#side note but here i am assuming that it would be easy to find an irl pic of villalobes bc its an uncommon name. untrue. the devil laughs.

[tunastime]

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside. 

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table. 

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands. 

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet. 

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on  his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand. 

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times. 

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright. 

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns. 

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again. 

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up. 

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides. 

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him. 

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky. 

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face. 

“Doc?” he asks. 

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter. 

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room. 

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces. 

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

[starcrossedreaders]

HI! This is my very first time asking for a request, am so nervous! I was wondering if you could write a short story with Re4r Leon were he and his fem! reader are both married and have meet each other in raccoon city and are separated from Ashley and run into Ada in the room were you solve that tile puzzle in the game and she flirts with Leon and says the line “I might give you that greeting you were looking for. And it makes the reader feel like she is not good enough for Leon and remembering the shared kiss both him and Ada had back at raccoon city. You can add more too it if you would like.

This is so cute, nothing beats a jealous lover to comfort. Hopefully, you love reading this as much as I loved writing it, Enjoy!

Author's Note: This is so cute, nothing beats a jealous lover to comfort. Hopefully, you love reading this as much as I loved writing it, I could not find this scene for the life of me so hopefully you will Enjoy it!

Warnings: jealous reader, mentions of death, guns, injuries, some fighting, little bit of angst

"Ashley wait!" Your hand reached out for the girl before a door slammed down causing the ground to shake.

"Fuck," Your hand slaps down to your side as you turn around to look at your partner, Leon.

"It's okay, we'll find a way to get to her." He unholsters his gun as he roams around the room to find a way out.

You and Leon had been attached at the hips since the police academy. Have being the first ones in the room you two naturally sat next to each other striking up a conversation. The moment Leon had stuck his hand out to greet you the connection was instant. From there on you guys did everything together, from hand-to-hand combat training to study partners you guys naturally gravitated towards each other. Like the sun and moon, Bonnie and Clyde, or Adam and Eve. So when it came time to choose a department to work at naturally you both went for Raccoon Police Department. This is when your troubles began, and your relationship furthered. After almost losing you Leon knew he had to make you his. Life is too short to not take risks. His messy confession and rosy cheeks had quickly led you guys into your 5th year of dating.

Government training was punishing and pushed you guys to the brink of extinction. That never stopped you guys from going onward, always moving, never stopping to enjoy the beauties of life. Which is what led you guys here. Trying to save the president's daughter was no easy task, not when bio-weapons and the past came to haunt you guys.

"Over here!" Leon called out to you from afar. His voice led you through a small tunnel into a bigger room than the last. In the middle of the room stood a podium with various tiles. Further past that was a door with a huge empty piece where you assumed the tiles went.

"Another fucking puzzle seriously?" Walking towards the podium you gathered the tiles and walked to the door.

"I'm tired of this weird village's antics, these puzzles are annoying." Leon only snorted in agreement as he stood at your side focusing on the task at hand.

"That one goes there," His gloved hand pointed to space in the puzzle.

Lifting the rather heavy tile it clicked into place causing the door to groan a bit.

"That's something I guess," You guys continued on with the puzzle before you heard a loud clank above you.

Whipping your head up to the noise you examined the ceiling.

"Did you hear that?"

"I'll go check it out." Leon pulls out his gun to look around the room while you continue the puzzle.

A few moments later you heard a few muffled words and a groan before the clicking of heels filled the room.

Those god-forsaken heels. The heels belonged to someone who has been the point of many arguments between you and Leon. The heels were filled by a beautiful federal agent who had ruined your self-esteem. How could she be so beautiful at a time like this? You looked like you have been through hell and back, dried blood coated your hands as your tank top was ripped. When the one and only Ada Wong looked like a model.

Turning around you watched as your own husband walked into the room with his hands up on either side of his head and Ada right behind him with a gun pointed at his head.

"Ada what a pleasant surprise," You turned back around to put another tile in the slot. The door shook the ground as dust fell around you.

"And who's this Leon?"

"I don't do greetings Ada," You sang your words as you placed another tile in.

This door started to move up a little bit. The crack was big enough to fit your hand through.

"Well, I might give you the greeting you were looking for," Ada's voice dripped with sexual tension as she utters those words towards your OWN husband.

Leon was getting impatient, the gun pointed at his head made him antsy. His hand moved slightly before he grabbed her wrist to make her drop the gun. Ada's foot flew through the air aiming for Leon's neck before he twisted and grabbed it just in time. This fight went on like this for a few heartbeats before Leon pulled his knife out on her.

Pressing it against her neck his voice grew deeper as he spoke, "A bit of advice, use knifes next time, it's better for close encounters,"

Ada could only smile as he slowly pulled the knife away strapping it back in its rightful place.

"I'm surprised, you're better than the rookie I last saw," She paced the room as she spoke to Leon.

"Yea, well, people change Ada,"

"Do they now?"

Your back faced the pair as you tried to focus on the puzzle at hand, the last few pieces were tripping you up, or maybe it was the small voice eating away at you. 'He still loves Ada.' 'You're just a filler for what he can't have.' 'You are the second choice, don't think otherwise.' Sighing heavily you tried to not focus on the past, but the present. You have a daughter to save, you can't be wallowing in your own self-pity.

"Well, why don't we test that out," The clicking of her heels stopped as she stood in front of Leon.

All your mind could do was race and think back to the events of Raccoon City. That horrid train ride was the worst ride you have ever been on. Watching Ada press her lips onto Leon's made you want to scream but watching Leon kiss her back made you want to cry. Nothing was as painful as that. Trying to steady your breathing you thought back to the kiss that you and Leon shared at the altar. That is the kiss that matters the most. Not the lousy kiss that he and Ada shared on the train. It had to, you are his wife for crying out loud, not some sleazy federal agent that teases men and almost gets them killed whenever she's around.

"Can you shut up Ada, I'm trying to figure this damn puzzle out, not listen to you ramble nonsense," She could only click her tongue.

"You should really teach your partner some manners Leon," He could snort out a small laugh.

Whipping your body around you walked over to the pair, "No Ada, I think you should really learn how to not be a liability. Every time you show up on these missions you almost get Leon killed. So why don't you go back to your little agency and stick your nose in someone else's mission. AND MIND YOUR OWN GOD DAMN BUSINESS!"

You didn't really need to yell during the last part but there's something about her stupid beautiful face that made you even more upset.

Turning around you placed the last tile in place. The door groaned as the ground shook. A few heartbeats later the door was fully open. You pulled your gun out with your flashlight underneath as you walked toward the dark and dusty room ahead.

"Y/N Wait," Leon called out for you as he jogged to catch up to you. Ada only shook her head as she shot her grappling hook up into the ceiling. The line zipped her up till she was gone.

Twisting your body from either side to side checking for anything that could harm you guys. You were very content with finishing this mission in silence. Leon on the other head was dead set and determined on figuring out what was wrong.

"Y/N stop, please," His hand landed on your elbow in hopes to stop you. Yanking it out of his grasp you tried to move forward once again.

Leon soon stopped right in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N talk to me... what's wrong,"

Leon was always so attentive, "What was that back there?" His soft voice filled the dark room. Your arms slacked to either side of your body as your head dropped.

Small sniffles filled the room as your feelings hit you dead on. Leon's eyebrows furrowed as he heard your sniffles. "Hey, talk to me," His right hand reached up to cup your face and swipe your tears away.

You felt awful right now, you guys were on a mission to save the president's daughter, you should not be involving your own personal matters in your work life. Your shoulders moved up and down as a shiver ran down your body. Ada is not the woman he wants and loves but for some reason, it just doesn't feel that way when you see them together. The kiss during Raccoon City haunts you from the late hours of the night to the early hours of the morning. The rubber band he got you for your one-year anniversary sat heavily on your ring finger.

"I-it's just ugh- y'know what, forget it. We have more important matters at hand,"

"No. We're going to talk about it now, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong," His voice was stern as his grip tighten slightly.

"Fine! Everything about Ada makes my gut turn. I feel as if I'm not enough for you. Ada has everything I don't. I know we're married and that should mean something but- The kiss- it's just..." You ran out of breath as you revealed your hidden feelings to your husband.

Leon's grip lightened as he slowly dragged his hands down your arms to your wrists.

"Baby... You know she means nothing to me You are the one I want. You have everything she doesn't love. I married you because you have been there through everything, thick and thin. There is nothing and I mean nothing anyone can do or say that would tear me away from you. We're going to build the brightest future together, two kids, a white picket fence, maybe even a dog," Your slight laugh made Leon smile, a rare occurrence these's days, too bad you could barely see it.

Leon leaned his forehead against yours. "I love you, forever and always okay?" Leon pressed a chaste kiss against your chapped lips.

Leon could barely hear you as you whispered back to him, "Forever and always."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Night Moves 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, stealing, crime, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The music hazes and the lights blur. You’re not drunk, you never drink much on your night out, only pretending to sip the cocktails men buy you. No, you’re mindless from the man beneath you. Your walls clench around him and you let out a moan. 

You’re achy from how long he’s been inside you. Still, he hasn’t cum. He stopped fucking you a while ago. He just keeps you on his lap, thrusting ever now and again to make you twitch. As you think of it, he does it and you brace the table to keep from keeling over. 

The coloured lights flash in a strange pattern and he tickles your sides. He leans forward, his head next to yours as his sultry breath speckles across your skin. He reaches between your legs and flicks your cunt. 

“Last call, sweetheart,” he eases you off of him and you whimper.  

He slides you onto the seat next to him and you whimper as he tucks himself into his briefs. You grab your purse and he reaches to grip your wrist. You gulp and look him in the eyes. They’re as blue as the ocean. 

“I didn’t say we’re done,” he lifts a brow, “don’t make me chase you.” 

He lets go and sits back, zips up, and buckles his belt. His chest rises and falls and he peers around confidently. He’s so damn brazen. He was buried inside you for at least an hour, sitting there balls deep, and he can only smirk. 

“Come on,” he stands and snaps his fingers. 

You stand and sidle out from behind the table. He quickly catches up to you as you face the thinning dance floor and slings his arm around your back. He walks you between the drunken bodies. 

“Am I under arrest?” You ask. 

“That wouldn’t be much fun,” he grits as he strides on. 

You’re quiet. You won’t push it. You still have hope you won’t be headed down to the station. You can’t afford the fine to get out, even after all you took that night. They’d confiscate it anyway. 

“What’s a girl like you doing lifting wallets?” He asks as you pass through the front doors into the cool night air.  

You scoff as your heels clack on the pavement, “gotta eat.” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” he hums, “look at you,” he does just that, glancing over, “any man would hand over his salary just for a night with you.” 

You snicker sardonically, “hah, you men... you all assume it’s so easy for women. That any one of us can just get by on our looks. You think this hair is free, this lip gloss?” 

“Sweetheart, I’m not assuming, I’m telling you,” he keeps you walking. 

“Sure, whatever, “ you shake your head. “You’re right, I’m gonna change my ways, sir, and find me a rich old man and let him fuck me til his heart gives out. Maybe then, I’ll get a taste of his fortune.” 

He chuckles and stops you by the curb, just beside a dark blue sportscar, “where do you live?” 

“What?” 

“Where do you live?” he asks slower. 

You blink, “Oxbury.” 

“How many rooms?” 

“Huh?” 

“Answer the questions.” 

You huff and look away, “it’s a bachelor loft. Everything’s in the same room.” 

“How much do you pay?” He prompts. 

“What does that matter? Are you going to arrest me or can I go?” 

“Sure, you can go after you answer my questions,” he insists. 

This is surreal. Only minutes ago he was inside you. You were shameless sitting on his dick and now he’s interrogating you about where you live. 

“Two grand. It’s a rip off but nothing’s cheap around here.” 

He narrows his eyes, nodding as he pokes the tip of his tongue out. 

“I’ll give you double. Just for tonight.” 

“I’m a thief, not a prostitute,” you frown. 

“That’s not what I’m...” his cheek dimples and his lashes flick, “not just tonight. Tomorrow. I’ll find you a new place. Something nicer. Something with big windows.” 

You shake your head in confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“We’ll get you settled and when we come back here,” he steps closer and reaches around your neck to check the tag on your dress, “I’ll have you in Gucci.” 

You search his face as he steps back. He’s arrogant and certain. You’re not. You’ve been caught out and you can’t afford to say no. But what if you do? 

“Do I have a choice?” You voice your doubt. 

“Not really,” he exhales, “there’s two options; my place or the station.” 

You close your eyes and cringe. That’s about what you expected. You flutter your lashes open and wet your lips. 

“It wasn’t bad. We both know it wasn’t. I still got your cum on me,” he tugs at his belt, “and I’m backed up. You can’t leave me like this.” 

Your cheeks burn. As much as you want to say no, on principle, on what little pride you still have, he makes you tingle. You tried it with the wrong man but there’s something right about him too. You can’t remember the last time you orgasmed that wasn’t off something battery-powered. 

“How do I trust you?” 

“I could ask you the same,” he counters. “This isn’t trust, it’s convenient. You need money, you deserve money. Luxury. Girl like you, shit, whew, I’ll make sure you got everything those tricky hands could never steal. You just gotta keep me happy.” 

It still feels wrong. You’re still selling yourself. Yet, it isn’t exactly your worst option. Jail or sugar baby? It’s obvious but difficult nonetheless. 

“Do I have to say it out loud?” You ask. 

He grins, “well, I’d like to hear it. Come on, my ego needs it.” 

You arch your brow and cross your arms, “alright, I’ll do it. Deal.” 

[blazescompendium]

Blaze's Compendium Entry #8:Explaining the Origin of ShikiOuji

Note: This post was originally published in April 2024. However, since it is a complete research and dive into this monster, I figured out i could just repost it as a Compendium entry.

As always:

Warning: Faith and religion are important real life topics, that tackles the culture and way of life of millions of real life people. It is a cultural expression, and must be respected by all means. Here, we use a video-game ( some times) and other media series only to ignite the flame of learning about the matter, using its art when well depicted, but we do this with all due respect to the cultures we talk here, grounded by real life sources, cultures and people. And i mean this with respect. Hope you all enjoy.

I am sure that, if you played any Megaten game in the last 20 years or so, you ended up seeing this paper dude. His name is always stated as Shiki-Ouji, and he once shared the same design with the Demon called Shikigami.

The weird thing is that when researching Shikigami on my studies, I never found anything about this one so i put some detective work to find out about the origins of Shikiouji, the (yet another) dude who often repels physical damage in Megaten.

The creature is described in many of the series compendium as a powerful Shikigami, that only the most powerful Onmyoji could summon, and they have a vicious temperament.

When we talk about Shikigami, the first thing that comes to mind are paper dolls. This is no surprise, since Shikigami are summons Onmyoji binds to paper dolls or talismans, so they could interact with the physical world. This is also because paper is a very easy material to destroy, if things go south. Onmyoji are the equivalent of western sorcerer, that followed the Onmyōdō, a esoteric cosmology. It started in the 6th century in Japan as a divination practice, and evolved from there. I won't go into detail, because this is meant to be a short post. But materials about this practice are abundant on the internet.

The main concept concerning us here is the Shikigami. These are basically some kind of familiar, a spirit or demon if you want, the sorcerer could conjure to protect him or do his biding. The Cultural Alliance Brazil- Japan, which i already mentioned in other posts, states that:

''Shikigami can be Oni or demons, that should serve and protect an Onmyoji. Your abilities would be determined by the abilities of his master.

A Shikigami could assume the form of small animals, birds, etc... One Shikigami from a powerful Onmyoji could possess and control one animal. But only a real powerful Shikigami could possess a person.

When an Onmyoji is fighting another Onmyoji, they employ the use of their Shikigami. Some Onmyoji could spot the enemy Shikigami beforehand, and try to convert it to his side with magical powers. In this game, the converted Shikigami would come back to the old master, and attack with double the force. This pratice was called Shikigami Gaeshi.

Abe no Seimei is said to be the most powerful Onmyoji to ever exist. Some rumors say he had twelve Shikigami, while regular Onmyoji would rarely have more than one Shikigami at the same time.''

So, that is a rough definition of what a Shikigami is.

But, when researching this creature you would not be able to regularly find Shiki-ouji. The fastest method for him to appear, was the English Wikipedia article about Shikigami, which weirdly had this part about Shiki-ouji, but offered no source to it:

Having the kanji to Shikiouji, and some keywords, i found someone at Tumblr who asked the same question 6 years ago, in Eirikr's blog.

From there, Eirikr offered a link to a blog post writing about Izanagi Ryu Shikoku. Ryu Shikoku is an ancient folk religion and pratices from the Kochi prefecture. It is still practiced in the area to this day!

In this belief system there is the tradition of the Shiki-kui masks. Which.. bear a very uncanny resemblance to our paper guy, subject to this post:

These masks would be hang above the place the ceremonies of the Izanagi Ryu take place. They would have magical powers that could repel evil spirits, and non believers from coming to the ceremony and disturbing it. They would also serve as talismans, or paper dolls, in a simmilar vein the regular Shikigami pop image you have in mind.

Since they are used to summon spirits, bind them, and as talismans, these creatures can be, technically called a Shikigami.

With this knowledge in hands, i went to the Japanese web. And sure enough, i found this site: The Nippon Foundation Library. It has an article detailing the paper talismans used by Izanagi No Ryu Onmyoji, and their meanings, powers, and also explained a bit about Shiki-Ouji!

Here is what they have to say: (Please be warned that i do not speak Japanese, and used machine translation. Any corrections are Welcome!)

Shikē Ōji is a spiritual entity invoked by the taisa during prayers for the sick and the "toriwake" ritual to expel evil spirits causing illness or calamity. Its birth is described as abnormal, and due to its excessively violent power, it has no place to reside. Usually, it is sunk in the pond of Tendō-nanta, and summoned only when needed to guard ceremonies, to pray as the guardian deity of ceremonies, or as a prayer deity of Jumon no hakase. There seem to be several types of Shikē Ōji depending on their purpose, such as Takata no Ōji for toriwake, Gotai no Ōji for prayers for the sick, and Ōtaka-shiki for insect prayers. Additionally, talismans such as Sangoku Arashiki, Chimura San Ōji, and Sakago no Ōji are handed down, and it is inferred that they were used according to the content of the prayers, although many details of their usage are unknown.

Using the powerful Shikē Ōji against humans becomes a curse. In Kochi Prefecture, "hitting a ceremony" is widely used to curse people. Many people use this term without understanding its original meaning. "Hitting a ceremony" refers to attacking someone using Shikē Ōji. While Shikē Ōji can benefit people if used for good, it can harm them if used for evil. Talismans of Shikē Ōji, possessing such terrifying power, often have several incisions on them, each containing twelve notches, giving them a rough impression. However, unlike talismans found in mountains and rivers, they do not seem to have incisions for eyes or mouths. In this regard, they are closer to the cutting style of talismans for house gods and sacred gods. Here, one can sense the emphasis on the powerful nature of Shikē Ōji's talismans while also distinguishing them from strange monsters.

So, as you can see there is some key information about the creature here. But the most important ones:

1- It is bind to a talisman, just like other Shikigami. The text here explains it is a paper talisman with notches, just like regular ones used in religious ceremonies.

2-It has a powerful and violent nature, just like the compendium often indicates in Megaten games. It seems hard to tame and use properly without getting hurt.

3-Shiki-Ouji can be powerful and violent, but it seems they dislike being used to hurt people. Instead, they are better employed to use their magic to other deeds. However if you still use them in that regard, they will most likely curse you.

4-Their talismans have twelve notches, no incision for eyes and mouth due to their aggressive nature. This would help to control their interaction with the material world.

I am sure that, if we follow this trail we will find many more sources. Going by key words i found in this text, i found many other sites and books, but since i have no time now to fall a rabbit hole, nor do i speak Japanese... That is it, i think this is a satisfactory answer to where this Megaten Demon came from!

The real forms of Shiki-Ouji

The last thing in want to talk about, is Shiki-Ouji real appearance. Since we have a seemingly wrong impression of they in Megaten, since Kaneko took some artistic freedoms.

First and foremost: From the few things i studies about Shikigami, we know they do not have a real physical form. The paper talismans are just a way to give them physical form. But it was incredibly hard to find a Shiki-Ouji talisman, which was weird because it was so distinguishable. The main reason being that: Shiki-Ouji seems not to be believed to be easy or safe to summon, and also their talismans would be destroyed asap after use.

But with the description i got, it would be this one that matches it the most:

No eyes, or mouth. Twelve Notches, six from each side, and some incisions. Very similar to a regular talisman found in other types of ceremony. Just as the text suggested.

I got this picture from this book:

Tosa, Monobe Village: Shapes of the Gods

Monoba being the village where most of these rituals came from. The book is from 1999, and contains many pictures of actual talismans.

You can see that, aside from the head shape, Kaneko took some freedom with this design. The sources state that Shikiouji talismans should not have a face, nor limbs, since it was too powerful, and should have 12 notches. For some reason, Kaneko drew it in a human-like form, but the face still resembled the Shiki-kui masks. The earlier design of the demon was even more closely resembling the masks:

Shiki-ouji earlier design from Devil Summoner (1996). It was later repurposed as the demon Shikigami. It is almost an exact match to this talisman. I can not however identify the original source.

Shiki-Ouji current design by itself could have been based on this one talisman in specific, at least some parts of it like the head with horned-shaped appendages:

By the looks of it, its face could turn inside out, just like the Megaten Demon can do.

It was sourced by the National Museum of Japanese History, but the post went down. The low quality image of the talisman can still be seen on google, but the link is dead, unfortunately. It seems that this item is still in possession of the Museum in Japan. Kaneko could have seen it in pictures, or in person. This one seems NOT to be displaying a Shiki-Ouji thought.

Maybe the Kaneko take is that Shiki-Ouji was summoned with limbs, and facial features and became much more stronger as a result? We may never know...

And finally there is also an occult book that i found in Amazon Japan that is called: Exploring Izanagi No Ryu: ShikiOuji.

It is supposedly a manual on how to practice Izanagi no Ryu, and magics. I could not find the book online, just the summary. But it mentioned nothing about Shiki-Ouji. Probably has some sort of tutorial to summon it, in fact i was able to find many of those tutorials on the Japanese web.

Now, that is it. I think this puts to rest a little bit of mystery involving the origins of this specific demon. Kaneko sure took some freedoms, but it is still one of the more popular and recognizable characters in the series.

Final considerations:

This most likely is the answer to its origin, but i am not some sort of owner of all truths, so feel free to correct me in anything i said wrong. I am still an amateur scholar, and even if i do know a lot about mythology and ancient religions because i read many books and study a lot of hours of my days, i am by no means a specialist in Japanese Mythology specifically, specially Shikigami practices. The reason is that, i find it very difficult and time consuming to research Japanese sources, since i do not speak Japanese. I will one day, try my best since there are a lot of good Yokai to cover in future Scientific Papers.

I can, however, guarantee that i did my best possible effort in a deep search!

And i have spent a lot of time looking through pictures of Shikigami talismans, and i found some really cute. Like this one. What a whimsical little fella...

[n3ptoonz]

mk1 dialogues with the earthrealm guys!

a/n: most of these are pre-made in my notes, i'm choosing the ones that are more broad rather than targeted towards my oc! i hope it's to your guy's liking!

some of these lines are flirtatious

reader being an assassin mentioned a few times

enjoy!

Johnny Cage:

you: you are the last man i would ever court.

johnny cage: sooo i have a chance

johnny cage: i'd be lying if i said i didn't wanna be dominated by a warrior

you: i think i'd rather just kill you instead

you: what does "finish me johnny" even mean?

johnny: ohoho, allow me to demonstrate, sweet thang

johnny: i don't think you realize how seriously i take competition

you: i can guess from how you almost cried when kung lao outsmarted you in poker three times

Kenshi Takahashi:

you: you ever been asked how many fingers was being held up?

kenshi: it seems you haven't met our world class comedian johnny cage

kenshi: you look like you have something to say.

you: i was just wondering how often you wash your blindfold

you: you make that blindfold work, takahashi

kenshi: though welcomed, flattery won't get me to go easy on you.

kenshi: i still can't believe there's billions of other timelines outside of this one.

you: believe it, i had to fight off a combo of you and scorpion, not pretty.

Kung Lao:

kung lao: don't you like...kill people for a living?

you: says the man with a hat that could easily slice through a crowd

kung lao: an assassin huh...you work for general shao?

you: i would rather gauge my eyes out with push pins

kung lao: i can see you staring at my dimples

you: i was actually looking at your pressure points, but whatever helps you sleep at night

you: normally i cheer you on, but im going to take you down this time

kung lao: hah, you are certainly welcome to try

Raiden:

raiden: is it so obvious...?

you: raiden, you literally smile ear to ear at the sound of kitana's name

you: "i am nervous" my ass

raiden: i'm glad you think so highly of me, but i really was!

raiden: loser has to pay the next check at madam bo's

you: i didn't know you had such money in your pockets, champion

you: what's with all the fine men wearing hats around this place?

raiden: i...wow, you've really managed to catch me off guard

Sub-Zero:

bi-han: your flattery is not welcomed here.

you: aw, i was just getting started too

you: you said you think i'm so hot and cool and sexy?!

bi-han: [groans dramatically and tiredly]

bi-han: not surprised you're on the wrong side.

you: i dunno, something about not fucking with an evil sorcerer that could kebab me if i breathed wrong helped me make up my mind

you: so i'm assuming a double date with kuai and harumi is off the table

bi-han: i was considering it until you uttered that traitor's name.

Scorpion:

you: where did "get over here" come from?

kuai: if i told you, i'd have to kill you.

kuai: how would you even like my hair if you've only seen it tied up?

you: i have a very sufficient imagination, kuai liang

you: ouch, that's one nasty scar

kuai: it gives me a story to tell my new clan, should they ever ask.

kuai: don't you dare say it...

you: ..."come here!"

Smoke:

tomas: is it true? you find me handsome?

you: what can i say, men in uniform have my heart

you: if i didn't know any better, i'd think you're flirting with me

tomas: well...uh...i'm not particularly good in this field...

tomas: your bravery knows no bounds, you really flirted with bi-han?!

you: ah...i may have shit my pants a little when he almost froze my head off the other day

you: johnny's right, you'd be great on the big screen

tomas: thats... thats really nice of you to say!

Liu Kang:

liu: before you ask, yes, it is possible you are also a keeper of time in another timeline.

you: now i wanna ask how many people bombarded with that question

you: so, what was i like in the last timeline?

liu: there's not enough time to explain, maybe after this. maybe.

liu: i would heavily advise against trying to court a god

you: what? me? trying to- you speak madness!

you: i have to know...was i styling in the previous timeline or no?

liu: not even i had the time think of things like this as a mortal.

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

a/n: this is an experiment post, hopefully this has reach cause i miss posting on here😭

[dollysilena]

TRAINING WHEELS

CHAPTER FOUR | THE START OF SOMETHING NEW

ao3 I series masterlist | previous chapter I next chapter

five years ago, you stupidly had a fling with inarizaki athlete, miya atsumu- now, present day- he had a son he knew nothing about. you made sure it was going to stay that way, but as fate would have it, he unexpectedly stumbled back into your lives, now as volleyball's biggest star.

wc & notes: 9.5k words (i am FRIED) — they said it couldn’t be done, but consider the “doesn’t update anymore” allegations BEAT. longer writers note on ao3 LMAO. pls enjoy and ignore any errors i am dying guys

“I can’t believe you never told me!”

You tossed a bag of apples into the grocery cart.

“You knew I had a crush on Miya Atsumu ever since I saw him shirtless on last year’s Vogue Japan cover! How could you not say anything?!”

You pretended to inspect a carrot thoroughly. Naomi wasn’t convinced. She knew you didn’t even like carrots.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

You started pushing the cart faster.

“Well, if you’re not going to answer, can you at least tell me if he was good in bed?”

The grocery cart came to a screeching halt as your eyes widened like saucers. The piercing sound made both of you wince as the supermarket stocker dropped a handful of vegetables from shock. You hurriedly scurried away to another section of the grocery store while Naomi trailed after you.

“I take that as a yes?” Naomi chuckled nervously. You stared daggers at her before your friend took the silent hint to shut up.

“Naomi,” you sighed, continuing through the snacks aisle. “It’s not exactly easy telling people the father of your son is Japan’s biggest athlete. Don’t take it the wrong way, I never meant for anyone to find out,” 

“But you can see how that played out,” you continued trying to avoid making a grimace, but your face couldn’t help it.

Naomi nodded quietly. “I’m sorry for prying.”

“It’s alright,” you rolled your eyes. “And yes, he was good. Though, it was in a bathroom.”

Naomi let out a shriek that sounded vaguely like your name as you continued through the grocery store. 

It’s odd, you thought, your world was flipped upside down and nobody would be none the wiser. The past twenty four hours was whiplashing. Not only had your past fling turned volleyball superstar, not to mention the father of your child, reappeared in your life, he was here to stay. You had always assumed if your dirty little secret were to get out, the floodgates would wash your carefully constructed life away and that nothing would be the same. And in a way, it was, but there you were, grocery shopping with Naomi on a quiet Tuesday morning like nothing had happened.

You could still hardly believe it, honestly. The moment you realized you were going to be a mother five years ago, you imagined that the rest of your life after you looked at that positive pregnancy test would be without him. You assumed that he would prioritize his budding career, his passion for volleyball, above you. You were just some girl he had a fling with after all. Why would he throw away the promising life he had for you? But, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, he ended up choosing to stay. And willingly. He could’ve walked out the moment he stepped foot into Onigiri Miya, but he didn’t.

It made you wonder, would he have made the same decision five years ago? To stay? Would things have been different now if you had him by your side then? 

Did you make a mistake not telling him all those years ago?

Naomi’s voice broke your thoughts. “How’s your baby daddy doing with the whole ‘new parent’ thing anyway?”

You instinctively cringed. “Please never call him that again.”

“Well, what else would I call him?”

You rolled your eyes as you tossed a bag of Haru’s favorite chips into the cart.

“Well, all things considered, he’s doing okay. I think.” 

You weren’t really sure, typically, one doesn’t have a secret family pop up from nowhere.

“And how are you doing with your baby daddy?” Naomi continued.

You ignored the nickname, much to your dismay, you guessed it wasn’t going anywhere soon. You thought back to the question for several moments, but there just wasn’t anything that could begin to describe what on earth was going on in your mind.

“I don’t know,” you stated simply. “It’s weird knowing he’s going to be around, I guess.”

“Weird?” Naomi repeated, tilting her head. “I thought it was a good thing?”

“It definitely is,” you replied, before sighing. “I just… don’t know how to be around Atsumu.”

You never meant for him to be in your life in the first place, so you weren’t sure where he was going to fit now that he was in it, for better or for worse.

“Well, I’m sure he’s feeling the same way too,” Naomi reassured. “Maybe you should bring up spending more time with one another. Get to know each other, y’know?”

You paused, maybe that wasn’t a half bad idea. You pushed your cart to the checkout lane.

Despite Atsumu having an early morning the next day, he didn’t sleep the entire night after returning home from your apartment. And who could blame him? He had too much to think about. On the bright side, he had an early start to his morning unlike the day before. He thought that maybe by being earlier for practice he would get out of his coach’s scolding, but Coach Foster was already waiting for him at the gymnasium despite him arriving a whole hour early.

“You better have a good explanation for running out on practice yesterday, especially with the start of the season so close!” Coach Foster scowled with his arms crossed the moment Atsumu sheepishly walked into the gymnasium.

Atsumu sucked in his teeth and hoped he would believe the events of the prior night. Guess he would just have to find out…

Five minutes later, inside one of the secluded offices inside the gymnasium and away from prying ears, Coach Foster’s jaw was hanging open in a mixture of shock, horror, and disbelief. Truthfully, he considered filing for early retirement right then and there.

“You’re telling me you have a son?” Coach Foster asked in a hushed whisper. Atsumu nodded and the man gave a heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples.

“Honestly, Atsumu…” 

Coach Foster sighed deeply as he rubbed his temples. In his time as a professional sports coach, he had seen his fair share of scandals amongst his athletes, but this one might’ve taken the cake. Initially, he hadn’t believed him, chalking it up to one of his usual pranks, but Atsumu’s conviction was deathly serious. Not to mention the picture he handed him was jarring. The boy looked just like him. 

“I hope that you know what a massive responsibility this is,” Coach Foster said, beginning his lecture. He was honestly still in disbelief over the news his setter broke to him. And honestly, he was debating if what he was hearing was even true, picture or not. 

“I didn’t have my first child until I was in my thirties, you’re still only twenty-three, and not to mention still a little immature–”

“I’m gonna be a part of his life no matter what,” Atsumu stated firmly, cutting him off. 

Usually he knew better than speaking against his senior, but he quickly came to his own defense. 

“I wasn’t there in the beginnin’, so I’m gonna make up for lost time and be there for Haru.”

The Coach was taken aback by Atsumu’s tone, before shaking his head with a chuckle. He had known the setter for some quite some time, being there to see the progression of his career from when he started the league until now. He had never quite taken the young setter seriously when it came to real life experiences, he was still so young after all, but he would almost say he was proud of Atsumu for stepping up. But time would tell if he could fill in the shoes of a father.

“I believe in you,” Foster simply said. “But this does raise a few issues though.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we are going to have to talk to the PR team about this. You’re one of Japan’s most famous athletes right now, and you have paparazzi hounding your every move. It would probably be in the best interest of your son and the mother to stay under the radar until you find a way to announce this publicly without sparking controversy, which is already difficult enough considering the circumstances.”

Atsumu thought silently. In the midst of all the chaos, he hadn’t thought yet how his career could negatively affect you and Haru. He wasn’t sure how he would handle it yet, but he could feel a protective surge in his chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this is handled discreetly,” Coach Foster said.

Atsumu thanked the man, before being instructed to return to practice. As the door closed, Coach Foster sighed deeply, he sure had his work cut out for him.

As Atsumu entered the gym, he was almost immediately bombarded by his teammates. Bokuto and Hinata practically tackled him down the moment he stepped into practice.

“”Tsumu! Where’d you go last night?” Bokuto exclaimed, appearing at his side. “I wanted to practice my spikes with you!”

“Coach was mad,” Hinata shivered beside him. “He said he’d make you run triple the amount of laps today–” Atsumu gulped at the thought of the coach’s training being even more intensive than it already was.

“”Samu had a problem at the restaurant and needed some help,” Atsumu replied as nonchalantly he could. It wasn’t entirely false but it sure as hell wasn’t a good lie either. But before Hinata and Bokuto could press more, Coach Foster bounded out of his office.

“Enough small talk! We need to start our warm ups.” Coach Foster announced. Atsumu nearly sighed in relief, until he realized he was probably going to be worked to the bone.

The rest of practice went on as usual, except for Coach Foster making the session more grueling for Atsumu in particular. He bit back his complaints, already knowing this wouldn’t be the last of his coach’s discipline for him. He probably deserved it, anyway. 

Later, after a practice what Atsumu could only call torturous, Coach Foster blew his whistle and beckoned the team over.

“It seems I have an unexpected meeting with the PR representatives,” Coach Foster announced, “so we’re going to call off practice early today!”

Atsumu caught a glare from Coach Foster that could unmistakably only be meant for him. He hoped nobody else caught it or the fact his face was mortified, but thankfully everybody else on the team seemed too busy celebrating the abrupt end to practice. 

“Take the rest of the day to recover, that’s all!”

Atsumu practically felt the weight on his shoulders dissipate as he headed for the lockerroom. His bones were aching at that point, and the only thing he wanted to do was collapse onto one of the benches. He went into his locker and dug his phone out of his practice bag. Going through his notifications, he was surprised to see his first message was from you.

You (12:35pm):

hey, how do you feel about spending more time together?

You (12:35pm):

to get used to being around each other i mean

You (12:36pm):

sorry, i don’t really know how to go about this

You (12:37pm):

my bad, you’re busy at practice probably

You (12:37pm):

sorry, just ignore this

He quickly wrote back.

Atsumu (12:45pm):

nono, don’t worry, i just got out of practice actually

Atsumu (12:45pm):

i don’t how to go about this either, but i would love to spend more time with ya and haru

Exhaustion long forgotten, Atsumu grabbed his bag and headed out of the gym with a noticeable smile on his face.

You groaned as you slumped down on the staircase of your apartment complex. Of course the elevator decided to go out of service when you had an entire weeks worth of groceries to bring up. You barely had made it up to floor three before you decided to give up. Now, you were collapsed onto the step of the stairs surrounded by what seemed to be an endless sea of bags. How were you going to make it up another seven flights?

You heard footsteps behind you, presumably from someone who was also inconvenienced by the lack of elevators. 

“Sorry,” you groaned as you got to your feet as you collected up one of the bags. “I was just taking a break from taking up these damn groceries–”

“Do ya need help?” You perked up, you certainly weren’t in a position to say no.

You looked up to thank the stranger for their offer and are met with Atsumu instead. Miya Atsumu, who definitely doesn’t live in your building.

What on earth?-- Oh no. Oh no. He thought your message about spending more time together meant today. You were so caught up in bringing up your groceries that you hadn’t bothered to check your phone to see his response.

You were suddenly all too aware of the sweatpants you haphazardly threw on and the shirt you’re pretty sure Haru stained with paint from his fingerpainting phase last month. You won’t even begin on whatever hairstyle you haphazardly did this moring. You were under the impression that all you were doing was going to the supermarket with Naomi so you didn’t bother getting properly dressed. Now you were standing infront of him a sweaty mess as he looks as if he just walked off a magazine shoot with his fresh-out-of-a-workout glow, designer tracksuit, and practice bag swung effortlessly over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” You quickly said, not prepared to greet him as you clutched tightly onto the bag full of produce in your hands. “I didn’t– uh– expect you to come today.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows creased in confusion before the realization flashed on his face.

“Oh! Ya meant for that message to be in general.” Atsumu exclaimed, and he looked noticeably embarrassed. “Sorry, I just thought–”

“Nono!” You stammered, trying to collect yourself. “It’s okay, I’m off today anyways. Besides, I need help with these bags.” Atsumu cracked a smile at you before reaching down to grab a handful of bags, which was alot more than you could carry by yourself. 

“Here, let me take these too,” he offered, extending his hands out to take the bag in your hands.

“You don’t have to take them all, y’know,” you replied. The poor man already had about four in his arms already. Though, he was carrying the heavy bags without even straining himself, unlike yourself. A rigorous workout schedule would do that, you suppose

“Consider this the first of many repayments,” he chuckled as he took a bag out of your hands. You felt yourself tense when you felt his fingers skim over your hand, and you had to clutch onto the bag tighter for it not to tumble out of your hands. 

You forgot about how stupidly charming he was. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place.

Once you both situated yourselves, you lugged up the stairs and finally reached your apartment. You were noticeably more out of breath than Atsumu was, who didn’t seem to break a sweat despite carrying up twice the amount of bags you did. 

“I guess all that professional athlete training came in handy,” you snorted as you went to unlock the door.

“Coach made sure to put me through it this mornin’ for the stunt I pulled yesterday,” he chuckled. “Guess it was good trainin’ for carryin’ up all these bags.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep you around for my next grocery trip,” you snickered as you placed your bags in the kitchen as Atsumu followed.

“I’ll be here for as many trips as ya need.”

The comment was meant to be innocent, but it nearly made you stop in your tracks. You knew he was here to stay from your conversation the night before, but hearing him affirm it was unexpected. It still hadn’t sunk in yet. A day ago, Miya Atsumu was a distant memory, and today he was standing in your kitchen helping you bring in groceries. Would you ever get used to this? 

“Where’s Haru?” Atsumu asked, looking around to see no trace of the small boy. 

“School,” you answered as you began to unpack the bags onto your counter. “I have a few hours until I have to go pick him up if you wanna join me.”

“Of course,” he replied with a quick eagerness, “what do ya wanna do until then?”

Shit, you didn’t think about the fact you would be with Atsumu alone for the time being. 

Alone. With your ex-fling. 

Who you refused to admit is starting to make your heart beat a little faster.

Suppressing any of the silly leftover schoolgirl feelings you still harbored, you reminded yourself that Atsumu was kind out of courtesy of the situation between you two. You two are still strangers, fling aside. 

Before you could open your mouth to answer, your stomach decided to interrupt the conversation with a undeniable grumble. You immediately grabbed your stomach in attempt to silence it, but there was no way Atsumu didn’t hear it. Your face flushed, and you regretted sleeping in and deciding to skip breakfast that morning.

“I think that means ya want lunch.” You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“I’m mortified, but that sounds great right about now,” you nervously laughed. “I can cook us something–”

“I can’t let ya cook, it’s yer day off!” Atsumu interjected as if he were offended you would suggest such an idea. “C’mon, let me take ya out.”

“Atsumu, I look like a mess right now,” you chuckled, looking down at your clothes. “I don’t think–”

“Ya look great so that’s not an excuse,” he interjected and you’re taken aback from the sudden compliment. Surely you couldn’t look that great with your old college t-shirt decorated in paint splatters. But Atsumu looked adamant in his statement with the way he was staring you down. 

“C’mon, it doesn’t have to be anythin’ fancy,” he insisted. “We could just go to Osamu’s, on me.”

Your stomach was practically begging for attention at that point and you groaned, knowing it was too good an offer to pass down. Not to mention, you couldn’t keep holding eye contact with him without melting onto the floor. It’s almost intimidating, the way he won’t back down. 

“Alright, alright, but let me change at least.”

“Good,” Atsumu grinned as you scurried off into your bedroom.

You quickly got changed into a pair of jeans and the first decent shirt you spotted in your closet. It’s simple, but a pretty shade of green with a flattering neckline. You knew the lunch wasn’t going to be anything fancy, but it didn’t stop you from putting on the jewelry you had sitting on your dresser and swiping on some lip gloss. You gave yourself a quick look in the mirror, not bad in ten minutes.

You headed back to the kitchen where you left Atsumu, who was sitting at the counter as he absentmindedly scrolled on his phone. 

“C’mon Miya, you owe me lunch,” you chimed as you grabbed your keys off the table.

Atsumu looked up and you swore he opened up his mouth to say something, but immediately clammed up.

“What is it?” You asked, tilting your head. He suddenly seemed nervous, which was a stark difference from his calm demeanor not even a second ago.

“Ya– uh– just look nice, let’s go.”

Before you could react, Atsumu was already heading for the door. 

Stupidly and annoyingly charming. 

You hoped this meal wouldn’t be the death of you.

The elevators seemed to be back in service as Atsumu had already called it up by the time you locked the door and made your way to him down the hall.

It’s just lunch, you had to tell yourself as you both got inside quietly. Don’t be so nervous. But it didn’t stop your hands from fidgeting as you watched the elevator floor level slowly descend down before dinging at the first floor. 

You both exited and you barely made it a few steps out the front door before you heard the beep of a car. You turned beside you to spot arguably the flashiest sports car you’ve ever seen parked next to your quaint apartment building. It seemed as though it came right from the dealership with it’s perfect white paint job and bright gleam. It couldn’t belong to anyone but the professional athlete himself beside you. That V-League paycheck must be cushy.

“Wow.” It was pretty much all you could say. 

“I got it when I first went pro,” he chuckled as he brought you to the passenger side. “Kind of an impulsive decision.”

You snorted as he opened the door for you and let you inside. “I thought this lunch was supposed to be casual.”

“As casual as it can be, considerin’ the circumstances,” he said as he got into the drivers seat and you rolled your eyes. Right, nothing about this was casual. 

“I probably gotta get somethin’ different soon though,” he noted as he turned on the engine and the car revved to life.

“Why’s that?”

“Not enough room for a carseat in the back,” he responded simply as he pulled the car out. “Or would it be a booster seat? I’m not really sure.”

You were taken aback. “You already thought of that?--”

“‘Course I did,” Atsumu replied like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Thought ‘bout it on my way over here.”

You knew Atsumu was serious when he said he wanted to make a commitment, but you just didn’t think he’d be ready for change so quickly. If he was already thinking about getting a whole new car just for the sake of a booster seat, what else was he ready to change? Co-parenting wasn’t something you ever considered, much less planned for. You shook it off, knowing you were getting ahead of yourself. Right now was just lunch, and that was all. You busied yourself with looking out the window as you watched the streets go by.

“How long have ya been in Osaka?” He asked, eyes focused on the road.

“A little before Haru was born,” you answered. “Before that I lived with my grandmother in Kagawa before she passed, and after that I moved to Osaka because I knew their university had a babysitting service for parents getting their degrees.”

“So about five years?”

“Just about, why do you ask?”

“I’ve been in Osaka since I went pro after high school…” Atsumu mumbled and there’s a noticeable regret in his tone. “I just can’t believe I never knew ya were here.”

“Atsumu, don’t beat yourself up,” you sighed, looking away from the window and back at him. “It’s an enormous city and I was purposefully avoiding you the entire time.”

Though you tried to reassure him, his demeanor was still crestfallen as he drove.

“Y’know, I even avoided sports stores because I was scared I’d run into you there. Haru’s gym teacher hates me because I never get his uniforms on time.”

The last line made Atsumu snort and you’re glad he didn’t seem as dejected. “And what if I was there?”

“I actually had to go last month to pick up sneakers for Haru,” you rolled your eyes. “They had a lifesize cardboard display of you and I thought it was actually you. I ran away so quickly the cashier thought I was a thief.”

You manage to get a smile to crack through Atsumu after all. You realize you eventually made it to Osamu’s restaurant as Atsumu parked beside it. Before you could even manage to open your door, Atsumu had already made it to the passenger door outside and opened it for you.

“You know you don’t need to do that,” you chuckled as you climbed out.

“Nah, but I wanna.”

Your heart needed to stop doing whatever the hell it was doing in your chest.

It seemed like you weren’t going to win as Atsumu made sure to open the restaurant door for you as well. You walked inside as the bell chimed on the door as you spotted Osamu behind the front counter.

“Could ya please stop coming in here durin’ my breaktime?!” Osamu barked as he tossed the towel strewn over his shoulder directly at his brother’s head. “I need to start lockin’ the damn doors because of ya!”

“How else can I eat in privacy?” Atsumu whined, grabbing the towel off his face. “I haven’t recovered from the time the tabloids posted all those pictures of me eatin’ your onigiri!”

“It’s because ya ate eight in one sittin’!” Osamu exclaimed, before noticing you standing behind Atsumu. He immediately composed himself from his previous hostility. “Oh, I didn’t realize ya were here.”

“Hi,” you waved meekly. “Sorry for coming in, I had no idea you were on break.”

Osamu scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “No worries, I’m used to this moron bargin’ in here anyways. Take a seat and I’ll fix ya somethin’.”

You both got sat in one of the nearby booths as Osamu got you settled before heading into the back kitchen to get started on cooking. The restaurant was empty, and you realized Atsumu’s habit of coming in during Osamu’s breaktime was probably so he could eat in privacy.

“Oi, ‘Samu!” Atsumu called into the nearby kitchen. “Make some extra gyoza!”

“Oh, that’s my favorite!” You exclaimed. You were practically starving at this point, so the mention of the food made your mouth water.

“Ya always packed some for lunch back in high school, right?” Atsumu noted. It was true, if you didn’t pack any from home, you would sneak out to the convenience store to buy some instead.

“How on earth do you remember that?” You snorted. His memory was spot-on, especially since high school felt like eons ago.

Atsumu shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Is your favorite food still tuna?”

“How’d ya know that?” Atsumu asked, noticeably surprised, as if he didn’t remember the detail about you moments ago.

“Haru eats it all the time, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree apparently,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “He’s like a mini you.”

Atsumu smiled softly and looked at his hands placed onto the table. He was fiddling with his fingers, roughed up probably from all the time he played volleyball. He seemed nervous.

“He is?” He said, almost shyly. Not like the typically confident guy he was.

“Yup,” you answered, resting your hand on your face. “Earlier when you were bickering with Osamu, it reminds me of when Haru starts to whine.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly, before his face flashed with realization. “Wait, hey!--”

You laughed as Atsumu scoffed but it seemed more like a pout with the way he jutted out his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. It made you think about how uncanny the two looked. You couldn’t help but smile as Atsumu turned back to you, his face still a bit peeved at your earlier jab. 

“I still feel like I don’t know enough about ya still,” Atsumu noted.

You paused. Five years of avoidance would do that… But now it was different. You didn’t have to force the distance anymore unlike before.

“That doesn’t matter, does it? We aren’t in a rush to.”

Atsumu smiled at you again and you felt your heart still. “No, we’re not.”

Whenever he looked at you, you became acutely aware just how present Atsumu was. It almost didn’t seem real. He wasn’t just some image you saw from afar, like interviews on TV or in magazines you saw at the convenience store. And somehow, he wasn’t leaving or running away like you thought he would be. Nothing was separating you, he was infront of you and here with you. 

And as happy as it made you, it scared you just as much.

“You haven’t told me anything about yourself,” you noted, wanting to change the topic. “I feel like I’m doing all the talking here.”

Atsumu shrugged. “My life’s pretty much an open book, what do ya wanna know?”

Atsumu was right, he was in the limelight even before he went pro. Anything you wanted to know about him was probably written somewhere online by fans or reporters. You remembered that back in high school, he was already getting recognized by national recruiters, not to mention having an army of fangirls. You vaguely remembered them giving you– and any other girl– shit for even breathing in his general direction, you couldn’t imagine what they would have done to you had they known you both were secretly hooking up. You weren’t sure how Atsumu always kept his composure despite majority of his life being constantly under a microscope. 

You, for one, wouldn’t know how to handle it, and it was partially the reason you hid from him for so long. You wondered how long you could hide from the watchful eyes on Atsumu. At some point, they would be on you.

“Is it hard?” You blurted out.

Atsumu paused at your sudden statement. “What is?”

Maybe it wasn’t appropriate for you to be asking something personal for what was supposed to be a casual luncheon, but it the question already came out of your mouth.

“Being famous. Doesn’t it get tiring having to be watched all the time?”

You half expected Atsumu to crack some wise joke about how he was meant to be famous, his boisterous confidence was undoubtedly star-material after all, but he paused again. You noticed him looking at the wall behind you, and you turned over your shoulder to spot a picture frame hung up. It was a picture of his high school team, with Atsumu front and center with his usual plastered grin.

“Yeah, I think it does sometimes.”

You wanted to ask more, but you didn’t think you should. You didn’t think it was a line you should cross. At least, not yet. You were reminded of the fact you two were still practically strangers.

You had nearly forgotten you were there to eat had it not been for Osamu coming around the corner with a steaming tray of food. You barely were able to stop your mouth from salivating once Osamu placed the plates onto the table.

“This is for ya,” Osamu stated harshly, shoving what could only be a receipt into Atsumu’s face.

“What the hell are ya talkin’ about?!” Atsumu barked, snatching the paper from his brother’s hand. “What happened to my family discount?”

“She eats free, but after what ya put me through, ya pay double now.”

Atsumu couldn’t think of anything to retort as he shamefully shoved the receipt into his pocket, muttering something about his ‘good for nothin’ brother’. You couldn’t help but giggle.

Osamu turned back to you. “‘Least I can do is make ya food, so stop in anytime.”

You quickly thanked Osamu for his generous offer before he left the two of you alone in the booth.

“I should’ve bombarded into here sooner if I knew it would have gotten me free food,” you chuckled, immediately going to grab one of the various riceballs infront of you. The taste didn’t disappoint either. Osamu must’ve been a magician, because the food could’ve only been this good with the help of magic. No wonder he had rows of culinary awards plastered on his walls.

“Speakin’ of which, how on earth didn’t ya realize ‘Samu was my twin brother?” Atsumu asked, laughing. “His face didn’t ring any bells?”*

You groaned through your bite of rice. “Listen…”

The rest of your lunch carried on with less stress than you had originally imagined. You thought that underlying tension would weigh down the majority of your meeting and the rest to come, but the two of you got on so… easily. As if Atsumu wasn’t the last person you wanted to see, not even a day ago. You guessed it was from Atsumu’s obnoxiously pleasant personality, one that got you into trouble all those years ago, that made you feel so relaxed. It was a wonder how he was so easygoing in the first place, while you were still a jumbled ball of nerves.

“Should we go pick up Haru now?” Atsumu asked, nodding towards the time on the clock. It was nearing the time you were supposed to go pick him up from school.

“Yeah, but…”

You turned to look out the window of the flashy car parked outside and you grimaced. You couldn’t imagine the faces– not to mention the salacious gossip that would ensue– of the other preschool moms if you suddenly pulled up in a car worth more than your monthly rent, with a man in tow nonetheless. You already got enough shit for being a single parent, and you didn’t want to give those haughty women the idea you were somehow some sort of sugar baby too. 

You looked back to Atsumu, bright-eyed and grinning a magazine-selling smile, and you realized his celebrity face was probably more conspicuous than his car. 

Maybe you should’ve felt bad for making Atsumu wear a face mask and park two streets away, and probably should have felt worse for having him steal the baseball cap right off of Osamu’s head before heading out, but you imagined it would have been worse if Japan’s favorite athlete was suddenly sitting beside you in a lobby full of Osaka’s most talkative housewives. While it seemed nobody had caught onto his identity since majority of his features were covered, you still caught a few of the parents glancing in your direction. Their curiosity was understandable, it was common knowledge you were on your own, so bringing a man with you was surely an eyebrow-raiser.

“That lady with the scary makeup keeps staring at me and it’s making me nervous,” Atsumu whispered in the seat beside you. 

You looked in the direction he was referring to and caught one of the moms, Hitomi, staring directly at Atsumu. Her stark plum-red lipstick paired with spidery false lashes was daunting to look at. Not to mention, she had a personality to match. Her stuck-up personality had already grinded your nerves to a tipping point and the school year had barely began. Even Haru had a disdain for her daughter, Yuki, claiming she constantly hogged all the toys to herself during recess. 

“Y/N, you have company today!” She chirped happily. 

Translation: Who’s this man with you?

It was obvious she wanted to know who Atsumu was. Hitomi apparently didn’t have much shame as her eyes didn’t even bother to meet yours as she raked her eyes up and down Atsumu’s body. While his face wasn’t discernible though his mask, his well-built body had most of the women in the room stealing glances at him. It was obvious, even with the mask, he was definitely handsome. 

You realized there were other onlookers in the room silently listening in. Hitomi was putting on a show. However, you were expecting as much.

“Ah, yes, this is my colleague from work,” you responded, hoping your lie wasn’t transparent. “We were out nearby for a meeting and he accompanied me today to come get Haru.”

“How kind of him!” She grinned. “Will we be seeing more of him?”

Translation: Is this a man in your life? A boyfriend, perhaps?

“Just for today,” you lied through an insincere smile. The entire exchange was already proving to be a headache. You were hoping that Hitomi would just give up and believe your fib that today was just an appearance from a kind coworker. 

“Actually! I’m tryin’ to come more often.” Atsumu replied cheerfully beside you, breaking his silence.  

You cracked your neck to him at lightning speeds and hoped nobody noticed your eyes bulging out of your head. Why on earth was he not playing along?! Forget being civil with Atsumu, you were about to strangle him infront of the entire PTA committee. All the while, he was cheerful as always.

“That’s great to hear!” Hitomi exclaimed. “Since we’ll be seeing you more often, what’s your name?”

Oh, absolutely not. If the rumor mill caught ahold of any information about Atsumu, they would be done for. Atsumu opened his mouth to respond but the door to the classrooms opened.

“Oh, the kids are done class!” You interjected loudly.

Thankfully, Haru and the rest of his class were released from their classroom and into the lobby to be picked up. Haru immediately beelined into your waiting arms and Hitomi was approached by her own daughter, interrupting the conversation. 

“We’re actually in a rush now, so we’ll have to be going,” you apologized, and didn’t even wait for Hitomi to respond as you grabbed onto Haru’s hand, and grabbed onto Atsumu’s sleeve to drag them away to the front desk to sign out Haru as quickly as possible. You practically ran out of the building with both of them in tow, ignoring the many confused stares.

You collected yourselves outside on a secluded part of the street, and you almost collapsed in relief. God knows what would have happened if word got out that Miya Atsumu, of all people, was suddenly picking up your toddler.

“Mama, what’s Mister ‘Tsumu doing here?” Haru asked beside you. You were surprised Haru could recognize him with half his face and hair covered.

“How’d ya know it was me?” Atsumu chuckled, leaning down to Haru’s height and pulling down his mask to his chin.

“Only you have that weird colored hair, mister.”

Your hand immediately flew up to your face to hide your mouth as Atsumu’s face fell. A few tufts of blonde hair stuck out from the hat, seemingly giving him away.

“And mama’s only friends are you and Aunt Naomi, so–”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to snort as you pinched your son’s cheek softly. He whined in protest.

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” you scolded him before turning to Atsumu. “And you, were you trying to give yourself away to the entire lobby? Hitomi’s probably gone off and told the entire neighborhood about my new coworker by now.” 

You remembered the time one of the preschool moms caught you at a work dinner and assumed you were out on a date. By the next morning, the entire lobby was telling you how happy they were to ‘finally see you with a man.’

“Well, I am goin’ to be here more often now.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “So may as well tell ‘em.”

“And were you planning on telling them who you were?” You questioned raising an eyebrow, remembering how he almost answered Hitomi when she asked for his name. “What would you have done if they found out who you really were?”

Haru held onto your leg beside you as he quietly observed your conversation, probably confused on what you two could be bickering about.

He thought for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “I guess ya have a point… My coach did tell me to keep quiet for now.” So he did end up telling his coaches.

“I get that it’s important to keep my identity and all, but I guess I was just got excited about being able to be there for Haru,” he murmured. You sighed, while it was a stupid move, he did seemingly have good intentions. You probably shouldn’t have been so hard on him.

“Mama, you still haven’t told me why Mister Atsumu is here,” Haru frowned in confusion from beside you. You looked down, realizing you still hadn’t answered him. You looked back at Atsumu, still looking dejected.

“He’s here to hang out with us today,” you answered, patting his head. “And he’ll actually be coming to pick you up more often too.”

“Really?” Haru exclaimed excitedly. Atsumu looked back up, suddenly cheering up with a grin. Atsumu almost reminded you of a puppy with how quickly he could perk up after being discouraged.

“C’mon, we’re even going to go home in Mr. Atsumu’s car,” you said, leaning down beside him. “Atsumu, do you wanna show Haru the way?”

“Yeah!” He replied, almost too excitedly as he offered Haru his hand to take, his glumness now forgotten. You smiled warmly as you watched Haru accept his hand, before Atsumu led him to the car.

“Haru, take off your shoes first!” You scolded the young boy as you entered your apartment. Haru, still clad in his school uniform, hurriedly tugged off his small sneakers, and immediately bounded off to the living room to catch the afternoon airing of his favorite cartoon he frequently watched after a long day of school.

“What do ya do now that Haru’s back from school?” Atsumu asked from behind you as you took off your own shoes. 

“Well,” you tapped your chin. You figured it was a good start for Atsumu to know what Haru’s schedule was like. “Usually after school, I make him some lunch and he gets to have some TV time, and he usually likes watching either cartoons or volleyball.” Atsumu grinned at the second option.

“Then he does his homework, gets some free-time before dinner, then he’ll get ready for bed.”

“Since he needs to eat lunch, can I help ya?” Atsumu offered. 

“Sure, I think I have the ingredients for some of his favorite noodles.”

Truthfully, Atsumu probably shouldn’t have offered. He didn’t have the heart to tell you he was an absolute shit cook, but he was desperate to help in any way he could. But how hard could it be?

Apparently, very hard.

He had cut his finger about five times now cutting a single carrot, had oil pop onto said cut, and burnt the noodles the second you handed him the pan. 

Damn Osamu for taking all the cooking genetics in the womb! He cursed silently. He recalled all of his mother’s and Osamu’s fruitless cooking lessons, which all ended in failure. When he had moved out by himself to Osaka and had to feed himself, he solely relied on Osamu, takeout, or instant ramen. He was just thankful you were able to salvage the meal so that Haru miraculously had something to eat that wasn’t burnt to a crisp. 

He moped quietly in the corner of the kitchen, holding onto his injured finger that was throbbing from pain, and his hands were already sore from the exhaustive setting practice he did earlier. If he was alone, he’d be waving around his battered hand and cursing up a storm.

“Let me see,” you beckoned him over. He surrendered his hand over to you in shame as you inspected his cuts and burn.

“Haru!” You called out to the boy in the living room. “Go grab the first aid kit from the bathroom, please!”

His cheeks burned in pure embarrassment. He felt like the toddler in this situation, much less a parent.

Haru, ever the responsible child, immediately got out the first aid kit upon your request. You went to grab a few bandaids and burn treatment for Atsumu to put on, but Haru tugged at Atsumu’s pants leg.

“I wanna do it!” Haru exclaimed. Atsumu realized he was referring to the bandage you were about to hand Atsumu. He looked over to you for permission before you nodded, agreeing that it was okay.

Atsumu chuckled. “‘Course, bud.”

“C’mere, I’ll show you what to do,” you told Haru, before carefully instructing him what to do with the bandaid and ointment. Now, a four year old was taking care of him by bandaging his hand. It’s laughable really, a kid, his own child at that, was able to take care of Atsumu before he could take care of him.

“All better!” Haru chirped, showing Atsumu the zoo-themed bandaids now clad on his fingers and palm.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haru,” Atsumu sighed, rubbing over the plaster on his fingertips. “It seems I’m not a very good cook.”

“‘Tis okay,” Haru responded with a cheery smile that Atsumu thought was all too similar to yours. “I’ll still eat it!”

You ushered Haru to take his food and eat lunch, while Atsumu was still sulking in the kitchen. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at Atsumu, he was really like a whimpering puppy.

“Don’t worry, he thinks the food is delicious.”

“Yeah, but that’s because ya fixed it,” Atsumu frowned.

You noticed he was still rubbing a hand over his burnt one, so you clasped onto his to still his anxious fidgeting.

“Haru’s not your Michelin-star brother, his taste palette is composed of dinosaur nuggets and jello. He’ll eat just about anything.” You chuckled, rubbing your hand reassuringly over his. He laughed, more so at himself than anything.

Something about being near you made him feel clumsy and nervous. While you were composed and self-assured, he was suddenly back to being the thick-headed teenager that he has desperately tried to outgrow. He wasn’t sure what happened to the polished and confident Miya Atsumu everyone knew, the one that he was so sure he’s been all this time. The star setter, the positive teammate, the Atsumu who knew what he was doing. 

But he wasn’t. And it was now of all times that he needed to be that Atsumu. 

The last time he felt like the shoes he were wearing were suddenly too big was when Osamu told him he wouldn’t be following him after graduation. Like then, the role he needed to fill was gaping, and it was eating him alive how he didn’t know how to be that. The guy everyone expected him to be, the Miya Atsumu everyone needed him to be, that he wanted to be.

“Y’know, one time I burnt all the cookies I made for his school bake sale,” you suddenly said.

“Huh?” He realized he had strayed too long in his thoughts.

“Haru had a big class bake sale that all the school moms were involved in,” you explained. “It was the first school event I had to work in, and I got assigned cookies. I thought it’d be a slice of cake. How hard could it be, y’know? But I was such a klutz and took a nap while they were baking. Guess I was exhausted from work. The smoke detector woke me up and our landlady was about to call the fire department.”

“Really?” Atsumu replied, a meak laugh escaping from him.

“Yup, and I didn’t have time to bake new ones so I thought I could pass off store-bought ones as homemade, but the other moms saw through my bullshit. Hitomi, the mom you met earlier, gave me an earful about it,” you snickered before looking back at him, still rubbing the pad of your thumb over the bandage across his palm.

“It’s all a learning curve, you get better at it with time. So don’t beat yourself up just because you messed up the first time, alright?”

Atsumu let out a faint chuckle before nodding. The thought of you in the same position as him reassured him somewhat. Of course he didn’t enjoy the thought of you with bandaids all over your hands like himself, but the thought that you could struggle as much as him, while still having the experience of parenthood makes him feel a little better about his lack of cooking skill. He would get it next time.

He looked back down and realized your hand was still on top of his and the blood rushed to his face embarrassingly fast. You noticed his obviously flustered expression, and jerked your hand away.

“Sorry about that–” You stammered quickly. 

A string of curses slung through Atsumu’s head. He should’ve been the embarrassed one here.

“No, no, it’s alright!--” Idiot, idiot. The lingering feeling of your hand resting on his made him absentmindedly clench his hand. He tried to fight back the heat still remaining his cheeks. Why on earth was he acting like it was the first time a girl touched his hand? Maybe he was still like a stupid teenager in more ways than one.

Suddenly, your phone was buzzing on the countertop. You turned over to grab it as Atsumu caught his breath.

“Ah, it’s my boss, I should probably take this.”

Atsumu nodded. “I’ll let ya have some quiet.”

Atsumu left the kitchen so you could take your phone call in private, and noticed Haru was just about done with his food at the dining table. His head perked up noticing Atsumu come in.

“Hey mister, why are you hanging out with me and mama today?” Haru suddenly asked through a mouthful of food. “You bored with volleyball or something?”

You and Atsumu hadn’t had the chance to properly explain why he was suddenly spending more time with you both, probably because you weren’t sure how to properly explain it in the first place. Haru’s curiosity was understandable though, it wasn’t exactly ordinary that the athlete he watched on television was suddenly meandering in their apartment.

Atsumu took a seat at the table. “I guess ya could say I’m yer mom’s friend.”

That explanation would do for now, he hoped. Thankfully, it seemed like it sufficed enough for Haru as he nodded. For a four year old, he didn’t need to question the logic behind the situation.

“Okay, then do you wanna watch TV with me?” Haru asked, suddenly changing the topic.

“Sure, what do ya wanna watch?”

Haru hummed in thought, before a lightbulb went off in Atsumu’s head. You had mentioned before that Haru enjoyed volleyball, this could be a perfect bonding opportunity for him. He imagined all the cool facts and conversations they could have about the sport, maybe even Haru and him could play the sport together–

“Haru, do ya wanna watch volleyball?” Atsumu asked the child, sitting beside him at the kitchen table.

Haru took a final bite of his food.

“Nah,” Haru replied. “I wanna watch basketball.”

It was as if the blood in Atsumu’s body ran ice cold and a crack racketed through his heart. Surely what he was hearing wasn’t true. 

Atsumu clutched his chest in offense before almost shrieking. “Basketball?!”

“Yeah,” Haru nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“B-But,” Atsumu stammered, feeling a bit of his soul trinkle out of his body. “What’s so good about basketball?! Volleyball’s  so much cooler!”

“I started playing it during recess, and it’s so much fun!” Haru grinned, finishing the food on his plate. Before Atsumu could protest, he hopped out of his seat and headed off for the living room. Atsumu knew parenting was going to be hard, but nothing could have prepared him for this. 

Atsumu followed Haru to the couch, verbally protesting the idea, but it didn’t stop Haru from grabbing the remote and turning it on to a sports channel playing the dreaded sport. Atsumu sat stiffly on the couch, accepting that he would just have to come to terms with the fact that his son hated him. Okay, he was being a little dramatic, but still! This was the utmost betrayal in his book.

“Slam dunks are so cool,” Haru cooed at the screen. 

“Yeah, but service aces are alot cooler.”

For the duration of the game on television, whenever Haru would comment on the game, Atsumu was sure to follow with his own rebuttal about how volleyball was clearly the superior sport. Though, Haru didn’t pay him much mind. Atsumu was relieved when Haru finally decided to turn off the TV, finally putting an end to his impromptu torture (once again, being dramatic). He wondered how you managed to do this everyday and not be at your wits end.

Haru hopped off the couch and went to collect his backpack off the nearby table. Damn, Atsumu thought, he didn’t have to be told to do his homework. Haru must have picked that up from you, because it definitely wasn’t from him. He vaguely remembered almost having to repeat kindergarten had his mother not convinced his teachers otherwise. Mrs. Takahashi did not hold a special place in his heart. She definitely liked Osamu more than him.

“What’s yer homework, bud?” Atsumu asked, looking over the boy’s shoulder as he sat down at the coffee table with his work.

“I have an art project,” Haru explained as he unpacked his crayons. “I have to draw my family.”

Haru suddenly stuck a piece of paper infront of him, and Atsumu blinked in surprise.

“Draw with me!” He requested with a toothy smile. Why not? Atsumu shrugged before accepting the paper. Anything was better than having to watch basketball.

Atsumu was reminded that he was certainly not an artist. But he was surely better at drawing than he was at cooking. He drew something vaguely similar to a tiger– reminiscent of the stuffed toy sitting across from him on the couch, but it came out something more like a balloon animal. Next to Haru’s paper, they both were similar in children-like quality.

“Done!” Haru announced before presenting his paper to Atsumu. It was a typical kindergartener’s drawing, with colorful squiggly lines and a smiley faced sun adorned in the corner.

“This is me and mama,” Haru explained, pointing to two stick figures with bright big smiley faces. “This is Aunt Mimi, and I put you mister!”

“What? How come?” Haru considered him a part of his family? Already?

“You said you’re mama’s friend,” he stated simply. For a four year old, it was all the reason he needed. Atsumu looked down at the photo, a smile creeping on his mouth, even if Haru chose to color his hair with a too-bright yellow crayon.

“Sorry, sorry!” You exclaimed, returning to the living room to find Haru and Atsumu sitting cross-legged at the coffee table. “My boss never knows when to stop talking, I swear.”

“That’s alright, look at what Haru drew!” Atsumu beamed, gesturing to the drawing on the table.

You walked over to inspect the colorful drawing and snorted. “Is that supposed to be you there?”

“Yup,” Atsumu grinned bashfully. He was practically giddy with excitement.

“Your hair is the same color as the sun,” you giggled pointing at the neon yellow sun in the corner of the page.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You couldn’t help but grin at how gleefully Atsumu was beaming at the drawing. 

“Could I have this?” Atsumu asked, looking at Haru.

“No, it’s my homework!” Haru retorted, frowning. “I’ll get in trouble.”

You could tell Atsumu was about to give one of his infamous pouting faces that you were starting to grow accustomed to.

“But I could draw you another one,” Haru replied, going to grab another piece of paper.

“I’d like that very much.”

As Haru got to work on another drawing for Atsumu, you both went back to sit at the dining table together.

“How would you say your first day of parenting went?” You asked, across from Atsumu.

“I don’t think I’ll ever recover from Haru asking me to watch basketball over volleyball,” Atsumu scoffed. “Do you think he’s already goin’ through his rebellious phase?”

“It’s not the end of the world,” you snorted. Atsumu seemed practically miserable at the idea that Haru preferred the rival sport. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Haru declared he wanted to pursue any other activity other than volleyball at school. Knowing Atsumu, he would probably collapse at the idea.

“Ah, I didn’t realize how late it was gettin’,” Atsumu said, looking at the time on the clock on the wall.

“Yeah, I’ll have to get dinner started and Haru to bed soon,” you nodded, the day having flown by before you could even realize.

“I’ll get goin’ then,” Atsumu said, getting up from the table. “But I hope we can do this again soon?”

“Of course, I’d love it if you came around more often.” you replied and Atsumu’s eyes widened.

“Really?” He replied.

“Haru would too! I can already tell he likes being around you–” You quickly added, realizing that you probably seemed too eager for Atsumu to visit again. But it didn’t seem like he minded at all.

“I hope so,” Atsumu chuckled, going to collect his things. “Even if it seems like he doesn’t like my job.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you called over Haru to say goodbye, and the toddler came to the door with a paper scrunched in his hands.

“I drew you!” He announced proudly, presenting Atsumu the picture he had drawn for him. Once again, you noticed he had used the brightest yellow crayon he had in his box to color his hair.

“Thanks, Haru,” Atsumu grinned, going to ruffle his hair and take the picture from him. “I’ll put it on my fridge as soon as I get home.”

He turned back to you, the picture held carefully in his zoo-bandaged hands. It’s adorable, really.

“I’ll see ya around soon, alright?” Atsumu said with a toothy grin.

“Alright,” you replied, your tone softer than you intended.

Haru and you waved goodbye as you watched Atsumu head out of the apartment and down the hallway. Once he was in the privacy of the elevator, he pressed the drawing against his chest, where his heart was busy welling. 

“I’d love it if you came around more often, huh?” He chuckled to himself. He didn't admit to himself he thought about the comment all the way home.

* a little joke at how y/n didn't recognize osamu somehow LMAO, excuse the little logic behind it, it was for plot convenience :)

reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciates! :)

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[visorforavisor]

as an Irish (we don’t call it “Gaelic”, ever) speaker and a Sunny fan, I thought it would be fun to do a bit of a post about the Irish-language scene in The Gang’s Still in Ireland, because it’s not a scene I see widely discussed but I adore it.

some background. I am not a native Gaeilgeoir (Irish speaker) — my first language is English — but I started learning it age five and have always had very high grades in it and a huge love for it. I was hugely excited about Charlie Kelly being able to read Irish in the previous episode, and even more so when he turned out to be able to speak it.

Colm Meaney, the actor who plays Shelley Kelly, grew up in Ireland and as such would have learned Irish throughout his time in school. (this has been required by law more or less since Irish independence, and it was already quite common before that. nowadays, you can get exemptions for things like dyslexia but otherwise you have to do it.) this is clear in his ease with the language. (I will do a post about where in Ireland Shelley lives at some point, because there aren’t many areas where Irish is the principal language, but that is for another day!) both the actor and the character have easy and good Irish.

Charlie Day, as an Italian-American, obviously does not actually speak the language and presumably learned the lines as a bunch of gibberish sounds. (nonetheless, some of his pronunciations do suggest he had the words written down non-phonetically too.) his delivery of the lines is god damn amazing. Charlie Kelly’s Irish is not remotely American-accented. if I heard someone speaking Irish like that, I’d assume they sounded Irish when speaking English. he doesn’t even sound neutral in Irish; he does actively have an accent (the word choices are more non-regional, not pointing to any of the three distinct dialects, but this makes sense as the same is true of Shelley’s Irish). his pronunciation is so on point and his accent is seriously just a delight to listen to. that’s serious effort to have been put in by an American in a show that routinely makes fun of Irish-Americans! I cannot stress enough how cool it is to see my national language like this and how good a job he does.

as a side note, Charlie Kelly finding Irish much easier to read than English makes total sense! he clearly has dyslexia, as well as intellectual disabilities and autism, so literacy being tricky is totally fair, but is probably being made worse in English by how much of a god damn ridiculous illogical irregular mess the language is. English has around two hundred irregular verbs, and that’s before we even begin to consider the irregularity of its spelling. Irish has eleven irregular verbs, multiple of which are only irregular in one tense. its spelling is entirely consistent and, once the rules are known, any word (pretty much) can be flawlessly pronounced from reading it or flawlessly spelled from hearing it. (I promise Irish names make sense. just not if you try to use English rules on them. the languages are very different!) Irish is one of the most regular languages out there.

so, I thought I’d go through the actual scene. I’m going to put each line, the direct translation, the subtitle provided, and a comment. hopefully this will be interesting to someone other than me!

·—·

“is mise do pheannchara, a Charlie.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

subtitle provided: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

okay, so they translate “pen pal” two different ways in this scene. the first, used here, is “peannchara”. this is a compound word, much like all those long words you get in German. it’s a perfectly good choice given there is no one standard choice for translating that concept.

“tá brón orm, ach ní thuigim cad atá ráite agat. is féidir liom gibberish a léamh, ach ní féidir liom í a labhairt.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’ve said. I’m able to read gibberish, but I’m not able to speak it.”

subtitle provided: “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you just said. I read gibberish, but I don’t speak it.”

I would slightly disagree with the subtitles here. the “just” bit isn’t expressed at all. in fact, there is no Irish equivalent to that word, and we often just use the English one in the middle of an Irish sentence because of this. however, I expect that RCG (Rob McElhenney, Charlie Day, Glenn Howerton) wrote the subtitles and then handed them to an Irish translator, in which case the translator did a perfectly good job. a couple of notes about the use of “gibberish” here. I love it. firstly, we totally do drop English words into sentences like that. secondly, I really like the choice to use the feminine form of “it” here (that is, to make “gibberish” a feminine noun). all languages except English are feminine nouns in Irish as a rule, so it’s just a lovely detail calling back to the fact that Charlie thinks of it as the gibberish language. also, Charlie Day really does absolutely nail that voiceless velar fricative (the consonant sound in “ach”, as in Scottish “loch” or any number of German words), a sound even many natively English-speaking Irish people are lazy about. good on him.

“níl aon ciall le sin. sé á labhairt anois!” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no sense to that. it’s being spoken now!”

subtitle provided: “that doesn’t make any sense. you’re speaking it now!”

I adore the phrasing of the first sentence here. thoroughly authentic. there are much more obvious ways to phrase it, but this is absolutely what a native speaker might go with. same goes for the second, actually. Colm Meaney says the second line in a sort of shortened way (same idea as how we might turn “do not” into “don’t”) so I’ve struggled slightly with how to directly translate it. interestingly, Shelley categorises “gibberish” as a masculine noun here, but this isn’t really wrong since it doesn’t have an official grammatical gender due to not being an actual Irish word. just a little odd. also, to fit better to the subtitle of the second sentence, I personally would’ve gone with “tá sé á labhairt agat anois” rather than “tá sé á labhairt anois” (the full version of what Shelley says), as this includes the information of by whom it is being spoken.

“’s é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “it’s my brother that’s my pen pal.”

subtitle provided: “but my pen pal is my brother.”

firstly, to be clear, the nuance of the sentence structure here is not captured in either of the above translations because there simply is not an English equivalent to it. secondly, Charlie uses a contraction here by shortening “is é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn”. super cool. also, there’s that other translation of “pen pal”! this one is “cara pinn”, which uses the Irish genitive case (the word mutates instead of using an equivalent of the English word “of”; this case also exists in other languages including Swedish, German, Latin, and Greek). I like this translation very much too. both work! Charlie Day again delivers this line really nicely, even stressing the word for “brother” (and pronouncing its initial consonant mutation absolutely gorgeously)! I am truly very impressed.

“níl aon fhírinne le sin, a mhic. ’s é do chara pinn… d’athair.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no truth to that, son. it’s your pen pal who is… your father.”

subtitle given: “no son. your pen pal is your… father.”

so, I really disagree with the first sentence of the subtitles here. it works, but also misses a lot of the beautiful nuance that could have been got. I would have gone with “that’s not true, son” or, more likely, “that’s not right, son”. I also disagree with the placement of the ellipsis in the second sentence, as you see (and my frustrations in translating this sentence structure to English continue, as well). however I like the use of “a mhic” (“son”) here, very much. this is a mutated form of “mac”, meaning “son” (yes, as in all of those Irish surnames; they all just basically say who the person is the son of). it carries both meanings that exist in English: an actual son, but also the use of the word as an affectionate way to refer to any man younger than the (usually male) speaker. this is a really nice choice.

·—·

so, yeah! those are my thoughts. feel free to ask any questions you like. I love this scene so much. as well as the reasons above about how good the translation and delivery is, I also love two other main things about this.

firstly, the level of dignity given to the language. Sunny makes fun of Irish-Americans all the time, but doesn’t really do the same to Irish people from Ireland, which I like (I do also wanna talk about Mac and Charlie as members of the Irish diaspora because it is so so interesting, but that is for another day). Irish as a language is not often given dignity, especially in American or English media, so I really love that it isn’t the butt of the joke here.

secondly, that such a significant scene is delivered through this language. just wonderful. after fourteen and a half series, we finally discover the biological father, and the scene cannot be separated from this beautiful language. it just is so perfect.

RCG, and of course Charlie Day in particular, we Gaeilgeoirí (Irish speakers) thank you! our little language made it to the screens of so many people around the world.

I hope this was interesting haha.

·—·

edits: fixed some things I mistyped.

[the-thursday]

Hello everyone, this post was long overdue, and finally, prompted by our beloved Howls also leaving, it's time for me to rip off the bandaid as well.

I would also like to announce a sort of departure from Ranger's apprentice fandom.

I do not know how many from RA fandom era from few years back are still here but I assume mostly newer blogs keep up with this account.

Take a lil history walk with me, if you will. I joined this fandom around 2017-18. I was very active around here, posting all kinds of stuff, fics, takes, incorrect quotes, art and whatnot. I made many friends with whom I had a great time and I am happy and honoured that I am friends with some of them till this day. Fandom became the second home to me as things hadn't been exactly easy irl and maybe I fixated on it too much, but gods know I loved this place so much. And I wish for everyone to experience this happiness and just as I made friends who became a significant part of my life, I wish that for you as well. Being surrounded by amazing and wonderful people and sharing similar interests is one of the most pure joyous feelings in this world.

As 2020-2021 rolled around, some of you know that things in my life picked up a harsh pace and I started to drift away. In 2021 I left the fandom because of that and unpleasant things with one of the people here. It was one of the most gut wrenching decisions I had made.

In 2022, I started gradually getting worse, but also had the courage to come back at the end of the year. I felt happy and welcomed and I am so grateful to everyone who made it happen, who supported me and gave me another breath. My mental health kept getting worse but I wasn't alone and that has been everything to me.

Now it's about a little more than a year since I've been back and again, I've met wonderful amazing people who I am happy and honoured to call friends. I don't regret coming back and I am happy I did, however I think it's time for me to go again. And below, I hope to explain why.

Like I said, I've been getting worse. Last autumn and this winter have been very difficult for me and I had to rethink some priorities, as life is going on the time left for me to invest in fandoms is getting thinner and thinner. Unfortunately, among them, isn't keeping up with this fandom. With my next words I hope not to insult anyone. The truth is, I don't find enjoyment in the fandom and content itself anymore, or more like, as much as I used to. I don't exactly vibe with posts for roughly the past half a year and I don't mean this in negative way, I just think it's for me to move on. All of the new people that I've seen have wonderful content and while I don't exactly vibe like I used to, I can see that you're having fun and that's important! People come and go and I do wish all the newcomers and seniors who are still here to have a great time, but I don't think I have energy, capacity and vibes to be part of it anymore. As you know, my blog has been very much inactive for a long time, aside from dumping my dumb sketches or reblogging something here and there. And rather than letting it rot, I'd like to cleanly move on. Anyhow, on self deprecating note, since really it's not like I've been someone prominent I don't think this is a loss to the fandom and this makes it easier for me.

So to summarise, my leaving is about personal things, my life moving and the fact I don't have the mental capacity or motivation to actively keep up.

So what does this mean? I won't be posting RA related stuff on this blog anymore. This blog will turn into a neutral main blog and I'll create one side blog for art that I hope to continue to make and maybe one blog dedicated to the work of Brandon Sanderson.

However, it doesn't mean that I am not up to goof around about RA anymore, however this will be done in DMs. If I sometimes get to draw and post RA related art, it shall be posted on my new art blog with RA tag. However, I don't think there's a high probability of public RA art from me anymore, because 1) need to move on and 2) I have a very strong and maybe confrontational opinion about art in this fandom that has given me a bad taste and discouraged me from enjoying making it and posting it. I won't go into details because I don't want to sour this post for myself and for y'all with it.

I want to thank this fandom for everything it has been for me and for everyone and I wish y'all some happy fandoming!

Yours only,

The Ranger Thursday 11

[blackstargazer]

kys<3

Firstly, if you’re gonna tell someone “kys” say it with your chest, don’t hide behind an anonymous wall, coward.

Secondly, I can only assume that this was in response to my response to your unsolicited opinion on the wonderful piece @wormvirtues drew.

If that is the case, please note that it is entirely valid for you to have a differing opinion on the piece. Not everyone enjoys the same art, same works, same content as others and that is okay. You have your preferences and they don’t align with the work that was created.

What is not valid is you coming into an artist’s space after they spent hours working diligently to create something that wasn’t even for you and shit all over it because you didn’t enjoy it.

Lastly, here are some key etiquette lessons that can help you tremendously in your travels through fandom spaces:

1. Your Kink is Not My Kink (And That’s Okay!): More commonly known as the Kink Tomato! It means exactly what it says. You may not have a size difference kink, however there are many people that do. You wouldn’t want to be shamed for something you enjoy that others might not, right? So please don’t shit directly on someone’s work whether it be art, videos, or fics because you saw/read something you didn’t care for. It’s not for you and that’s fine, just keep on scrolling until you find something you like.

2. Don’t like, don’t read: Now, I realize this is mildly different because it’s art and it’s not like you can just unsee it, however, you can still acknowledge that this was not for you and again, just scroll on by.

3. Golden Rule (treat others as you would want to be treated): imagine you spend hours possibly days working on a piece, whether written, drawn, or recorded. You’ve put so much care and effort into this gift for a friend for their birthday because you care about them right? You want to show them how special they are to you, and then someone comes along and says it wasn’t good enough for them, that the characters you’ve created don’t match their perception and not only that but they try to shame you for ever having written/drawn/portrayed such a thing that was borne from love. Just because the creator put it out there for others to enjoy doesn’t mean it’s your job to ‘police’ their works. If you don’t like it, it’s not necessary for you to ruin a creator’s day by telling them how much you didn’t like it. Just scroll on by, find something you do like, and give that creator some love.

Which brings me to my last point:

4. Don’t comment if you have nothing positive to say: Artists/Cosplayers/Writers/etc aren’t looking for your criticism (unless specifically asked). They’re putting out their work in hopes that people will like it, and when people come into their dms/comments/public blogs/spaces giving unsolicited criticism on work that (I cannot emphasize enough) was not for them, it is incredibly fucking rude and discouraging and there is no place for that kind of behavior in public spaces (especially on the creator’s blog).

Please keep in mind that the people you are engaging with on the internet are not just avatars but living breathing human beings, just like yourself. They have thoughts and feelings and a desire to create and just because it isn’t something you enjoy, doesn’t mean you have to shit on then for having the “audacity” to create and post something not to your liking.

Side note: When you gain some maturity (please see your anonymous ask), I am open to discussing differences in opinion on kinks/preferences within the fandom, because as I stated before everyone is entitled to their opinions and views as to how they see characterizations. Just don’t shit on people because their opinions differ from yours and especially don’t shit on creators who have made a thing free of charge for others’ viewing pleasure. It is easy to have a conversation about how you view characters differently when you keep an open mind that your preferences may not align. <3

[oleworm]

🔥 aegon ii

I'm going to talk about the show version only because I tried to read Fire and Blood and I didn't much care for it. I'm going to speculate that George published it because of pressure to get the last two ASOIAF books out and that's why it reads like the notes you write before the actual story. Moving on.

Surprisingly I have a lot to say about Aegon II, especially comparing what he actually does and how it is presented by the narrative vs. what Rhaenyra does and how it is presented by the narrative. I am aware that TGC was fighting to develop Aegon's character beyond being a rapist and a drunkard, so that already shows a bias by the writers. I don't know if you agree, but when I watched the series I thought that the audience is meant to find him foolish and ineffectual. He supports measures that alleviate the burden on the smallfolk and that's seen as bad--we can't do that, Aegon, we've got a war going on, they're going to have to get used to austerity. Let's ignore that, geographically, the blockade doesn't make sense because they should be able to bring in supplies by land, ha. OK! Maybe he doesn't have all the logistical details, but the principle was correct, if he is to govern these people he is also responsible for them--only, this is considered to be too naïve of a view. But I don't know, it could be giving the writers too much credit to assume they were trying to make a contrast between the ideal of a king, that is, the fiction that is sold to the people so that they accept his authority, vs. what a king actually does, which is funnel state resources to cement his political power and that of his kin-group.

Then he goes out on his dragon and gets burned to a crisp--we're supposed to think that he's emotional and stupid, but he sets Sunfyre on Meleys when he sees that she's burning the soldiers and no one on their side is doing anything about it. If anything, Criston and Aemond's plan was to let Rhaenys think it would be easy, let her kill a bunch of people before they bring out Vhagar. It was an impulsive decision to come in the first place, but it cannot be denied that he risks his own life in trying to protect them. It was significant to me that when Sunfyre was wounded it flapped its wings as to not to crush the soldiers that were running away in fear, and later Vhagar tramples them to death like they're nothing, the same way that Daemon and Caraxes did in earlier episodes.

I don't know what the show is trying to say in writing them the way they do. It is very inconsistent. Here you have Aegon, who threw in his lot with his people and exposed himself to many of the same dangers, even if it wasn't the most effective way, but that is supposed to be a bad thing because he is a ridiculous person? And you have Rhaenyra, who is queen because she said so, who starves her people and sends weapons of war while sitting comfortably in Dragonstone. In real life it would not be like that, we have different laws, but in their world outside of Dorne there is no precedent for a daughter passing over a legitimate son. It's like, in-universe Rhaenyra has the odds stacked against her for being a woman, but in real life we are supposed to root for her for that very same reason, and it has very little to do with either of their actions.

I read your reply to my ask and I agree that they should have kept that part about him abusing women that have no recourse, it adds complexity to his character that a lot of people don't like!

[trickstersaint]

hey, i just finished playing aromanticism, and it made me feel a lot better about my circumstances lately. ive come to terms with my aromanticism for a long, long time now (Almost 10 years!), but as ive gotten older, it feels like people keep their distance from me- and it's been really hurtful. i found a lot of peace, suddenly, reading aromanticism. i think im gonna carry that metaphor with me forever now lol, having a still heart. i feel a profound sense of pride about it. 1/

hello!!!! first of all, i'm so so glad to hear that it was so positive for you. it makes me so happy to know that there are other aro people reading that project and finding hope and pride and value in it: that's more than i could have ever hoped for when sharing it, truly :)

one thing i think about a lot with aromanticism is that sense of pride. it seems.... strange, maybe, but i think that it's something that can and does coexist with that sense of hurt. just like any queer identity, the world around us might not show us any care, but just like any queer identity, our decision to find pride and joy in our existence is one that is motivated from the inside. queer pride has never been something that was handed to us by other people, but on the flip side, it's always been something that you can fight to have and to keep :)

as for what emotion inspired me to make the poem: i do NOT want to say love here because that's not really what it is (<— guy who is only ever like a few really in-depth tumblr posts away from id'ing as loveless). but in the way that i say "i love being aro". that kind of love. the joy and pride and contentment that i feel with being aromantic, and the spite that often fuels it, the rush of defying the expectation that i be miserable or that i hate the way that i am. love is not important to me. but what is important is holding myself gently against a world that isn't kind to me, you know? aromanticism is a light that i cup in my hands up close to my chest and it's something that brings me a sense of warmth and peace.

i said this in a reblog somewhere in the notes of the original post, but i originally wrote this for a creative writing class where i assumed most people would never have even heard of aromanticism. personally, i am deeply, deeply protective of that little light; and while there are negative aspects of any life experience to talk about, i did NOT want to hand over something to non-aro people that would reinforce the idea that being aromantic is something that leaves a person unhappy. you can be upset about it. you can be afraid about it. but still, but still, you will find a way through. it's not something that dooms you. it's something you can grow to embrace. originally, there was a version where the doctor was not always kind to you; knowing that it would be read through by allo people, though, i didn't think that they should get to say, indirectly or not, that my experience—aro people's experience—was an unhappy one. i didn't think that was a choice they got to make, in real life or in fiction. and when i handed it to aro people it got to be a wonderful, beautiful moment where every path took them back to a confirmation of validity and pride and joy.

there's an ending that you can only see by going through all of the choices completely confident in your still heart, and i fully expected when i wrote this that nobody but myself would see it. it remains such a joy to see mentions of it in the notes of the original post. it can be hard for me to cry but man i get fucking close...

i hope i answered everything! if you do make something similar with twine i would love love love to see it :) i highly encourage anyone wanting to make something similar to go experiment with the program, it's free and it's pretty easy to get the hang of. if you'd like to see the twine game that inspired me to make aromanticism, i would be so excited to direct you to with those we love alive, which is a beautiful, surreal, fantastically creative piece that i highly recommend you read. adore you anon and i hope aromanticism (the piece and the concept) can be a joy for you for years and years to come 🖤

[coff-in]

HAII GUESS WHO'S BACK AGAIN!! Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

can i request ashley with a fem reader (either the same one, or a different one entirely) but with ashley's like... unhingedness and yandere(?) attitude cranked up to the max? like, reader can already hardly talk to anyone else as is but i feel like with that cranked up more than usual, she probably really tries to isolate reader from friends, potential love interests, and even family members to a certain extent. (　＾∀＾)

i'd imagine jobs are super finicky too, reader can probably never hold down a job too well because of whatever ashley throws a fit, likely over reader leaving (reader tries to have the discussion that she needs job because job = money!! it probably works at first and then falls onto deaf ears later on (　・ω・))

if reader tries to leave the situation? ashley probably blackmails her into staying with whatever she has for leverage or do the classic old "i'm the only person willing to be by you!!" type shtick that manipulative people tend to do ( ｡ﾟДﾟ｡) if reader does leave successfully you bet there's going to be hell until ashley inevitably finds reader. i am running out of fuel though;; so insert potential dubcon/noncon situation here

i should've specified this earlier and you don't need to rewrite my one req bcs you didn't know but i just ask for no incest in my asks due to some personal reasons ( ＞Д＜；) please don't feel bad, though, since you didn't know!! i'm pretty much open to anything but incest and all the grossout fetishes, though! ^^ again, i am so sorry for the inconvenience on that part!! ( ´д｀､)

also ^^ just assume all my reqs will be fem or gen neutral reader ﾟ+.ﾟ(´▽`人)ﾟ+.ﾟ

- 🕊

notes from coff-in: i'm sorry, i didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable about the incest (i think it might've been the petplay one? but lmk if i'm wrong if you want to). BUT thank you for telling me this! i'll try to keep it in mind in the future when responding to your asks :) and thank you for requesting! :D there's no smut in here, just some dialogue and me trying to get a hang of their dynamics is all. you can interpret this as the previous [reader] to your other asks if you want :3 lmk what you think

[fem] reader-insert

The phone rings once, twice, thrice. Then once, twice, and thrice again. You're hoping that he'll pick up. You don't know how long Ashley'll stay asleep. Your worry and frustration grows as you notice how cold you're getting, standing outside. The sky is blue but not sunny. It is very early in the morning. You made sure to come out at this time on purpose.

Once, twice, thrice-- and then it picks up.

"Hello?" The voice on the other side is low and groggy. You obviously had just woken him up. Good, you think, he should be awake. I should be inconveniencing him.

"Andrew. It's [reader]." You don't try to make small talk, you want to get straight to the point with this, "Have you talked to Ashley recently?"

He groans, "Yeah... I talked to her yesterday. Why?" The cold air only adds to the apparent bitterness in your voice.

"Can you please tell her that I have to leave the house to work so I can make money?"

There's a tense pause... "What?"

You sigh, "Ashley won't let me leave to go to work. I am politely asking you to talk to her about letting me go to work." You look back at your apartment, where Ashley decided to sleep over for the night. You hope she's still asleep. "She usually listens to you." She used to listen to you, too.

It's Andrew's turn to sigh. "I can't make her do anything, [reader]--"

"At least fucking try! Please..." You add on that last part in order to not sound like an asshole. "I'm sure the last thing you want is her or me asking you for money. I'm trying to support her too, Andrew, but she's not making it easy. I'm asking you to help me." There are cars loudly passing by and you try to focus on them to calm yourself down. You feel... scared. Scared that this won't work. Scared about what Ashley would do if she caught you talking about her like this. You used to not be scared of her. "And I doubt your parents would fucking help me..."

"Bloody hell..." Andrew groaned and shuffled around on his end of the call, "I'll... I'll, uh, see what I can do." It sounded forced from him. Take your fucking time, you scowl at your phone.

"Thank you." You then promptly hang up the call and stuff your phone in your pocket. You stand outside in the cold for a little bit longer. The birds chirp their songs on the bare branches of trees and clear sky contrasts just nicely against the dark landscape of your apartment's parking lot. You like the blue hour.

But like every hour, it comes and goes, and so do you. You turn tail and climb the steps back to your apartment. Walking down the hallway as quietly as possible, you take out your keys and put them into the lock. However, before you can open the door, it opens for you and you're face-to-face with Ashley Graves.

Shit.

"Where were you?" She's staring you down with a death glare, her face dark and pink eyes burning through your skin and soul. She's mad. She's mad and that's never a good thing. You try your best to steel yourself.

"I was downstairs."

"Why? How come you didn't wake me? What was so important that you had to get up and leave without me?!" She was raising her voice as she dragged you into the apartment, violently slamming the door behind you. You held back a frustrated sigh but couldn't stop a frown from appearing on your face.

"I had to call Andrew for help." The mention of his name made her pause for a bit. You took that window of opportunity to explain yourself, "I asked him to help me with my job. I'm-- we're a little tight on money, Ash. You preventing me from working isn't helping either."

"As if you'd be better working with a bunch of fucking floozies!" She yells with her hands balled into fists, "I'm doing you a fucking service by making you stay here! Those no good whore would probably flaunt all over you and make you do all the hard work by yourself!"

"Ashley..."

"Besides, you don't need to work anyways. Why not just ask you parents for money or something? Why not stay here with me?!"

"Ashley!" You yell at her, causing her to open her eyes and look at you. "I have to work! I have no one else to ask for help because of you! I don't talk to my parents, I have no friends to help, and I barely even talk to my coworkers. All! Because! Of you!" You stomp your foot on the floor childishly, but you can't help it. It's all too familiar. You're just going through the motions at this point. "I'm trying my best to be there for you, Leyley, but you make it so hard! I need you to back off! Give me some space to breathe, please!"

She looks at you bewildered, eyes wide and eyebrows bent downwards. She slowly looks down away from you. "You need some space, huh?"

Oh god dammit. "Ash..."

"I get it. No one wants me around them."

"Ashley."

"I'm just the fuck up of the family, aren't I? But guess, what! So. Are. You. We have no friends, no family, not lovers-- we're stuck with each other." She stares at you with intensity, "You chose me. YOU CHOSE TO BE WITH ME!!! No one else is going to take you in! Only I can love you for the fuck up that you are! No one else can love you the way I do! No you whore mother, not fucking Andrew, NO ONE ELSE BUT ME!" She comes closer and tugs on your shirt, your noses practically touching each other. "You have no one else but me. Got it?"

----

coff-in

[kanmom51]

Thanks for all your work this past week! I was thinking that Letter really is the song that Jimin said he would want to sing to his love when he answered the question back in 2016. We've always thought of Serendipity and that's certainly a good one, but Letter is so real and personal, I think Serendipity is now the preface and Letter is the forever.

On that note, I've been wondering if the Jimin we see today - confident and so sexy - would have existed if the relationship with JK didn't happen. JK always told/tells him how beautiful, cute, handsome he is, and has beautiful eyes etc. Plus the confidence a great physical relationship can give someone doesn't hurt lol.

One other side note, do you remember that concert when JK said he didn't sleep the night before because he was nervous about something he was going to do? I can't find it but it felt like something really big, like a proposal? Sorry if I missed the answer somewhere.

Thanks again and I love your page, it's my encyclopedia.

Took me a while but I got to you @ftmom1060, lol.

Will start from the end. I think you mean JK said he was nervous so he didn't sleep, not that he was nervous about something he was going to do? What I do remember are these:

I love your take on Letter, as in:

"Serendipity is now the preface and Letter is the forever."

Love this!!

As for your thoughts about JM and who he is today. I think it's easy to assume that JM without being part of BTS since 2012 (pre-debut), and most definitely without having JK by his side ever since, would not have turned out the same as the JM we know today.

It's a given. The people in our lives as we are growing up and maturing have a profound impact on who we become, to go or to bad. And besides JK we also had other people around him with influence that impacted who JM is today.

As for JK, we have his early years at times hurtful teasing (not only JK's for that matter), and we have JK since 2015 doing everything he can to erase all the damage and uplift JM with compliments and kind words and support and defending him and speaking up for him with the others as well.

I am positive that JK's love, adoration, has a lot to do with JM's confidence today, but we do need to remember that our self image comes from within, and even when our loved ones flood us with compliments, if we don't believe this on the inside, it helps, but it's not enough to repair our own self image. So, yes, it obviously helped, I mean, who of us wouldn't want to be complimented constantly, in front of the whole world. Of course it had an effect on him. All I'm saying is that it had to be an internal process as well.

And of course, finding happiness, finding someone you love to bits and adores you right back, being loved by someone like that, it also gives you a sense of confidence.

It definitely helps to know you are loved. It definitley helps to be showered with constant compliments. It helps you build up your confidence, but the initial work has to come from within.

We heard from JM how he struggled through the pandemic. JK was by his side to love him and support him. But at the end of the day it's an internal process he had to go through to get out of the place he was in. I like to look at the lyrics of Like crazy:

This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

That part there. It says it all. It's about being lost but not wanting the help offered by others to be found, not when you are not yet ready for it yourself. Once you are ready for it, that is when you will accept that help and help yourself as well.

So yes, JM most likely wouldn't be who he is today if not JK and what they are and mean to each other. But in saying that, let's not underestimate the work that JM has done on himself, how far he has come to be the confident mature young man that he is today.

[asirensrage]

Bestowed

Title: Bestowed Fandom: Star Wars (AU) Rating: M Pairing: Kylo Ren x Undescribed.Reader Word count: 1345 Warnings: kidnapping. sacrifice. assumed murder. stalking. magic.

Summary: Based on the scary story prompts from @darkpromptsyouneveraskedfor. Prompts include: 13) "I don't think of it as a curse, more a blessing." and 13) You wake up in the dark, on a slab of stone, with a pentagram drawn around you.

Notes: This is part of the Horror prompts series here.

You woke up slowly. And cold. That was the first thing you noticed. You tried to sit up but your arms don’t move the way you want them too. They’re bound together. The area is lit by candles and the fear that was growing in the pit of your stomach skyrockets to your throat. You’re on stone. It’s marked with something that you can't entirely make out in the flickering light, but it’s easy to trace the fact it goes around you. And under. 

“Don’t move.” The voice was deep and you looked around, trying to figure out where it came from. “It’s alright.”

“Pretty sure this is as far from alright as it gets,” you snap back. You lift your hands up, trying to tear at the binding with your teeth. Anything to get you out of here. It takes a few minutes before you even realize that every rip you manage to make heals itself. The bindings look as unblemished as they were before you started. “What the fuck?” 

“You won’t get out,” the voice tells you. “They won’t release for anyone but me.” 

“Then let me out.”

A figure moves into the candlelight. He’s tall and broad-shouldered. You can make out dark hair, pale skin, and a prominent nose. “I can’t do that.”

Your throat tightens but you try to ignore the fear that’s building. “Why?” 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. “For longer than you know.” 

“Well, I’m not really into stalkers,” you try to be polite but firm and ignore the way your hands are shaking. “Next time, just ask a girl out for coffee, okay? Now can you untie me? My family is going to be looking for me.” 

“Ah yes. The sisters.” He starts to circle you and it’s hard to twist and keep him in sight. “There are five of you now, correct? Two passed away. One at birth, one as a child.”

You clench your jaw tightly. It was a painful reminder of the siblings you lost. The ones who came before you and just…never made it. They didn’t even get a chance. “How do you know that?” 

“I told you, I’ve been waiting for you. Public records and the internet do the rest if you know where to look.”

You shift, trying to throw your legs over the side of the platform you’re on. You need to get out of here. You need to go…as far away from here as possible. 

“It has been increasingly difficult to find one like you. The seventh child of a seventh child.”

“My dad really wanted a boy,” you explain. It hadn’t happened but they tried. They stopped with you. It had been your mother’s demand. She couldn’t take anymore. “That doesn’t fucking mean anything.” 

“It does.” He says it with complete assurance. “I have been waiting. Others have too. I won’t wait any longer.” He moves forward, shoving your legs back on the stone slab. “Don’t move. It’ll be less painful if you stay still.” 

“For what? Being ritualistically sacrificed? I think I’ll pass.” 

“It’s more than that. I am offering you something in return for what I will take.  In fact, something you yourself are not able to access due to your heritage. Others would simply rend the power from you and discard the husk that was left no matter what it did to you.  I call this a fair trade.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t want anything you’re going to curse me with.”

“I don’t think of it as a curse, more a blessing. Regardless, you do not have a choice.” 

He says something you don’t understand and lightning shoots down your spine. It feels as though you’re being electrocuted. The flames on the candles grow and the heat in your stomach increases. You cry out, tears building in your eyes and falling as it feels as though the blood in your veins is boiling. 

“Please! Stop!” you beg but his voice continues, echoing in your ears. 

The fire increases, your head swims and all you can do is scream until you black out. 

-

The next time you wake up, it's on something soft. 

Everything hurts. Your muscles keep twitching but you don’t feel like you can move. At least until one of your feet and calves cramp up. You can’t stop the tears or shooting up to sit, reaching for your leg. You don’t get the chance to. Someone touches you, fingers digging into the sore muscle. You swear but as the pain releases, you can’t help but fall back, exhausted again. 

You stare at the ceiling, ignoring the hands that continue to ease the cramping muscles. “What did you do to me?” 

“An exchange. Your lifespan is now tied to mine in exchange for access to the power you cannot reach for yourself.”

“What?” You force yourself to sit up, ignoring the pain. “What are you talking about?” you demand again when he doesn’t answer. 

“You have always been beyond…mortal. Now you are more.”

“I don’t want to be!” 

“There was no choice.” 

“There’s always a choice.”

You slap him without thinking. Your head whips to the side, cheek stinging. He hasn’t moved but you feel as though you’ve hit yourself. You stare at your hand in shock, wondering what happened. 

He gets up and you think you see a red mark where you know you hit him. As soon as his back is turned, you let yourself wince and mouth out an “ow”. 

“Here. Eat.” A plate is thrust into your vision. There is a small selection of fruits and granola bars. 

“Uh…thanks?” 

He nods and sits back down where he was before. He waits until you pick at one of the orange slices. “You’re an attractive target for those seeking to increase their power.” 

“...” You stare at him for a moment. “How is that possible? I’ve never done anything.” 

“You don’t need to. Power crosses from father to daughter or mother to son. It is inaccessible to the offspring, but not to one like me.”

You frown slightly. “What does that even mean?”

“But you cannot take something for nothing,” he continues as though you haven’t spoken. “There is always a price. I gave as much as I thought I would receive.” He leans forward. His hand touches the growing bruise on his cheek. You can see it fade, and as it does, sparks tingle under the skin of yours. His eyes bore into yours. 

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say any of this before kidnapping me?” 

“Would you believe me?”

“That doesn’t matter!” 

“You want the truth?” He waits until you nod. “After scrying for you, I…got sloppy with the search and I had to deal with two others who were on your trail. My home is warded for intruders and the ritual was done quickly. Neither of us is in danger anymore. You won’t be a target unless they kill me too.”

“That doesn’t solve everything,” you say, wondering if he’s going to ignore the kidnapping. 

“It does,” he nods. He pulls back slightly and reaches for something. You watch as he lifts a small bowl filled with a dark red liquid. He sets it down on the edge of the bed before reaching and grasping one of your wrists. You try to yank your hand back but his grip is firm. He dips his finger into the liquid and brings it to her skin. You watch as he draws a sigil. “This is where the magic pools.” He repeats the action with more symbols on your other wrist and neck. The marks burn slightly and your protests at the action fade as you realizes that the pain in your body is gone. Your psoriasis is even gone.

“Holy–”

He leans forward, blowing on the mark on her wrist. They light up, glowing red.

Your breath hitches as the sensation. You glance up, meeting his dark eyes as he watches your reaction. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. “What’s your name?”

“Kylo. You can call me Kylo.”

taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

[sleepymarimo]

I saw someone say Toji would never get over his wife dead and would never fall in love again, what do you think about that?

anon!! thank you so much for the message and i'm sorry for the delay, it took me forever to get my thoughts into words. it's a bit of a jumbled mess. i might even go back and add something i forgot lol.

so, i'll break down what i think about this question…

also like mild disclaimer but this is just how i see toji's character! he can be whoever you want 🫡

tldr: i don't think it's impossible, but he's not gonna make it easy for you!

wc: a little over 1k-ish?

so, according to mr. gege, toji gave himself to megumi-mama wholly. he was undoubtedly in love with her and i believe that he fell for her first. given his history with the zen'in clan, one can maybe assume that megumi-mama was just unlike anyone else he'd ever met. to me, it makes sense that toji would fall for her first, whether it was her kindness or other aspect of her character.

minor side note here, but i feel like we don't truly know much about megumi-mama's character. all we know is that she significantly impacted toji's life and honestly, i love her character. if she has no fans, i am dead </3 it's a classic case of real recognizing real, and toji would not be the man he is without her. i

anyway…

following the death of his late wife, plus the time toji momentarily spent as a somewhat proper husband and father, i'd say he's self-aware to the point that he won't allow himself the chance to fall in love again.

that said, impossible is a strong word. i think, given the right person and conditions, he can get himself to fall in love again.

the 'who falls in love first' question is hard to answer. he falls first, he might protect himself and dip before things get too deep. you fall first, start to ask him for commitments, he'll feel like he's suffocating.

if you fall first:

due to his freeloading tendencies and overall lifestyle at this point in the story, he's not above taking what you willingly give him. truly, to me, there's a very sensitive balance that must be maintained when it comes to handling the sorcerer killer.

to hand everything to him on a silver platter would be his dream. he'll stick around, he might even pretend to care. he's not above taking the easy street while keeping his options open. you're good and great, but if someone is offering more, he's off.

while toji has no respect for himself or others, i believe he has a thing for people who can hold their own ground and respect themselves.

remember when todo asks megumi what his type is and megumi's answer was a person with an unshakable character? a person with a moral compass that isn't easily swayed? yeah, i believe he gets that from his dad.

sticking to your guns, not being a complete pushover, catches toji's attention.

if you were to fall in love first, but keep some solid boundaries and don't let him walk all over you, that's a plus. he might try to push a little (since he'd catch on pretty quick if you were crushing on him), but if you hold your ground and don't let him take, take, take… that earns you points.

i like to think of keeping a loose leash, keeping him in your orbit and allowing him to do his thing. he might not even realize that he comes to your place first, that he stops entertaining others. yet, the second you start tugging, shortening that leash, he'll flail and bail.

if he falls first:

if toji gets the feeling that he's, well, feeling things for you, nothing is stopping him from severing the connection right then and there. he can find other beds to crash, other scraps to eat. whether he acknowledges it or not, he's a runner. there's no need to make things complicated when he can simply leave it all behind.

it's an interesting thing because yes, he can be selfish and indulgent, but ultimately he's protecting himself. in my opinion, one of the reasons he's wary about falling in love again is because it requires him to make himself vulnerable. and by being vulnerable, he has to give up control.

he's been vulnerable all his life, whether it was being the zen'in's punching bag or falling in love only to have megumi-mama die, and has been hurt physically, emotionally, mentally, etc.

to fall in love again and have that kind of connection is... a lot. it's easier to brush attachments off, to stay in control and enjoy the fleeting pleasures of life.

but, like i said, nothing is impossible.

under the right conditions, i think toji can be tempted to stick around. not that he has to be forced to see you, but having a link to you makes it a little more difficult for him to leave. some fun scenarios to think about would be:

a reader who works at his favorite food joint. why would he give up the best offal in town?

a reader who is a secretary for one of his clients, maybe a client themselves, someone he frequently does business with

a reader who also dapples in underground work, maybe an informant, etc.

a reader who works at a race track, or somewhere he usually goes to place bets

get the gist? if he just knows you as an acquaintance with no other link, it's easier for him to leave. associate yourself with a place or person that he can't quite walk away from, and it's just a bit harder to walk away.

should this be the case, then i think it would be more likely for him to fall first, depending on your interactions of course.

unlike with megumi-mama, who he gave himself to wholly, he'll give you bit and pieces of him, like a puzzle. even if he starts to get attached, he's hesitant to put all of his eggs in one basket. so over the period of time that he knows you, he'll start revealing more or doing more, and he watches your reactions.

it's not the most healthy, mature thing in the world, but i feel that he'd totally 'test' you.

it's like he's waiting for you to walk away, to confirm the bias he already has that he can't do love again. you'll either pass his tests or confront him about his behavior, both which i think can potentially work in your favor.

eventually, as i mentioned before, he'll start to come around more and see less women until you're the only person he's with.

once he's in, he's in.

i'm just gonna go off topic a bit here but..

will it be different? yes. will he compare to megumi-mama? probably. she will cross his mind, maybe things he used to do with her, he'll do with you and he has to learn how to separate those things. will he feel guilty? there's a good chance. like i said, it's something he has to learn to accept.

like i said, off topic, but imo this man really needs a partner who is emotionally mature. hell, if you're able to talk to him about his late wife, maybe even convince him to go to visit her grave, it would heal him in ways that he didn't even know he needed.

well… i hope that answered your question anon! if you have any more, pls let me know! it means a lot that you asked me and trust my opinion 😭

like i said before, this is just my opinion on toji and how i view his character while writing :P

[roohuh]

A Visit from Mrs. Gaunt

Part 14 of the Obliviate Series

Ominis x MC

Summary: Ominis mother comes to collect her son.

Warnings: parental abuse trigger warning

You went to bed early complaining of a headache leaving Ominis by himself in the common room reading. The room is unusually empty for this time since everyone is out watching the Slytherin VS Ravenclaw Quittage match. Sebastian had urged Ominis to join him at the game but Ominis had never cared for sports to him; it was just a lot of shouting. Besides he loved having the common room to himself. He was comfortable in front of a warm fire reading about different healing spells.

“Hello Ominis.” A silky woman’s voice says from behind him. The hair rises on the back of his neck.

“Hello mother.” He remains seated, not bothering to turn to her.

“Did I never teach you to stand and face a lady when you greet her?” She tisks at her son “ That hussy of yours had the same horrible manners.” Ominis tries to remain calm knowing his mother is baiting him.

“If you have come here to fight, do not bother yourself.” He says picking up his book.

“Oh how like your father you are! So dismissive.” She complains, draping herself across a chair beside her son. Ominis continues reading in hopes she will lose interest and leave.

“What is it about that vixen of yours anyways? Your brother has taken quite a shine to her also.” Still no answer from Ominis.

“She does have a lovely scream.” The woman says wistfully. The book drops from Ominis hands as he rises slowly from his seat.

“You are lying.” He growls.

“She came flying into the room with such excitement when her stupid elf said it was a Gaunt. I am sure she was expecting you.” Drawing his wand, Ominis points it at his mother. Stepping forward she holds the wand to her chest.

“Do it.” She whispered. Tears fill his eyes, hand wavering feeling as if he was a frightened child once more.

“You know the spell.” She taunts.

“Do it!” Ominis flinches at the shout expecting the strike that usually comes. This time she merely took his want and tossed it over her shoulder.

“It is a pity you are so weak.” The mother grabs her son by the shoulder and they disappear.

Sending the doors flying on their hinges you explode into the Ancient Runes classroom

“Where is he?” You demand ignoring the class full of confused second years. Wand drawn you fearlessly aim at Professor Gaunt.

“Where is who?” You press your wand into the side of the man’s neck with a hiss

“You want a demonstration of my power?” The man gives a chuckle.

“I would love a demonstration however I have a class to teach. As for Ominis, he is merely paying a visit to our family home.” Sebastian steps in putting a restraining hand on your shoulder. He has been hot on your heels all the way from the Slytherin common room where you had discovered Ominis wand. Seeing Sebastian you asked him where Ominis was in an effort to return the wand. Sebastian had just assumed the two of you snuck off together for the night so when you came down looking for Ominis he was slightly alarmed. You were practically a flash of light in the halls using Ancent Magic to propel you forward as you raced to the Undercroft. Finding it empty you turned towards Professor Gaunt’s classroom feeling a deep pit of dread in your stomach

As Sebastian pulls you out of the classroom the professor calls out:

“You know the very easy fix to all of this.” Outside of the classroom you shake off Sebastian’s hands.

“He is just trying to antagonize you. We do not even know if that is where Ominis actually is.” Sebastian tries to sooth you.

“You know as well as I do that Ominis is not the type to disappear without so much as a note! And he left his wand! We both know where he is.”

“Do we?” Sebastian tries to reason.

“He is at his family’s home!” You snap.

“And where might that be?” The realization dawns on you and you sit on the floor in frustration. Neither you nor Sebastian had ever been to Ominis families house.

“Ominis is a capable wizard, he will be alright.” Sebastian tries to convince himself as much as he is convincing you. Offering you a hand up he adds.

“Come on. Let’s go search the dormitory for clues.”