and I am not even within it—just linked to it.”

“You’re not in it?” You repeated, turning your head to look at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Those Sukuna cultists ruined the ritual,” he replied nonchalantly. “Not that these people here know that. So you don’t have to hold it all the time; there are no repercussions unlike if they had actually completed it properly.”

“So…” You allowed a hand to come up and touch his human form delicately. “I could let your body lay next to me and I wouldn’t have to worry?”

“No.”

So you unhooked the sling from your shoulders, free of the weight for the first time in years, and held your breath as his human body rested next to you. Shion reached over you and tugged a blanket up and over you, his human body, and himself, finally comfortable.

“I wonder…” You stroked Shion’s cheek in thought, staring up at the ceiling while he drifted off, that interesting purr kicking up against your side. “Hmm.”

With a cursory glance at his human body, still deathly still as it always was, you turned your back to it and snuggled up to Shion, nudging your head under his chin and settling in for a nap.

Like all the times you had slept with him near, you felt, of course, at peace.

headcanons:

shion and the reader are very close--and i mean very, very close, to the point where they freely share affection and (as indicated) their food. they are also very comfortable with each other as well, more than with anyone else in their lives.

shion’s natural curiosity extends to the reader and only the reader. so anything she does, he will most likely either a) want to participate or b) ask her about what she’s doing and if she likes it or not.

shion actually has a very bad habit of listening in on the reader’s thoughts and feelings even if she isn’t aware of it, which usually gives him a head’s up on her emotional state. while the reader doesn’t listen to his out of respect, she sometimes takes a peek, unaware that he does notice when she does.

shion’s purring comes from the fact that he does have a dragonic form. he does this when he’s at ease, or happy, both of which are shown in this drabble. it translates into his human form through an extra set of vocal chords.

the reader is shion’s favorite anything, and as such, he’s protective of her—perhaps too protective. shion is still a malevolent god and he still has those tendencies to become violent, and while he will never become violent with the reader (he doesn’t have the heart to even shout at her) that does not go for anyone else who is in her general vicinity.

shion has a little habit where he’ll instinctively want to be touching the reader, almost like a particularly clingy cat. sometimes he won’t, but most of the time he most absolutely will.

because of his origins as a formless god, he’s touch starved, which might not mean much because he’s a god, right? he had no affection from his mother and father, izanami and izanagi, so he knows nothing about love and affection, so when he gets it from the reader, he feels like he belongs, and thus, has no qualms about doing whatever is necessary to keep her safe.

shion doesn’t actually understand the emotions he feels. like referenced in the chapters, his emotional understanding is around that of a toddler’s—he knows what it is, can feel it, but he doesn’t understand the deeper meaning to them. he just knows they are there and acknowledges that they are caused by the reader. his logical understanding, however, is that of a god’s, and so he makes logical equations of his emotions instead, which can be quite the double edged sword.

shion is an intj-t.

shion can’t really taste anything synthetic, so he was lying when he said the custard was good so he wouldn’t hurt the reader’s feelings. :’)

that gif at the top perfectly represents shion’s reaction to being offered an apple slice. 

requests are: open. 

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (50) Celebrating

Here we go! The last chapter! And it’s a doozy! 

I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I grew up calling all of my parents friend’s ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’. Some of them I still do. Which was really fun when I dated a family friend and kept calling his mom ‘Aunt Julie’. We are not related. Fun times!

Also, there’s some nicknames in this chapter. “Peepums” is Tom. “Nonnie Cheng” is Sabine. And “Nonna Gina” is Tom’s mom. You know how grandparents all have their weird nicknames. 

Ao3 | FF.net

20 years later

—

When Marinette awoke that morning, she was alone in bed. It wasn’t that odd. Adrien had always been an early riser, but this was a different reason than just that. 

But she didn’t worry. It was best just to leave things the way they were. 

Dressing in a robe, she went downstairs to start making breakfast. The kids were old enough to get ready on their own now, and as long as they were down before 7, she didn’t bug them. 

The first into the kitchen was the youngest, Emma. A complete girly-girl and lover of all things pink and fashionable. Even at 12, she had her own sophisticated sense of style (party cultivated by her grandfather). She danced in her pink dress and adorable white flats. “What do you think, mama? Perfect for career day? Do I look like a professional?” 

“Of course you do, sweetheart.” 

She beamed. “Where’s papa?” 

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure. He couldn’t sleep last night, so he went for patrol. He hasn’t been back yet.” 

Emma frowned hard. “He’ll be there for career day though, right?” 

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world! But Peepums and Grandfather Gabriel are going to be there too.” 

“Is Peepums bringing treats?” 

“I would assume so. He never passes up a chance to bring snacks. Now, I’m making crepes, you want one or two?” 

“Just one, mama.” 

“Alright.” 

The next down the stairs was the oldest (by two minutes) Hugo. “Morning mama,” he smiled brightly. 

“There’s my birthday boy! Feel any older?” 

“No, but I feel wiser!” He joked, as he jumped on the stool by the counter. 

“Where’s Louis?” 

“Stuck in the toilet.” 

“And you mean that figuratively, right?”

He shrugged. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Crepes, blueberry, your favorite.” 

“Yes! I want five!” 

“You can have three, I don’t want you to get a tummy ache before school.” 

“Lame! Bring on the crepes!” He pounded his fists on the counter. 

“Three, and then if you aren’t stuffed, I’ll consider more.” 

Then came the unmistakable sound of a body slowly falling down the stairs, before a dark haired teen crawled across the floor and collapsed next to his mother’s legs. 

“Ah, Birthday boy part 2. Welcome to the land of the living!” 

“It should be a crime to have to wake up early on your birthday.” Said the boy, face flat against the ground.

“You truly are my child,” said Marinette with a smile. 

“Where’s pops?” Asked Hugo, digging into his second crepe. 

“Out on patrol.” 

This caused Louis to stir and look up. “Did something happen?”

“No, he just couldn’t sleep.” 

Hugo frowned. “Nightmares again? He’s been having those a lot lately.” 

“Yeah. I’m not sure why he’s having them. But you kids don’t need to worry about it.” 

“Are we still okay for our party tomorrow?” 

“Of course!” Marinette beamed. “Even if papa wasn’t feeling great, we’d still have it! Aunt Chloe reserved the rooftop pool for you, after all.”

“…I’m so excited,” said the child on the floor, with no enthusiasm. “You just can’t tell right now.”

“Well, you’re not going to get any rest on the floor. Sit in your seat and eat your crepe. I’ll make a little coffee.” 

“…yay…” 

—

Emma bounced nervously in her seat. She was flanked by Tom and Gabriel, who had both already presented for career day. 

The day was almost over, and her father hadn’t shown. 

“It’s okay, my little cupcake.” Tom assured, petting her blonde hair. “He’ll be here.” 

“And if he doesn’t make it,” added Gabriel, “It wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He’s probably out there stopping a criminal, saving lives. I know you’re the most important thing in the world to him.” 

Emma nodded, believing both of her grandfathers, but also not wanting to be one without a dad on career day. 

Through the years, Emma had gotten used to her father’s unpredictable behavior. He loved her to the end of the world and back, and would move mountains for her if he could. And most days, it really really showed. 

But some days, he just wasn’t…there. Emotionally, spiritually, or like today, physically. Her mother had similar episodes, but mostly in mood swings. She got angry sometimes, seemingly over nothing. Never directed at Emma or her brothers, thankfully, but Emma knew that there was something different about her parents. 

She knew the story. She had been told pieces of it growing up, but never allowed to watch the footage. Mama and Papa had been kidnapped and tortured, because they were superheroes, and they were never the same after. The details were vague, and she was told it would be too scary for her to handle every time she asked. But she saw the scars, heard her father’s screams at night. 

Most days, she didn’t want to know.

“Alright! I think that’s everyone!” Miss Bustier called. “Thank you all for participating in our career day! It’s awesome that we have such a wide range of jobs just in this very room!” 

Emma deflated. Her father really wasn’t coming. 

Tom laid a giant hand on her head and rubbed. 

But then, there was a knock at the window. 

“Chat Noir?” Miss Bustier asked. 

The man in black waved as she opened the window. 

“So so sorry I’m late!” He apologized, hopping into the room. “I caught a robber, and I walked him down to the police station and we had to do all this paperwork—“ 

“Papa!” Emma shouted, leaping over her desk. She ran to him, and threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. “You made it!”

“Just in time it seems,” he laughed, hugging her back. “I’m sorry I’m late. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course! Come on, it’s your turn to present!” She took his hand and led him up to the front of the room. “Everyone, this is my dad, Chat Noir! He’s a superhero!” 

—

The next day was Saturday, and Marinette was full of stress up to her neck. She paced poolside, as her family helped set up for the party. 

“Alright, Nino’s on music, Alya’s on Emma duty, Chloe covered catering, mom and dad have the cake, Gabriel and Emilie have decorations…what am I missing?”

“My Lady, you’ve gone over this list a hundred times. We’re fine.” 

“Drinks! I forgot the drinks!” 

Adrien pointed over at the bar. “Luka and Kagami are on drinks, remember? Luka’s making his mimosas for the adults.”

“Oh, right.” Then she pointed at him. “No alcohol, alright? Not with your medication.” 

“Oh come on, these are Luka’s mimosas! I’m gonna get krunk!” 

“Dad’s gonna get krunk?” Asked Hugo, from the pool. 

“No one is getting krunk!” Marinette poked Adrien in the chest. “Look what you started!” 

“I’m only teasing.” Adrien laughed, taking his wife’s hand. “Relax My Lady, it’s a party, a sweet 16 party! Everyone’s here to have fun. And they will as long as we relax.” 

Marinette got close, whispering conspiratorially, “that’s just the thing! Do you remember our sweet sixteen parties?” 

“Well...I didn’t have a party,” Adrien shrugged. “You, Alya, and Nino helped me escape the house and we went to the movies.” 

“Yeah, and they spent the whole time making out, so you and I just sat there awkwardly.” 

“I think I put my arm around you,” he grinned. “My very good friend.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“And your sixteenth...was that the year that Lila told everyone it was on a different day?” 

“And you were the only one who called to confirm it was on the original day, and so you were the only one that showed? Yep, that’s the one. I cried on you for 15 minutes when I realized no one else was coming.” 

“I mean, yeah, that sucked, but we still had fun with your family.” 

“My point is, this is Hugo and Louis’ sixteenth birthday. I want them to have a good one, to have what we couldn’t have.” 

“You have their gifts in your purse, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Their friends and family are coming, everything looks good, so just relax.” 

Marinette took a deep sigh. “You’re right, my love. Whatever happens, happens, and we’ve done all we can.” 

“The party will be fine, Mom.” Said Louis from a lounge chair. 

“Ah! Louis? Why aren’t you in the pool?” 

“I’m perfectly content just relaxing here. I’ll get hot soon enough and go in the pool.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Adrien wrapped an arm around his wife. “Marinette, let him alone. He’s fine. You know he’s our introvert.” 

“Mama! Papa!” Emma called, running towards them from the hotel elevator. “Look at the swimsuit grandfather Gabriel got me!” She twirled, letting the shimmery, glittery greens, teals, and purples swirl in a kaleidoscope of color. “I look like a mermaid!” 

“You sure do, Princess!” Adrien beamed. 

Emma squealed in delight before running back to Alya. 

“See? All of our kids are enjoying themselves. The guests are slowly trickling in...” he gestured to the elevator where more classmates with gifts arrived. “And no catastrophes yet.” 

“Fine fine, Kitty, I get it. I’ll have a mimosa and lighten up.” 

“Have one for me too!” He called after, as she headed to the bar. 

Soon, the guests arrived. Hugo and Louis had invited their entire class of 18 kids. Some parents stayed to help with chaperoning, and some even brought younger siblings that were friends with Emma. 

It was turning out to be a real shin-dig. 

So far, Marinette felt at ease. The four parents that had stayed were mostly just hanging out at the bar, but the kids were in the pool, and no one was drowning. 

Louis still reclined on the lounger, sunning himself. 

“You're still doing okay over here, kiddo?” 

“Mom, I’m doing so okay. So okay, it’s ridiculous. Nonna Gina brought me over a virgin mimosa, cause everyone’s talking about them. I feel like I’m on vacation.” 

“As long as you’re content, I’m happy. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling left out.” 

“Nah,” he waved her off. “I will go swimming, but I’m going to wait until after eating.” 

“Okay, kiddo.” 

Seeing Hugo happily enthralled in a cannonball contest, and Louis sunning himself like a cat, she decided to check in with her youngest. Though she saw Alya at the bar talking to Kagami, and Emma nowhere in sight. 

This used to make her panic immediately. None of her kids were especially hyper or rambunctious. They didn’t run off on their own, especially without letting her know. 

But there was still a fear, still a niggling doubt in the back of her head that said ‘what if’? 

As calm as possible, she approached the adults at the bar, and asked Alya. “Have you seen Emma?”

“She ran down to the lobby to use the bathroom,” Alya answered casually. 

“Alone?”

“Yeah, Marinette, she’s 12. She can handle going to the bathroom alone.” It was a reassurance, no judgement. Because sometimes, Adrien and Marinette needed a reminder that their children were well adjusted and had plenty of common sense.

Marinette knew that. And it wasn’t the bathroom part she was concerned about. It was the trip down to the lobby by herself. 

She heard a father speak softly, “for superheroes, they are certainly overprotective of their kids. Kind of feel sorry for them.” 

Marinette nodded at Alya, and retreated sheepishly. Was her paranoia ruining her children’s lives? 

“What’s with that look, My Lady?” Adrien asked, softly, sipping on his drink. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just…overheard something I shouldn’t dwell on.” She looked at the drink in his hands, narrowing her eyes. 

“It’s virgin!” He handed it to her. “I promised I was going to quit. Getting plastered at our kid’s birthday would be the worst time for them to find out I have a problem.” 

“It’s not a problem yet, but that’s why I want you to stop. So it doesn’t become one.”

“Hey! Let go Isaac!” Louis’ voice carried over the water. Instantly, Marinette and Adrien were alert and looked to see a larger boy pulling Louis toward the pool by the arm. 

“Hey!” Marinette called out. “Let him go! If he doesn’t want to go swimming, don’t force him!” 

“Oh come on, Lady!” The father from the bar shouted over to her. “What’s the point in having a pool party for your boys if they aren’t even going to go swimming!?”

SPLASH

Louis surfaced with a gasp, and then a defeated “aw man!” 

“Are you okay kiddo?” Marinette asked. “You didn’t have your phone on you, right?”

“No, I’m fine.” He took off his soaked shirt and dropped it on the edge of the pool with a loud plop. “Just…didn’t want to get wet yet.” 

“Dude, come on Isaac, don’t be such a turd!” Hugo chastised. 

“He looked lonely!” Isaac argued. 

“Whatever,” Louis said, defeated. “Just…don’t dunk me, okay?” 

“No promises!”

Adrien frowned at the exchange as Louis swam over closer to his brother. “Isaac, Isaac, why is that name familiar? Is that the kid that’s been picking on Louis? Why is he here?” 

“Oh,” Marinette smacked her head. “That’s what they were asking about!” 

“What? Who?” 

“A few weeks ago, the boys were asking me questions about what to do about a classmate people don’t get along with. They asked if they should include them in the party if they were inviting the rest of the class. I told them that would be the right thing to do, but I didn’t realize they were talking about Louis’ bully!” She groaned. “And it looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She glared at Isaac’s dad at the bar. 

Adrien smiled over at the pool. Both Hugo and Louis were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. It seemed Louis was already over his impromptu dunking. “Our kids are resilient. It’ll take more than that to bring them down.” 

“They are strong.” Marinette breathed. “Stronger than me.” 

It was then that Emma returned. “Hi mama, I’m back. Aunt Alya said I should check in with you because you were worried? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.” 

Marinette smiled at her. “It’s fine Emma. You told Aunt Alya, so someone knew. You just know I’m a basket case.” 

Emma frowned at her mom. “You’re not a basket case. You’re just...worried?” 

“Does that bother you? Do I make you feel trapped or smothered?” 

Adrien stared at his wife in horror. Likewise, so did Emma. “No! Not at all!” She hugged her around the waist and added, “Nonnie Cheng worries about where I am too. She says it’s because you went missing, and it’s scared her ever since. I don’t want to scare you, mom.” 

Marinette hugged Emma tightly and said, “I have the best kids in the world.” 

“In that case,” Emma grinned. “Can I have some soda?” 

“Sure, just tell Aunt Kagami what you want.”

“Thanks mom!” She beamed and scurried off. 

“And no running!” Marinette called after. “Girl’s got my clumsy streak. She’ll break her neck.” 

“Crisis averted it seems.” Said Adrien. 

“For now,” Marinette narrowed her eyes. “But Ladybug never rests!” 

Adrien pecked his wife on the lips. “Someone has to be responsible.” 

“Hey pops!” Hugo called from the pool. 

“What’s up?” 

“We’re going to do a diving contest! You should join!” 

“Yeah!” 

“Come on Mr. Dupain-Cheng!” 

“Show us some Chat Noir style!” 

Marinette nudged him. “Go ahead. Show those kids how it’s done.” 

He smirked. “Okay okay.” He took off his shirt and laid it on the lounger by their bags. Then he entered the pool from the shallow end, coming up behind the kids. “How does this diving contest work?” 

“It’s easy!” Said Hugo, “we’re going to take turns coming up with unique ways to jump in the pool. Winner is the best technique, or most creative.”

“I got one!” Said a chubby kid. He climbed out of the pool and up on the diving board. 

“Make room!” Someone called. “Cannon ball champion on the loose!” 

“This is called ‘The Patrick Star’!” He bounced twice, getting real air before leaping out, parallel with the water, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. 

And he collided with the water with a resounding clap, making everyone go, ‘ooo!’ 

The kid surfaced, his entire frontside pink. “Ow.” 

The rest of the class laughed at him. 

One by one, classmates would come up with a dive, though most were a lot more elegant than the first. 

“I call this, ‘The Ladybug’.” A girl said. She ran and jumped, twisting in the air while throwing her arm, mimicking Ladybug’s yo-yo. She managed to say “bug out!” Before she hit the water. Marinette whistled. “She’s got my vote!” 

“Come on, Pops,” said Hugo. “It’s your turn!” 

“I don’t have a—“ 

“Just make something up! Go go!” 

Adrien pulled himself out of the pool and headed toward the diving board, aware of the people watching, curious. 

This was his twin boys’ special day. He had to be impressive. He had to be the cool dad. 

He took a running start, falling into a front flip as he hit the diving board. His adult weight bowed the board with force, sending him up into the air. He curled tightly into a ball, using the momentum to rotate three times, before coming out of the ball and diving seamlessly into the water. 

When he surfaced, the crowd of kids were going wild. They screamed and chanted “Dad! Dad! Dad!” 

Obviously started by his boys. 

Adrien beamed as he treaded water. Being Chat Noir was great, even with all the pain it had brought him. But being his kid’s hero was the absolute best. 

But everything came to a screeching halt as Isaac, the butthole kid, let out a loud, “EWWW!!” Grabbing everyone’s attention. “What’s wrong with your dad’s back!? It’s all gross!”

Adrien slammed his eyes shut, all at once feeling self-conscious. But this was just a dumb teenager. Maybe he didn’t know any better. But before he could gather himself to calmly explain his scars, his boys spoke up for him. 

“It’s scarring, you jerk,” said Louis. 

“He got it from being a superhero, when he was just two years older than we are!” Added Hugo. 

Isaac scoffed, “Chat Noir and Ladybug aren’t real superheroes! Not like the ones in America! All they do is rescue cats from trees and show up for charity events. They don’t even do anything anymore!”

Adrien sloppily backtracked, reaching out for the edge of the pool. 

“Just yesterday, he caught a robber! That’s not nothing!” Hugo defended. 

“Oh yeah?” Said Isaac, “My dad said that they used to fight supervillains, but they couldn’t stop the guy responsible for them! He said they’re losers and failures!” 

“Hey Jean,” said one of the parents. “Tell your kid to shut up.” 

Isaac’s father took a chug from his beer and shrugged. “Someone had to say it.” 

“Monsieur,” said Ladybug with god-like patience. “I suggest you and your son leave. I don’t feel the need to play host to someone who could be so hateful and misinformed.” 

“Misinformed?” The man, Jean, scoffed. “I was there. I saw the stream back then. I remember what it was like. The weekly akumas, classes and events always cancelled. The only reason they stopped is because Hawkmoth gave up. I don’t think you guys should be getting recognition anymore. Sorry, not sorry.” 

“Mom?” Louis called from the pool.

Jean frowned, continuing. “The rest of us have to make a living working hard, every day. You and your husband just put on some skin tight leather and prance around. Now you’re set for life. It’s disgusting.” 

“Hey man, if you don’t like it, you can leave,” said Alya. “No one invited you. I heard your son was only invited out of obligation.” 

“Mom!” Louis called again. 

“Marinette and Adrien suffered enough for a lifetime. Every day is a struggle! How dare you say otherwise!” 

“MOM!” Louis screamed. 

Marinette whipped her head over to the pool, seeing Adrien struggling to keep his head above water. Louis and Hugo were holding him up. She hurried over. “What happened? What’s wrong?” 

“He’s having an attack!” 

Tom rushed over, reaching his hands under Adrien’s arms, and pulled him out of the pool. He tried to set him on his feet, but he kept leaning forward, trying to lay down. His eyes were wide, but unfocused, as his breaths came rapidly. 

Marinette tugged on his arm. “Come on, Kitty. Not here.” She called over to Chloe. “Is there a room we can borrow for a second?”

“Follow me!” 

Louis broke off from the group, but Hugo and Marinette were quick to escort Adrien away from the party. 

“Mom?” Emma asked, right as they were about to get on the elevator. 

“It’s okay, Honey. Dad just needs a minute. Stay behind with Aunt Alya, okay?”

Emma nodded, though didn’t look convinced. 

Chloe showed them to her room, where she quickly got a towel for Adrien to wrap up in. 

Hugo and Marinette eased him down to sit on the couch. There, he slumped, his head resting on the back of the couch. 

Louis found their room, cup in hand. “I brought a coke. I know that usually helps.” 

Marinette sighed in relief. “Thank you baby,” she took the cup from him and put it in Adrien’s hand, then helped him take a sip. 

They sat for a while, watching Adrien breathe slowly and take occasional sips from his drink.

“I’m so sorry boys,” Marinette looked to them sadly. “We didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

Hugo frowned at her. “What? You guys didn’t ruin anything. Isaac’s the one that pooped on our party.”

“Yeah,” added Louis, “and we were having a great time up until now. Don’t worry about it mom.” 

Adrien very shakily brought the cup towards his face, and Marinette was quick to help, so he didn’t spill. “Dad’s going to be fine,” she explained. “Why don’t you boys get back to the party?” 

“If it’s okay, I’d like to wait until dad feels a little better. I’d feel guilty if I left,” said Louis.

“Me too,” said Hugo. “And I need a few minutes to calm down to keep from punching Isaac in the face. What he said was dumb. He has no idea what you guys do.” 

“…it shouldn’t have bothered me…” Adrien said, softly. 

“Dad?” 

“I’m okay,” he took a deep exhale. “Just…lost myself for a moment.” 

Hugo hugged him tightly around the shoulders. “Love you, dad. Don’t worry about it.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you boys…and your friends. But I’ll be alright now.” 

“You recovered pretty quickly,” Marinette noted. 

“It’s because I have my big strong boys with me.” He wrapped his arms around his sons. “There was nothing to worry about.” 

Except, there was. 

Alya burst into the room, Chloe behind her, with a look of panic. 

“Marinette, come quickly!” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Emma! She’s been akumatized!!” 

—

As Emma watched her father be rushed out of the party, a stone fell into her gut. No matter how often this happened, no matter how good they got at catching the attacks, it still scared her when it happened. 

She was torn between wanting to be with him, and not wanting to see that vacant expression on his face. Her mother said it was a coping mechanism he developed a long time ago, when they had been kidnapped. He just switched his brain off when he got overwhelmed, as to not experience pain. It only happened a few times a year, only in super stressful situations where he thought about his torture. 

Emma wiped at her face as she looked over the party. Alya was chastising the adult man that had talked bad about her father, and Hugo and Louis’ friends were ripping into the kid that started the whole mess. 

Everyone was angry and yelling. 

“Emma?” Gabriel asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright, dear?” 

“Oh, Grandfather…” She sniffed. “I’m just…scared.” 

“Your father will be alright. It’s nothing physical, it’s just a mental state.” 

“I know…” She screwed up her lips. “But I’m scared people are going to keep saying that stuff to him. Mom acts like I’m too young to understand what’s happening…but people are forgetting that they are real superheroes, and they act like they’re mascots. I’m scared this is going to happen again.” She rubbed at her damp eyes. “He doesn’t deserve it. Neither of them do.” 

“You really love your parents, don’t you?” 

“Of course! They’re the best!”

“Then, I have a plan. Would you be willing to help?”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Come with me, we’ll speak in private.” 

Curious, Emma followed Gabriel into the hotel, down to a conference room. He locked the door behind them. 

“You remember our little secret?” 

“That I know you were Hawkmoth?” 

“Yes. My plan requires me to come out of retirement, just this once…and to akumatize you.” 

She looked startled. “You want to turn me into a supervillain?”

“Only if you agree to it, dear.” He pet her hair. “My goal is to make you a supervillain, so you can terrorize Paris and remind them of what Ladybug and Chat Noir used to do. I’ll be able to see through your eyes, so I can stop and undo any damage if something goes wrong.” 

Emma crossed her arms. “You’d make mom and dad fight me?”

“Not fight you, rescue you.”

She frowned again, thinking about it. Then she nodded. “Let’s do it!” 

Gabriel smiled at her, and opened his sports jacket, where Nooroo was hiding. “Nooroo, Dark Wings rise!” 

In a flash of purple light, Hawkmoth had returned. Inside his cane, a little white butterfly fluttered. 

Emma danced on her toes. “What kind of powers are you going to give me? I want to be pretty!” 

He chuckled at her eagerness. “Of course, my sweet Emma.” He evilized the butterfly, and then coaxed it into the paw print bracelet she was wearing. 

A purple mask appeared on her face.

“Mermaidia, I’m giving you the power of the seas. You may travel through any body of water, and turn those that oppose you into sea creatures. In exchange, you must give Chat Noir and Ladybug a taste of nostalgia. Do you accept these terms?” 

“Absolutely, Hawkmoth.” 

The dark purple fog encompassed Emma, turning the sweet blonde girl into a real mermaid, with purple hair, shimmering scales, and an abundance of glittering gold and jewels. In her hand, she held a trident. 

Hawkmoth took a bottle of water from the table, and poured it on the floor. 

Mermaidia stepped into the puddle, and disappeared. 

—

“Regardless if you feel like you’re right, it’s still your opinion. And an opinion doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole, especially to people who are hosting this party!” Shouted Alya. 

The rest of the parents were quietly watching the exchange, not really wanting to get involved. But they were also paying attention to a similar argument in the pool. 

“You are a grown adult and a parent. It’s your job to teach your kid respect and kindness, two qualities I haven’t seen from him today.” 

“Look lady, I know you’re friends with the Dupain-Cheng’s and all, but come on. It doesn’t bother you that they don’t work at all? What’s the point of them calling themselves superheroes anyway? They should just hang up the suits and get real jobs.” 

“They. Can’t.” Alya emphasized. “Did you not just see what happened to Adrien? What if he was working and he had an attack? What then, smart guy?”

“He won’t have attacks if he was doing something with his life!” 

“They are full time parents, and full time heroes! They do more than just ‘rescue cats and make celebrity appearances at charity events’! How can you be so ignorant?!”

“What did you call me!?” 

Screams came from the pool, and the argument halted. 

Mermaidia had made her appearance. 

“I am Mermaidia! You all have grown too soft and comfortable! I’m here to remind you what it was like back when there were akuma!” She laughed, pointed her trident, and turned a child into a fish. 

The party descended into madness, as Mermaidia shot rapidly. None of the teens in the pool escaped, and all turned into various fish and sea creatures. 

Isaac turned into a starfish, and Emma stuck him to her arm. “You’re coming with me. I want you to see how wrong you were.” 

Several adults had tried to escape as well, but Mermaidia stopped them in their run. 

Only those who knew the identity of Hawkmoth, or were previous Miraculous users didn’t panic. Rather, they stood staring, confused. Alya backed away carefully, and escaped into the hotel. Whether Emma purposely let her go or not, she would never know.

“Emma?” Asked Sabine. 

“I’m not Emma anymore, I’m Mermaidia!” She turned Isaac’s father into another starfish, and stuck him on her other arm. “You mocked my parents, but now, they’re the only ones that can save you! Ahahaha!” 

“Emma, stop.” Tom demanded. “You’re a good girl. We can’t let what people say get to us. People will always have their opinions that we disagree with, but we can’t take it personally.” 

“But I can take this personally!” She shouted back. “My father is the greatest man alive, and no one will doubt that when I’m through! Just you see!” 

She turned the rest of the assembled party goers into creatures, before leaping into the pool and disappearing.

—

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Alya, Chloe, Louis, and Hugo all returned to the party, only to find a bunch of fish. 

“What the…?” 

“She’s called Mermaidia,” Alya clarified. “She’s turned everyone into sea creatures. She appeared from the water, so I think she can transport through liquid.”

“She totally can, dude,” said a sea turtle from the pool. 

“Nino?” Asked Chat Noir. 

“Cha dude, what do you think? Pretty fitting for me, huh?” 

“Are you okay?”

“Totally. All the little dudes are too.” He gestured to the fish in the pool. 

“Emma turned the kid and his dad who started the argument into starfish.” Said a sea-snake. “They’re on her arms. So be careful when you attack.”

“Luka?”

“Yep.”  

“Where’s my mom and dad?” 

“Over here!” Called a walrus. There was a crab next to him, waving a claw. “We’re fine, honey. Just save Emma!” 

“Next question,” Said Ladybug, wielding her yo-yo angrily. “Where’s Gabriel?”

Chat Noir rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s focus on saving Emma, and then we’ll find him.” 

She sighed. “You’re right, as always, kitty. However, I think we might need some help with this akuma.” She opened her yo-yo and reached inside, pulling out two octagonal boxes. Then she turned to Hugo and Louis. “I hoped to give you your presents later, and hoped you wouldn’t ever have to use them. But desperate times come desperate measures.” 

Hugo and Louis smiled at each other, with excitement. 

“Louis, my wise, observant, and cunning child, this is the Miraculous of the Snake. With it, you can turn back time an infinite amount of times in a five minute duration. You will use it for the greater good.”

“Sweet.” 

“And Hugo, my brave, bold, and exuberant child, this is the Miraculous of the Turtle. With it, you can create an impenetrable shield. You will use it for the greater good.”

“Yes!” 

“Louis, to transform, simply say ’Sass, Scales Slither.’ And Hugo, your phrase is ‘Wayzz, Shell On’.”

“Sass, Scales Slither!”

“Wayzz, Shell On!” 

A flash of green and teal, and the boys were turned into superheroes. They high fived each other. 

“The Reptile Boyz are back in town!” Hugo cheered. 

“Really? ‘Boyz’ with a ‘Z’?” Chat Noir asked flatly.

“It’s cool, old man!” Said Louis. 

“Alright team, let’s focus,” Ladybug said, a bit too fondly for the situation at hand. She took out her yo-yo, and looked for intel. There was a special report live from Nadja Chamack. 

“—Mermaidia is the first Akuma in 20 years! It was thought that Hawkmoth had retired, but it seems he has one ace left up his sleeve. The akuma was last spotted at the Luxembourg park! Hopefully, Ladybug and Chat Noir are on their way! Again, this is a real akuma, so it is advised to stay indoors and away from water!” 

“She’s at the park! Let’s go!” 

—

This wasn’t nearly as scary as Emma thought it would be. In fact, she was having a lot of fun. Hawkmoth did advise her that she would be influenced by her anger, but that really didn’t seem to bother her. It was really fun to turn people into sea creatures. 

Though, she did feel really guilty when she hit people that were crying in fear. 

But that’s what her parents were here for! To undo all this! It was fine! 

“I am Mermaidia! And Ladybug and Chat Noir are your only chance for salvation!” 

“Now now Emma,” Chat Noir spoke from behind. “Go easy on us. We’re a little wet behind the ears.” 

Emma had to stomp down the urge to run and hug her father, and instead declared. “There you are, Ladybug and Chat Noir! Ready to do battle?” 

Ladybug simply crossed her arms. “If you don’t give up your akuma, you’re grounded.” 

Mermaidia stomped her foot. “You can’t ground me if you can’t catch me!” And she leapt into the fountain. 

“She’s escaping!” Cried Hugo. 

“Quick, fan out! Look for sources of water, and call as soon as you get sight of her!” 

—

This was not Hugo or Louis’ first time using a Miraculous. Every once in a while, Marinette and Adrien would allow the children to pick one out to try, and then they’d have a family game of tag out on the Paris rooftops. The rules were to stay safe, and to not allow the media to take pictures. And at the first sign of danger, they were supposed to go home and let Mom and Dad handle it. 

So the boys were familiar with their powers, but boy, they were not ready for the anxiety of an Akuma attack. 

They may have been older, but Emma was still the reigning champion of tag. 

“Find anything?” Louis asked, crossing his brother. 

“Not a scale,” said Hugo. “Have you activated your Second Chance yet?” 

“No, but I will the second we find her. Then if she escapes, we can just reverse time.” 

“Smart.” Then, Hugo’s eyes caught on something in the river. “Huh?”

“What?”

“How often do you think whales go down the Seine?” 

“Uh…never?” 

“There she is! She’s on top of it!” Hugo activated his distress beacon on his shield, making sure to keep up with Emma, but also stay out of sight. 

“We have to play this carefully. She can literally jump into the water and disappear at any second.” 

“Not if there’s no water to disappear into,” said Chat Noir, appearing from nowhere. 

Hugo resisted a scream. “D-Chat! You’re too sneaky!”

“I’ve been doing this a while, kiddo. Ladybug’s not here yet?” 

“No, what’s the plan?”

“I have half a plan…”

“Then it’s a good thing I have half of one too!” Said Ladybug, finally joining them. “After you sent your signal, I called the French Waterway Commission and had them close the lock she’s on.” 

“What did what the what?” Hugo asked. 

“The river is made up of locks,” explained Louis, “chambers that fill and empty with water so boats can travel. The ground isn’t level, and the water level changes.” 

“So Ladybug basically had them dam up the section Emma’s on right now,” said Chat.

“But she can still travel through water, so once she reaches the dam, she’ll just abandon ship, er, whale.” Hugo observed. “So then what?”

“Then we put my plan into action,” Chat cracked his knuckles, and stealthily made his way to the river bank. 

Louis and Hugo watched in fascination as Chat called his Cataclysm and touched the water. In a boiling wave, it rolled quickly past Emma, evaporating as it went. It didn’t even have time to settle, just went up in a cloud of steam. 

The whale that Emma was on run ashore, and she came to a halt. “What?”

“Nowhere to run now, little girl!” Ladybug called. 

Mermaidia jumped from the back of the whale and landed in the sand. It wasn’t even damp. Chat had literally evaporated all the water in that section of the river. 

“Second Chance!” Louis activated his bracelet. And just in time too, as Mermaidia shot a beam at Ladybug, and turned her into a dolphin. “Second Chance!”   

Time restarted, and Louis shouted. “Ladybug, dive!” 

Ladybug dove out of the way, missing the three shots Mermaidia took. 

“I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re my mother!” Emma shouted. “So let’s show Paris what a real superhero looks like, hmm?” 

“Oh you are so grounded when this is over, little lady!” She dodged another blast, and called for her Lucky Charm. 

Hugo called for Shelter while she glanced around, looking for the purpose of the tennis racket her Miraculous had bestowed upon her.

Then it dawned on her. 

A grounding wasn’t enough for her naughty child. Oh no. This called for the big guns.

The second Hugo’s Shelter faded, she shot out her yo-yo, catching Emma around the arms, and yanked her to lay across her leg. Hugo and Louis peeled the captive starfish off, while Chat took the trident. All the while Mermaidia wriggled around, fighting against the yo-yo string. 

“No akuma in the trident, my lady.” Chat Noir shrugged. 

“Oh, I’ll get it out of her.” Ladybug raised the tennis racket. “Where’s the akuma at, Emma?” 

“This is cheating!” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” And Ladybug brought the tennis racket down on her bottom, once, twice, three times before Emma cried out. “Okay okay! It’s in my bracelet! Stop! Stop!”

Chat broke the bracelet, freeing the butterfly, as Ladybug set her crying daughter down in the sand. 

She caught and purified the butterfly, and removed everyone from the bank of the river before casting her cure. 

Emma Dupain-Cheng returned, pouting, and still rubbing her behind. “I was just trying to help…” 

“Where’s your Grandfather?” 

“He’s in a conference room at the hotel. But don’t be mad at him, please…” 

Before Ladybug could yell more, Isaac and his father approached her. “Uh, Ladybug?” 

“Yes?”

“Look, I wanted to—we wanted to apologize. Thank you for rescuing us, and I’m sorry. I guess I had forgotten what it was like having akumas around. You still stopped Hawkmoth, right? Well…until today…” 

“Hawkmoth is a friend of ours now,” Ladybug clarified. “He’s paid for his crimes, but today has shown that he hasn’t quite learned the right way to deal with problems. I believe he was well intentioned, but we will be having words.” 

Isaac’s father nudged his son. “You want to say anything?” 

Isaac shyly looked at the family and admitted, “thank you for inviting to the party. No one invites me to things.” 

“Yeah, well, work on your boundary issues, and maybe it’ll happen more often,” said Louis. 

“If you guys want to head back to the hotel, I think there’s still time for cake!” Said Chat, with optimism. 

—

After the Miraculous cure restored the party, everyone gathered again and lunch was served. 

But, the Dupain-Chengs were in the conference room. Marinette and Adrien frowned at their youngest and Gabriel. 

“Now, son--” Gabriel began. 

“What were you thinking?” Adrien interrupted. 

“I was thinking that Paris needed a little reminder of all the hard work you guys did.” 

“Yeah, cool,” sniped Marinette. “Except now they think you’re out of retirement, and that’s a huge reminder that we didn’t stop you!” 

Gabriel took the brooch off. “Then here. Make it official. Tell them that this akuma was my swan-song and I made it to surrender.” 

Marinette took the brooch regardless, and put it in her bag. “I don’t know what I’ll say to the media. They’ll want to know who you are, and if you’re going to prison…and akumatizing your own granddaughter?” 

“I told him I was okay with it!” Said Emma. “I knew what I was getting into. It’s not that big of a deal!” 

“Not that big of a deal!?” 

There was a knock on the door, as Hugo and Louis peeked their heads in. “There you are, Grandfather!” 

“Hi boys,” he smiled at them, softly. 

The twins pushed passed their parents to stand in front of him, arms crossed, just like Marinette and Adrien. 

“What you did was terrible,” Said Louis. 

“So awful,” echoed Hugo. 

“You could have permanently hurt or traumatized people.” 

“Done thousands of dollars of property damage.” 

Gabriel sighed. “I know…I just—“ But he was cut off as the boys wrapped him up in a tight hug. “What?”

“Thanks for the coolest present ever!” 

“Yeah! Mom gave us our Miraculous, but the chance to use them on a real akuma!?” 

“Hey!” Shouted Emma. “I was the akuma! No thanks for me!?”

They gave her a noogie. “Thanks twerp.” 

“You’re a twerp!” 

Marinette and Gabriel met eyes. He gave a sheepish shrug. “I know I’m bad. But I deeply love my family.” 

She then gave up trying to be angry. “Alright fine. I admit it. It was fun to fight an akuma again. But it’s over now!” 

Adrien shook his head fondly. “Thanks for meddling dad.” 

“Your welcome, son.” 

“I want cake!” Hugo shouted. 

“Cake time!” 

“Yay cake!” 

“No cake for Emma. Only broccoli.” Marinette clarified. “You were naughty.” 

“Aw man!!” 

--

AND THAT’S THE END! 

Oh my word this story got AWAY from me! It was only supposed to be maybe 20 chapters when I first started on it? But here we are, a year and a half later, and over 200,000 words! I kinda can’t believe I’m done! 

Anyways, thank you all for sticking around through all the heartache. I appreciated every single review and like. And one parting question: What was your favorite part?