#so I am thinking about having some of them build semi floating cities

[girlscience]

alien be upon ye

[canyouhearthevoices]

HALAZIA: First Reactions

Many people are, justifiably so, saying this is a HALAteez song. At this point I am pretty convinced that actually, we haven’t seen any HALAteez yet, and that FEVERteez are their own thing, same with TEH WORLDteez (who need a better name). I imagine that one of them (most likely THE WORLDteez) become HALAteez after some kind of disaster/failure. I’m still on the ‘Precious’ hype train.

The thing i found most fascinating about this one (other than the world losing gravity) was the monument to HALAteez - perhaps the people of the city, and/or the underground movement, remember HALAteez and the good they did, and thus semi-worship them? It’s also kind of funny that it is positioned like a scarecrow and possibly scares away the Guardians/government. It also has banners and chains hung over and around it like Nepalese prayer flags, which i found interesting. 

I also wonder why the old man (I think his name is One-Eye?) doesn’t show up here.

Anyway, I’ll just point out the things my film student brain noticed - full initial reactions below the line.

The same megaphones from previous MVs - correct me if wrong but I think they showed up in The Real and THANXX?

When I die I want a HALAteez scarecrow over my gravestone - not some angel.

This is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.

This is what I mean about it looking like a scarecrow and Nepalese prayer flags. The megaphone are also, of course, key to ATEEZ breaking the control the government has over people, and are used to play their music. 

This space mirrors the round building they were in in Guerrilla, but it’s not the same place I don’t think. Eithe way, it’s in the process of being destroyed, and this is our first image of gravity being a bit kooky. The impression that this gave me was that the government restricting people’s thoughts and feelings was so wrong that even the laws of nature started to go a bit haywire too. Or perhaps it is just another indication of the Cromer and its misuse/being broken destroying the world slowly. Think the dimension convergences and the gravity issues they created in Thor: The Dark World.

And Hwa is of course with the statue and the other followers of ATEEZ.

Please no this reminds me of the Maze Runner. Anyway, San (sue me I can’t quite recognise the members by silhouette despite my best efforts) is not having a fun time in this abandoned shopping centre (?) I mean shopping centres don’t ever seem to exist in dystopia for some reason - perhaps because they’re so essential to capitalism and a lot of dystopias emphasise dictatorships only? Either way, it’s dead. I don’t like that this leads me on the path of thinking ATEEZ think capitalism is good, however, I would agree that it is, to some degree, a form of self-expression which would also be stamped out by this government.

It also has this ball which floats because of kooky gravity - does anyone have any clue what this is except for it reminding me of the ball-shaped megaphone/speakers from Guerrilla?

It’s a horrid screenshot, but I spy with my little eye the room from ‘Answer’ - another connection to HALAteez (and Treasureteez but tbh I wonder if we’ll ever see them again).

I’m liking the Woo lone-wolf thing - it again reminds me of him knowing things and possibly being some sort of traitor. And of course, I don’t think anyone missed the Black Pirate hat he has (found???).

And of course the HALAteez flag.

Earthbender Yunho?!?!?!?!

More gravity, and note the speakers in the back. This is also a very royal-toned scene, with the gold chair and columns, but the sand makes it seem like this kingdom is past its prime. Also, can we just imagine a flashback to every time Yunho has been on a chair in a wonderous set in ATEEZ Mvs?

There’s definitely something up with Yeosang (but we all knew that). He’s been imprisoned and left alone a lot - this makes me think that he was chained before he became the symbol of peace from The Real. But nevertheless, he is chained - just like the HALAteez monument, and he watches the city burn. Or maybe it’s just pollution and Strictland loves its coal - it probably does, actually. 

Note that the background is all grey, but near Yeosang there are bits of grass and other plants. A key theme throughout ATEEZ’s Strictland journeys is that they have most of the colour in the MV, while the city is largely in grey - we can see this in the gold of Yunho’s scene, the cream colours from the ‘Answer’ set, and the grass in San’s scene + the matching gold of Seonghwa and the HALAteez statue. This also alligns with them calling the world a ‘grey city’. Or was that TXT? Shit, the struggles of following storylines with similar themes.

I’m certain they both used that description at one point - it’s just that TXT used it metaphorically and ATEEZ used it literally. 

Jongho gets to be the head of an army this time. I despise the weird white-eye effect they did on him - that’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Reblog of he’ll appear in your room at night.

Oooooh yeah, Woo.

He knows something. But we also knew that.

 I just love this shot.

Again - he is the only colour, other than the green building (which reminds me of a toilet block) and is also very close to him.

Yunho vision time. Being seen through the eyes of the Guardians? Or did he just eat some shrooms?

There are either pictures being taken or lightning going off as Hwa becomes the Black Pirate. Very dramatic - either the photographers or the lightning sends a cool message. 

And please do note the Jesus imagery.

Omg they’re all there. From here the ball reminds me of the earth, but it has been smothered by grey - pollution and the loss of individuality and the arts.

Omg okay.

Well Joong has his throne/stage - as he should. And, of course, note the broken telephone pole, the followers around him, and the broken down car - they’re also in the courtyard of the same building from San’s scene (and presumably the rest of the MV). The colour literally frames and backs him up. 

He also has his Captain’s mark.

Mingi also shows up in the ‘Answer’ scene and is wearing gloves and a black hat - they’re not quite the same as the HALAteez ones, but that’s not the point.

I love this shot of him. He is, again, surrounded by and makes the colour, with his hair. Also note the ‘freedom’ written on the side of the monument, and that the base is surrounded by speakers.

I am IN LOVE with the ink staining on Mingi’s fingers - it’s a symbol of a writer and a creative, but also potentially of someone who is going a little crazy. Does anyone know how to do this? I want to wear my fingers like this if I get an opportunity to go to an ATEEZ concert.

Well, rip for Yunho sitting in a chair. He still gets to sit though, and this mirrors a similar angle shot from ‘Say My Name’ (and also of Yeosang in INCEPTION and Turbulence).

Omg I’m only halfway through the MV.

I know that this is just where the statue is kept, but this makes me think that Yeosang is going to fight in the Colosseum - which I imagine is something that the director of the MV considered.

So now we have three of them with the statue - Yeosang, the symbol of peace/prisoner, Mingi, who was by himself in The Real, and Seonghwa, arguably the most powerful member. 

Omg Woo, why?!?!!?

Traitorous behaviour, my dude.

Perhaps the black pirates weren’t able to fulfil their quest - or they are moving on to the next step.

Okay, they’re all there now. But it’s also a dance scene, so the importance is debatable.

I do love the choreo tho.

Yes, Yunho, arson is the way to go.

Dang, okay, something really went wrong with the Black Pirates, and I guess this version of ATEEZ are taking over. 

All of the followers are trying to pull the earth down again - to protect it? Destroy it? Heal it or something else? Goodness knows with ATEEZ. I never thought they’d burn a monument to the Black Pirates but here we are.

Is edgy Joong with a mic my favourite Joong? No and it’s not close, but I still like it.

Dang okay San.

Note the water - which is often used in the storyline to show that something is a dream. Especially when it’s also with my dude San.

He’s gonna die!

Alright, nevermind. What was the point of that? Was the ball just a dream?

Perhaps he’s just reached enlightenment, or become the demon.

It starts (snowing?) and these dudes, who I assume are from the government, turn up, too late. Makes me think that the ball thing was some type of MacGuffin.

But we do see that there is at least one bird left alive in this world, which is definitely a good sign.

And that’s it! An interesting piece of music and art to say the least. 

As far as the lyrics - they are relatively typical - they have lost their voices, they have lost their emotions and need to fight to get their freedoms back, they want to reach utopia and feel the actual sun and waves, and to have actual dreams and the freedom to follow them. 

I’m feeling a prequel to HALA HALA, since they talk about wanting to be alive, but the whole point of HALA HALA is that they are alive (until the song is over....)

And no one still has any clue what HALAZIA stands for - I would honestly be surprised if ATEEZ know, either.

What do you think? I love hearing other theories!

[dimadimoo]

Hi. I wanna talk about this dream I had yesterday, it felt so damn real, and honestly, it was one of the most interesting dreams I’ve had in a while. Now, I’ve had realistic dreams before, but not like lucid ones cause, let’s be real, I can’t control shit in my dreams. But some of these dreams are so vivid I still remember them like they happened yesterday. And they always take place in the same reality, the same places, the same damn city every time.

Like, if I could make a map of this city I always visit in my dreams, I totally would. It’s always the same spots: a high school, a college campus, this mall that’s connected to a hospital, some narrow street, that freakin' back room bookstore that feels straight outta some liminal space, holy hell, hahaha! There’s a wide street near that bookstore with a roundabout or something, a grocery store, the college dorm and campus with a parking lot basement, and this house near the edge of a hill with a massive tree. It’s weird, but every time I have these realistic, semi-nightmarish dreams, I end up back in one of these spots. All of them feel like liminal spaces... The vibes are just off in the best way. And I know it’s all in the same city because the weather, the environment, the overall vibe is always the same. It’s like I’ve lived there but am just visiting different areas each time.

Anyway, onto the dream itself. So in this one, I popped up in the same college campus as usual, and the first thing I remember thinking was, "Oh shit, I’m back here again. Interesting..." I started exploring the building, which was packed with people for some reason. I was just kinda floating around like a ghost, but people were definitely aware of me. I think I even interacted with a few. And man, every time I talk to dream people, it’s awkward as hell. They just spew random gibberish like AI bots or something, doesn’t make any sense, and it’s kinda funny, hahaha!

But the weird part is I felt like someone was with me the whole time, like someone was following me. Not in a creepy way, though—it felt nice, like I had a friend by my side... even though I couldn’t actually see them, just feel their presence... I kept wandering around and eventually ended up in the basement parking lot, and then walked toward the entrance of the main building. And that’s when "he" started talking to me. I was a little startled cause, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there

Now here’s where it gets interesting—but my memory was kind of fuzzy. The guy looked a lot like Leon Kennedy from the RE4 remake. I’m talking the whole look: dark blue shirt, jeans, the iconic hair. But his face was kinda blurry... Still, he sounded like Leon too, which was trippy. He said something, but I don’t remember exactly what. It was something about him being scared or maybe just relieved that I was with him? Whatever it was, I felt for him. I was like, "Aww, you’re so sweet... I’m gonna cry!"

And then… we hugged. And holy shit, it felt real. Like, I could feel everything... his body, how cold he was, and how my body was warming him up... I could feel his touch, his arms around me, the pats on my back, his chest rising as he breathed. I could even smell him... It was so real that I swear I was smiling in my sleep. The hug was so gentle, comforting, and full of love. But not like romantic or sexual love—something deeper. It felt like being truly appreciated, wanted, and loved in a way that just hit different... I could’ve cried.

That hug was so real, it actually woke me up. Man, I’ve never had a dream like that before. Most of my dreams end up turning into nightmares, where I’m being chased or hunted or some shit. But this one it was just… love. Pure and simple. Honestly, it’s probably my favorite dream ever, and I’m gonna remember it forever...

To that guy, whoever you were—thanks, man. I really appreciate you and that hug... Hope we meet again and hang out. I love you.

[sometimesrosy]

Top 5 strangest or most interesting things you had to research for your ghost written books? Your books your working on under your own name?

OOh fun.

The thing that immediately comes to mind for the ghostwriting is when I researched how to safely crash land an ultralight airplane that's been caught in a crazy storm and is about to slam into a mountainside.

Then I researched what it's like to be floating in the ocean after a crash and how you would go about rescuing someone who was floating in an ocean.

I do a LOT of researching of high end things, like food, clothes, resorts, locations, because my clients like billionaires. SO much research on appetizers and fancy meals but I kind of like that. Also for high fashion outfits. I write big galas into my stories so I can dress them in things I'd love to wear. I'm a bit of a fashion geek so it's like stuff I'd never be able to wear. or have a reason to wear. I also am a semi-gourmet cook and now I live a life where my kids won't eat foods that touch each other, you know? living vicariously through ghostwriting.

I've done a bit of researching on private eyes and all the things they use to investigate. But my ex husband was actually a literal private eye, so I use what he told me as my basis of knowledge. He was also a literal covert operative and before that a special forces dude. It went special forces->covert operative->ny detective->private detective. And he was a super dick, but I use my pain in my art, and I steal his stories for my ghostwriting. LOL.

I've done some research on historical houses and mansions and the such, as well as super modern architecture. I don't know if that's real interesting but I love that kind of stuff. The sports and adventure stuff is from a life I have no desire to live, so I have to research. I don't even know how to surf and I've never been out of sight of the shore although I do know a very little about sailing. There's so much I need to research on being a billionaire because baby I am not one. But I did go to a college with a lot of rich people, and I was a nanny to rich people, and I was a waitress in a world class city in a very rich neighborhood, so I use my knowledge of rich people adjacent life and rich people servant life to write about billionaires. And I pretend that real billionaires aren't actually like Elon Musk or the Walton "Walmart Employees Should Be On Welfare Rather Than Get A Living Wage" Family. We think of them as fairy tale princes, not soulless corporate villains. Yay romance!

As for my OWN books that I write.

I am fascinated by cephalopods. Fascinated. I have a cyborg alien that ends up being inspired by cephalopods. Octopi. Squid. It doesn't matter.

I've learned a little about the Solar System, including all the moons and asteroid fields and orbits and such, along with that, manners of space travel that might go faster than chug a chug chug. Like, we really have no way of getting to any other planet. They are thousands of light years away and we can't even travel at light speed.

Spaceships! I've researched possible spaceships and I love looking at floor plans or whatever those are called for ships. Shoot that's fun. It helps me see space.

I have to admit that I use today's political systems to build the political systems in the future worlds I create. Right now, the sf book I'm writing has two empires. They're both jackasses in different ways. One is fascist the other is barbaric. And I based them on the democrats and republicans. I used to think that villains should always be morally gray and complex and you should be able to consider them the hero of their own story. And the we elected president Trump and I was like, well hell! He's a freaking cartoon villain. We might as well just go with the dastardly mustache twirling.

I use a LOT of psychology in my books. I feel like, is that research? Because I'm already interested, but like I cast my mental net wide and learn about psychological things and put it into my 'to write characters' board on pinterest. Actually all my pinterest boards for my personal work are public (the ghostwriting is private but I do a lot of research there.) I've got writing tips, things about characters and villains and story as well as boards for my individual books. There are so many of them. I'm really behind on writing them tbh.

All my writing boards start with "to write..." because I found that was the best way to organize the subject. The end up being alphabetized and easier to find. The art boards start with 'art' the food boards with 'food,' etc. 'home,' 'style,' 'health,' https://www.pinterest.com/rowenamurillo/

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 13

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 13: The Apocalypse (But with More Bulls)

A group of children huddled together as they tried to escape the robotic drones that surrounded them in the ice cream shop. The streets were no longer safe as they had been filled with roaming Bull drones and they ripped and tore no matter what or who stood in their way. They hoped that they would be able to wait it out until help arrived, but they didn’t count on the drones coming into the building and finding them.

“AHHHHH!” They all screamed as the bulls began to leap at them.

SMASH! BASH! CRASH!

Their eyes widened as they saw the machines falling to the ground in bits and pieces until there was nothing left except for an ominous violet figure before them.

“S-s-stay away!” One of the older children nervously warned as she stood in front of them with her arms stretched out.

“Dude, he-she-they just saved our butts,” another child put a hand on her shoulder, “I think they are one of the good guys.”

“We don’t know that!” She argued.

“I mean, they are standing right there and haven’t attacked us yet sooo,” a younger girl pointed out. “Point in the good guy direction.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Wait, I know him!” They all snapped their heads to the youngest in their group as he ran up to the figure.

“Bao!”

“Wait!”

“Are you crazy?!”

“MAC MAC!” He grinned as he threw his body to him, “I am so happy you are here!”

The monkey said nothing as he caught the child and gently patted the child's head.

“Sooo, Imma go out on a limb here and say he's good,” said the girl with the prosthetic arm. She happily smirked at their groans.

“Oh yeah, he is my sister's former teacher, though I don’t think I've ever seen you like this,” he pondered.

“Clone,” the demon uttered.

“Clone?”

“Follow me,” he instead said as he walked to the door, “I’ll take you where it’s safe.”

“Really?”

“Awesome!”

“That’s a relief.”

“Can I bring some ice cream?”

The children all chatter with a bit more pep in their step as they trudge through the war torn streets and fallen buildings until they laid eyes on a set of buildings that looked relatively untouched by the madness surrounding them with a pristine white hospital building in the middle of it all. Some people were littered around the street, but when they stepped into the hospital it was a lot more hectic as not only doctors and nurses were bustling around trying to tend to as many wounded as they could. But there were also regular people trying to give a helping hand as they either did basic first aid to those who needed it or helped the staff collect the supplies they needed.

“Whoa,” they all collectively gape at the semi organized chaos inside.

“Bao!” The child looks to see Bohai's relieved expression, “thank the gods you and your friends are okay.”

“Mac Mac saved us,” he wiggled out of the monkey arms to get a hug from the jellyfish demon then he looked around the room. “Where’s Yanyu? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she was working when this all went down, so she is currently in the back taking care of a bunch of patients. Are you all alright?”

“Just scrapes and bruises,” one of the girls says as she covers the mouth of the one armed girl. “You are not making another missing arm joke, you hear me.”

“Fine,” she huffed then she grinned mischievously as she looked at Bohai, “so do you guys need a hand, I can only spare you one though.”

“For the love of-!”

“Stoppp!”

“Nooo!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she laughed at the agony.

“If you want to bring the staff some snacks and drinks, and yes I’m including everyone in this list, that would be awesome. They really need to pick me up right now,” he showed them to a small area where copious amounts of food and drinks were laid out. “People have been bribing them since this all started, but no one really had a break yet.”

“You can count on us!” The oldest girl saluted as she and the rest gathered snacks in their arms and began to spread out all through the hospital, except for Bao who was still holding onto the jellyfish. Even the clone Macaque had left had begun to venture through the hospital and began to help out a few patients.

“…is everyone else alright,” he whispered out in hesitation.

Bohai kneeled down and smiled, “I think they will be just fine, your brothers and sisters are smart after all. I know they will pull through.”

“Right,” he nodded and shared a grin.

“And we have people and demons looking for anyone who needs help,” that included his friends on the list as Daiyu took to the skies and over the seas, Minsheng and Ahmed took to the streets looking for stragglers, and Macaque leaping from building to building checking to see if there are any lingering people trapped inside. “So don’t worry about them, instead how about we focus on feeding some hungry people. I know how cranky they can get when their bellies are empty.”

“Like Yan Yan when she forgot to eat because she had a 30 hour shift and she tied us all up when we mentioned her leftover food in the fridge.”

“Exactly.”

“How does this keep happening to us!” Mei yelled out as she and MK were hanging onto the sword for dear life as they dangled above the pit of despair.

“I don’t know!” MK yelled too as he clung onto Mei’s legs. “How do we get down?!”

“I don’t know!” She adjusted her grip on the sword, “we are currently on our way to fight the Demon Bull King, one of Monkey King greatest enemies, with less than 2 weapons on us if you don’t count my daggers and your brass knuckles, the rest of our team still keeping the ones up top busy and-wait!” Mei’s eyes brighten, “not everyone!”

“Huh? Who?!”

“Macaque!” Mei could feel a breath of relief come through her, “he’s still in the city dealing with the other clones, but I think this warrants a higher attention.” If anyone, other than the Monkey King and MK, can stop the Bull King, it’s him.

“I don’t know,” MK flinched as Mei's head creaked to him and her eyes began to twitch.

“Oh no, we are so not doing this, I am calling fuzzbutt whether you like it or not,” she stated and she sucked in a deep breath.

“Wait,” he quickly climbed her and put his hands over her mouth, “we don’t need to call him, I can handle this.”

“Do you not see where we are?” She would emphasize their precarious situation, but she is currently holding onto the only thing that is stopping the both of them from becoming mush on the floor. “What is your problem with calling him for help?”

“Nothing,” he too quickly defended himself.

“Then you should have no problem if I call him.”

“You're not calling for him.”

I’m calling him.”

“No, you're not,” he argued.

“I am!”

“You're not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Not!”

“Am! Wait-dammit!” He cursed as he got tricked.

“Ha! I win, and I'm calling him!” Mei grinned.

MK was about to refute her when he saw a terrifying sight above them. “Noooo.”

She raised her eyebrow as she turned to see what he was looking at and she almost let go of her sword as she saw hundreds of deactivated Bull drones stationary all over the walls and mere meters from where they were at.

“Shit.”

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Mei’s phone buzzed quite loudly.

“Shit.”

Blue eyes lit up one by one as the drones quickly woke up at the sound as their heads all snapped towards the two lone humans.

“SHIT!”

“GHA!” Red son grunted out as he was flung back. He gritted his teeth as the sharp rocks pierced him, but he shakily stood up as he stood behind his mother, who was also silently huffing for air as the two of them faced down the enraged Bull King. He knew something was wrong, there had to be something, otherwise, his father wouldn't so carelessly nor even attempt to accuse the two of them of traitorous intent based on the barest of threads.

‘There has to be,’ he desperately thought as he silently looked at his hands and gripped it as it began to heat up. ‘But there is no defining evidence…I should have never taken that key.’ He regretted silently as they were once more prepared to go toe to toe with the Bull King when out of nowhere.

“AHHHHHHHH!” BOOM

MK lands face first into the ground.

“Noodle boy?!” What is he doing here?!

“Little thief,” Bull King hissed out as he then gripped his head and uttered. “Sun Wukong.”

Both he and his mother were startled by that admission as they couldn’t help but share a glance, as they passively watched Bull King begin his assault on the Monkey King successor.

Red son gritted his teeth as he watched his friend get pulverized by his father. ‘I have to do something, but what can I do? Something nefarious is afoot with father and yet I am standing here like a dame instead of helping MK. MK? No! No, I mean I have to help father snap out of whatever has come over him instead of beating upon my fri-noodle boy! Hurting noodle boy…he is hurting noodle boy…MK.” He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the horrifying sight of the rage filled demon looming over MK with his fists raised high in the air.

“NO!” He burst into flames and charged forward, but was stopped by his mother as she swiftly sent out two airstrikes to the Bull King and used her fan to sweep the boy away from his demise and plopped him down next to the both of them.

“Wha-” he groggily got up as he looked up in surprise at Princess Iron Fan.

“It’s the canister, they have driven him mad with power,” she said as she hatefully eyed the glowing blue canisters upon the Bull King back.

“Well that’s a problem,” he blinked as he saw the skeletal remains floating about in the sludge of energy.

Then in a feral-like fury where only instinct took full control of body rather than the mind, the Bull King had snarled at them and began to charge on all fours.

“All right,” he used his staff to pick himself up, “time for round 2.”

“No, we fight together,” the prince said in determination as he readied his stance and was about to charge once more when another voice echoed.

“Seems like you guys can use a hand,” their eyes widen as they see the Bull King sink into the ground as a massive transparent violent hand of energy crushed him.

“Dad/Macaque!” MK and Red son cried out in relief as Iron Fan said it a bit more calmly as MK continued. “How are you here?!”

“Jade rang for me,” the voice echoed out as it continued its struggle against pinning the demon down. “Said some interesting things too.”

Mei's hands twitched anxiously as she waited for any sign of MK. She had just finished cleaning up the rest of the drones in the caves, but she thought it best if she kept here in case there would be any bot or people trying to sneak in to aid the nefarious family. Yet, that didn’t stop her from wanting to go down there and help her friend, no matter how stupid or dangerous that may be.

“You know what, screw this. Sorry MK, but we need all the help,” she gave a quick apology as she sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “MACAQUUEEE!”

Her voice vibrated through the walls.

She knew that she could have easily called him on her phone and he would have come just as quick, but that didn’t really matter in the long run as he saw a dark figure leap his way over to her. “Took you long enough,” she said with a small grin as he phased into the mech.

“Sorry, the city is in chaos as you know,” Macaque sarcastically said as he eyed her state to see any injuries.

“I’m fine,” she quickly said, “but MK is down there fighting DBK!”

“What!” His golden eyes that were tinted with violet eyes snapped onto her light green ones as all six ears twitched.

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to tell you, but I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Don’t want me-no,” he stopped himself short before he could go deeper. “Putting that to the side, for now, bigger problems first. Will you be fine if I go to your idiot brother.”

“I am currently inside of a monkey mech,” she deadpanned, “I am more than fine.”

He shot her a smirk and ruffled her already messed up hair and sunk back into the shadows and began to move deeper into the pit.

“Ahaha, about that,” MK nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“We are talking about this later.”

“Yeah that’s fair,” he slumped down.

Then a figure leaped out from the shadows of the Bull King as the Bull King rapidly gained back its bearing and destroyed the hand pinning it down.

Macaque whistled, “Well, I thought that it would at least keep you down a little longer than that, but apparently I’m wrong.”

“It’s the canister!” MK yelled, “they’re amplifying his powers.”

“You don’t say,” he muttered as he eyed the glowing blue power of energy then stared at it a bit harder as something felt off about it. “Somethings not right.”

Princess Iron Fan raised an eyebrow at his comment but quickly pushed it aside as she readied herself. “We can save questions for later, right now we have to get those off of my husband.”

“Right,” he nodded and his eyes went back to the Bull King who was getting up, “alright anyone got a plan.”

“Both Red son and I shall distract him, while the two of you get that monstrosity off him,” she said.

“Gotcha, you ready comet,” he summoned a few of his clones.

MK hesitated before nodding as he put his staff forward, “born ready.”

Then, without warning, the rest of the royal family burst into action as the two attacked the Bull King in a rapid fire as he was suddenly surrounded by a huge fire tornado.

“YOU SHALL FALL TOGETHER!” He roared out as he dispersed it with a loud crackle of energy.

Both of them, who was very much still injured and winded from their already long fight, were pushed back as they fell into the rubble. They slowly tried to get up as the glowing King stomped his way towards them.

His form seemed to almost ripple in anticipation as he locked his glowing blue eyes on their downed forms. No hesitation in his steps as the voices in his head urged him to finally end the traitors.

End the traitors

Destroy them for their treachery

Build a kingdom worth your name

Let their bones turn into ashes

Let their blood soak into the ground

Let their flesh set a reminder

You are the true king

“Yesss,” he hissed out his agreement as he raised his arms to finish them (ignoring the heavy invisible restraint against his arm and a small voice yelling at him to stop.) He would end this now.

Then his head was hit by a rock.

He snarled as he turned to look at MK, who was still in a throwing position.

“Hey, guess I’m a better pitcher than a hitter!” He joked, but then yelped as he felt himself get caught in the Bull’s hand.

“I’ve had about enough of you, one would think that you would learn more of the little sage tricks,” he snarled.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he shrugged.

Bull King snarled as he proceeded to squeeze him until he was nothing but bones and blood.

“Wait! Wait!” He cried out until he poofed out in a golden light.

“What!” He shouted as he looked at the falling hair, “a clone!?”

“Yup!” He looked to see the real MK in mid-air, “and I didn’t learn little tricks from only the Monkey King,” he grinned as he summoned a hoard full of clones.

He snarled and was about to jump up to meet them when he felt his hooves and hands being grabbed, he looked down to see many Macaque clones holding him down, while some were grabbing his hands.

“Get ready for a nice wake up call,” the real Macaque smirked as he kept into the shadow to keep a steady supply of energy to his clones.

“HERE COMES MONKIE KID!” MK cried out as he and his clones proceeded to all out attack the Bull King until the canister was finally knocked off his back and with one final burst of energy, it had dispersed.

Freedom

Freedom

Gather back

Become one again

Vessel

Freedom

The black furred monkey felt a shiver running up his spine as he heard the voices ringing in his ears. He looked around and sure enough, it seemed that he was the only one who heard the ominous whispers.

‘That wasn’t a normal power madness,’ he concluded as he realized what really happened. Before he could tell the rest he felt a gust of wind come about as the three demons proceeded to leave.

“Are you serious?!” MK panicked as the rocks began to fall down all around them. “You really just left us here!”

“Honestly not surprised,” he shrugged his shoulder and grabbed his kid by the back of his shirt, “now come on and let’s get out of here before the rocks do us in.”

“How?!”

BOOM!

They looked to see a giant Monkey Mech burst in as Mei smiled at them.

“Everything went well! Need a lift?”

“Mei!”

“Nice timing Mushu.”

“That was some fight huh,” Sandy said as he ate his noodles on top of the giant mech with everyone else. “But we managed to stop DBK.”

“Nice job defeating him MK,” Tang grinned as he slurped up the remains of his bowl.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I really defeated him,” he muttered as he fiddled with his chopsticks. “There was something weird, that power he had just made him…different.”

“But we won right,” she looked on the bright side.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” the historian appeared over Pigsy's shoulder and was casually grabbing some noodles from his bowl. “You don’t need this right sugar.”

“Get your hands off my food!” He pulled away from his lover as everyone around them laughed.

Amid their exuberant energy, they haven’t quite realized that the area was almost desolate with anyone else, including animals and bugs that usually roam around here. The only animal anywhere near them was a bird that perched right on top of one of the outer rocks in the clearing. It seemed to be in a tranquil state as it took in the scene, so it spread its wings to fly off when a voice stopped him.

“You know you could have jumped down and talked to them instead of standing there like an actual creeper,” said Macaque as he emerged from the shadow.

The bird gave him wide eyes as he instinctively transformed back into his original form, “Didn’t really think I should just go in there when all is said and done,” Wukong said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Wow, it must have taken a long time to think about that with the way you were sitting there,” he rolled his eyes and leaned against the rock.

“I’m not that bad,” he muttered and settled back down on top of the rock.

“Could have fooled me with the number of times you have a stupid idea.”

“Oh like you haven’t had one.”

“I have my own fair share, but it doesn’t even pale in comparison to yours, should I bring up the Kinnara incident,” he smirked.

“How was I supposed to know that she would kick our ass for interrupting her song,” he grumbled.

“Your ass,” he emphasized, “I had the common sense to stay behind, one would think not to mess with a being whose own gaze can pierce through you.”

“Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“Well, you didn’t have something called survival instinct.”

“To be fair I had plenty of instincts, but I just chose to ignore it back then and thought she was a harmless target,” he then shuddered, “so many regrets that day.”

“Pfft,” he chuckled lowly and Wukong couldn’t help but join in. He knew he was very stupid back then and so much more impulsive and looking back on it now, it is rather funny. But the laughter couldn’t last forever as it then died down as the atmosphere turned into an awkward silence.

Both monkeys knew they were avoiding the bigger problem at hand, but neither wanted to bring that up. At the same time though, they couldn’t ignore it forever, and eventually one of them will have to make the first step soon.

So Macaque opened his mouth and said, “Well if you ever feel like leaving your mountain other than stalking my kid, the forest is always open.”

“Really,” his eyes widened.

‘You really want to see me again.’ The silent question was asked.

“It is a public area, though you might want to bring starlight along with you if you want to see the not so public sights,” he said with a shrug.

‘Yes, I do.’ Was the silent answer.

“I’ll definitely do that! Maybe sometime next week?” He couldn’t stop his smile from growing widely.

“That work, well I got to get back. Too much damn medicine to make and that’s with my clone's help,” he grumbled as he pushed back off the rock.

“See you then,” he said with a short wave.

Macaque flippantly waved his hand as he sank back into the shadows.

Wukong grinned as he watched his friend's aura travel through his shadows until he had reached the city limits. It was only then he turned back into his bird form and took off towards his mountain once more.

“So the hospital is really that backed up again,” MK asked as he sat on top of the rooftop with his dad the next day.

“Like a car side swiping a train,” he groaned as he laid down. “I just got done helping not even an hour ago.”

“I bet Yanyu had to drag you out,” the monkey successor snorted.

“Nah, she was snoring in the back room, she passed the fuck out a few hours back after a successful surgery,” he grinned in pride. His student has really come far since he first started teaching her and to think that she had doubts about her ability, now look at her working alongside the attending physicians. He can still remember her running towards him and lunged at him with utter joy on her face when she told him that she passed her qualifying exam. He is really proud of her.

“She deserves it,” he nodded.

“She does,” the monkey hummed as he got up, “but I think it’s time we talk about that little thing back in the cave.”

MK nervously straightened up as he scratched the back of his neck, “hahaha what do you mean?”

“You are still a terrible liar comet, why didn’t you call me,” he looked him in the eyes.

“I was going to,” he mumbled, not sounding at all convincing.

“Really,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

MK tried to keep a straight face, but it didn’t last long as he groaned and put his face in his hands, “Alright fine I wasn’t! But I could have handled it! You're always there and I know I can count on you, but something I need to do by myself. I’m not a child anymore.”

“And I know your not, and I have tried my best to not hound on you,” he said then he let out a sigh, “believe me when I say that I know I worry a little too much-”

“A little?!” Mei shouted as she lifted the hatch up.

“Mei! How long have you been there?!” The twenty years old shouted.

“Hehehe, long enough,” she nervously giggled as she slowly climbed out and sat next to her brother. She had forgotten she was eavesdropping on them and just had to blurt out. “Kinda forgot, but I still stand by my point.”

“I know, I mean ever since you left I've been trying to hold back from outright following you around,” he reluctantly said, not even blinking an eye at Mei’s sudden appearance.

“And I'm glad you haven’t, Mei already has a tracker on all of us,” he shot a glare at his sister.

“Wait really?”

“Yes siree!”

“…I feel like I should talk to you more about that kind of stalking,” he eyed her as he was forcibly reminded of another monkey and his stalking.

“Have you seen the number of times we unintentionally get into weird situations, let alone the times we actively seek it out?” She deadpanned.

“And I take that back,” he retracted his words. “But regardless, I trust you Starbright. I trust you even when I want to scoop both you and your sister up and hide you away from the world. But when shit like this happens, I get fucking worried cause that could have ended in a complete disaster, you understand?”

“But it didn’t!” He protested.

“But it could have,” he shot back and leaned in close, “and I’m so fucking grateful that it didn’t. Cause what if something did happen and the both of you wound up biting more than you could chew, fuck the two of you could have died and I wouldn’t have known shit until I saw your corpse.”

“I-I,” MK didn’t know what to say as he lowered his head alongside Mei. Both teenagers were at a loss of words at the reality of the situation, especially MK.

Macaque took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh as he brought both children close to him, “Look, I trust you to take care of yourself, but if you think you land in a situation you can’t handle, please call me. I know I sound repetitive at this point, but I stand by my fucking word that I will come, okay.”

Both of them looked up to meet their dad’s concerned eyes and nodded.

“You got it,” Mei smiled and leaned further into his fur.

“Okay,” MK sniffed as cuddled closer to him.

The black furred monkey smiled down at both of them and gave them each a kiss to the forehead and silently watched the bustling city below just a little longer.

“I’m fine my queen,” Bull King grumbled as he walked through the cave. “I sustained only minor injuries.”

“I know you have, but you were overtaken by a sinister energy source that managed to drive you mad with power that put your meridians past the point of exhaustion,” she deadpanned. “You need to rest.”

“It still doesn’t make sense how such a source can overtake father's mind,” Red son muttered as he looked through an ancient book. “I have heard tales of items having power from their previous owners and using it to their own design, but never of just raw aura. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You're not wrong spitfire,” they turned to see Macaque phasing out from the shadow of a rock.

“Six Eared Macaque,” Bull King grumbled before he suddenly caught a bag that was thrown at him. “What is-”

“Spiritual roots from the Kunlun Peak, brew those in tea and they should help your median lines get back into condition before the month is up,” the monkey said as he walked closer.

“This is most useful, I will transfer the money-” Macaque cut her off.

“Consider this repaying the favor of saving my son Raki.”

“If I had not attempted to harm your child in my plight of madness there would be no need for this,” DBK gritted out and slightly lowered his head. He knew that the slight of offense of their agreement was on him and his mad conquest of power, if the Six Eared Macaque declared retribution for his actions then he would have to honor his word. What the outcome will be for both sides remains a mystery.

“Yeahhh what you did was stupid, but that’s actually what I came down to talk to you guys about,” he patted Red Son on the shoulder, “your kid is right about the power madness, what happen to you was not that.”

“What?” Both father and son blurted out.

“Explain,” the mother's eyes narrowed as her hand twitched.

“You were being possessed by one bitch of a spirit, what kind, I don’t know, but I do know the signs of possession when I see one.”

“How?”

“Was the different colored glowing eyes not obvious enough? His spouts of madness? Him going completely feral? Whatever you guys found is powerful, powerful enough to influence you BK.”

There was a silence as the surreal announcement enveloped them then someone growled as two craters appeared on the walls.

“Who dares think they have the audacity,” Queen Iron Fan hissed out as the wind began to swirl around her.

“I swear when I find the leech who manipulates me, I will tear their body limb from limb, bone to bone, blood into ashes and let their soul never find rest,” the King growled out in utter hatred.

Prince Red Son said nothing as sparks of fire flickered on and off around different corners of the cave and his hand trembled with fury.

The Royal Bull family does not take lightly to insults upon their names. They are known for sparking dread within people, making those fall to their feet, being a symbol of fear and power spread all through the nation and someone had the insolence to try to not only take control of their King but even fucking dare try to rip the family apart and kill them under his own hands?

They shall feel their wrath, this they declare.

“Well I have my message out of the way,” he wasn’t even fazed by their spirited anger, “Red a word.”

This snapped the prince out of his fury as he walked over to his pseudo uncle, “How may I help you?”

“Not me per say, but certainly my two kids who are worried the hell for you.”

“Their okay right,” he quickly questioned as he knew MK was alright but hadn't seen signs of Mei.

“A little bruised up, but they had worse, but my advice to you kiddo is talk to them. They have been worried out of their minds and I’m sure whatever you might have done they’ll forgive you.” He knew that Red Son wasn’t talking to them out of some sort of self doubt and guilt, but he wasn’t about to pry into what he did.

“You really think so?”

“You’ll have to ask them yourself.”

“…I will,” he nodded, “Thank you.”

“No problem, but let me tell you that since I have known you for a long time and I know you wouldn’t do abuse trust so lightly, especially from people you give a shit about, I’ll let you off with a light warning,” his eyes began to faintly glow a light violet color, “I may not know what you did, but don’t try to maliciously deceive them again, okay.”

“Yes sir,” he immediately said.

“Good boy,” he smirked and ruffled his hair, “now stop fucking around and send them a text before I duct tape their mouths myself.”

“They’ve been that bad?”

“I almost sicced Daiyu on the both just so they could do something else other than complain,” he deadpanned.

“…full permission to do the same if they get past that point,” he smirked.

“You don’t need to even ask me.”

“Yes!” He excitedly pumped his fist.

[happyandticklish]

New Beginnings

Notes: For the request by @yellowbakyura. I’m not super familiar with this ship, hence why this took so goddamn long, but I like the result! It was super interesting to write their dynamic! Thanks for sending in the request and I hope you enjoy! ^^

Summary: Masaomi tries to clear his mind and ends up running into an old friend. 

Walking the city at night was a habit Masaomi had fallen into semi-accidentally. At first, it had been to meet up with Erika and Walker, who were always up to something, regardless the time of day. After a while, he continued going out even if it was without them, enjoying the way the world quieted once the sun fell. Though Ikebukuro was never truly silent, people bustling about the city with tasks of business and pleasure at all hours of the day, there was a kind of unity that the night brought.

It was nice to know that no matter how much time had passed, Ikebukuro was Ikebukuro. A city full of people making connections and gaining heartbreaks, where each moment could be an adventure if you let it. He had always loved that chaotic atmosphere, even now, years later. It was difficult to believe he had graduated just last year. Soon, he would be off to university, an exciting new life ahead of him.

Mikado had already left for home, and Anri was off abroad, her grades landing her a soaring success of scholarships. Eventually, only Masaomi was left. He still hadn’t decided where he was going, and the clock only seemed to tick faster as he struggled to decide. So he had decided to fall back onto an old tradition to help clear his mind.

That night, he strolled around Central Park, his hands interlocked behind his head. He took a seat by the fountain, kicking his legs up and curling them under himself. Around him were a variety of couples conversing under the cover of darkness, as well as several rambunctious teenagers joking and shoving each other perilously close to the water.

Masaomi sighed, leaning back on the cold foundation, a grateful relief from the heat of summer. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

“You know, it’s not safe to leave yourself so vulnerable in such a dangerous city. Who knows what kind of creeps you could run into?”

Masaomi’s eyes snapped open, his heart slamming against his chest at the familiar voice. Izaya Orihara stood on the ledge of the fountain behind him, peering down into his face with that serene, cat-like smile of his. It managed to somehow be both pleasant and menacing at the same time.

“The only creep I have to worry about is you,” Masaomi responded dryly, pretending like the other’s presence hadn’t just sent him into cardiac arrest.

“You wound me.” Izaya’s hands were shoved into his pockets, and Masaomi briefly wondered how he could be wearing something like that with the current weather. “I thought you considered me a friend.”

“I have friends. They don’t insist on treating my life like it’s some amusing game.”

“But isn’t that all life is? A game without rules, where winning can sometimes be the same thing as losing. It’s all about perspective, my dear Ma-sa-o-mi!”

“Don’t say my name like that—it’s weird.”

Masaomi sighed. Of all the people to run into, why did it have to be him? Right now he needed clarity, and for as long as he’d known him, Izaya had always provided the opposite of that. He had never met a single more confusing or frustrating individual as the man peering curiously down at him now. He could feel the age-old excitement buzzing in his limbs despite this. Izaya meant danger and risks, dancing through life on a dagger’s edge. It was addicting and terrifying all at once, a contradiction Masaomi had never been able to sort out inside himself.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Izaya asked, taking a seat besides the other. His legs were tucked tightly underneath himself, far away from risk of falling in the fountain. Masaomi smirked, just slightly. “Shouldn’t you be spending your time with you friends, during these last days of freedom?”

“And what about you?” Masaomi shot back defensively. “You’re alone too, you know.”

“I’m never alone,” Izaya corrected, tossing an affectionate glance at the citizens enjoying the park, unaware of the shark amongst their midst. “I have all of humanity to entertain me. I find they make much better company than friends. After all, it’s impossible to know who others truly are when you constantly endeavor to see the best in them.”

Masaomi narrowed his eyes. Typical cryptic bastard. Still, tonight he found he didn’t mind it. It was a comfort to hear his nonsensical poetry; it helped to drown out the current thoughts plaguing his mind. “That’s something someone with no friends would say.”

“How cruel,” Izaya intoned, smirking lightly. “I forgot about that attitude of yours. You should work on that, if you want people to like you. Lighten up, you know?”

“People do like me—ah, hey!” He jerked back as Izaya poked him suddenly, a playful, harmless jab. The latter’s eyes widened as he registered the extreme reaction. “What was that for?”

“Interesting,” Izaya mused, poking him again. Masaomi drew his knees up protectively, leaning away from the other. “I never knew you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” Masaomi said immediately. He didn’t like the way Izaya was looking at him, like a predator that had just found its prey. It made his insides squirm, not unpleasantly. Still, he knew this game. Give Izaya an inch and he’d take a full three miles before he gave up. He forget how it was to have those eyes, slanted and inquisitive, targeted at him. “And who just goes around poking people?”

“Lying will get you nowhere.” Izaya was undeterred by the other’s protective position, merely grabbing his leg instead. “Your denials only make me more sure of my assumption.”

“Wha—hey!” Masaomi flailed, just narrowly catching himself and avoiding falling in the fountain. He glared at the other, attempting to jerk his leg back, but found the other’s hold stronger than he originally thought. It was easy to forget how strong Izaya could be when he was so often in comparison to Shizuo. “What are you doing?!”

“Proving a point,” Izaya replied simply, sliding off his shoe like it was nothing and dropping it besides them on the ground. “This will provide ample payback for your earlier comment, don’t you agree? Now, where to start?”

Masaomi clamped his mouth shut when Izaya dragged a lone finger up his sole, his toes curling instinctively. He cursed himself for the reaction, giving himself away before they’d hardly started. It was strange how little defense his socks gave him as Izaya gently scratched the area with a precision that was altogether unfair.

“H-Hnrgh,” Masaomi grunted, attempting to hold back the giggles building in his throat. “I-Izaya!”

“I never realized you were so sensitive!” Izaya marveled, adding more fingers into the mix that crawled up his soles teasingly. Masaomi yelped, jerking hard on his trapped leg. Goosebumps prickled down his arms, as though his foot had a direct link to the rest of the nerve endings in his body. “You should’ve told me earlier—I’ve been missing out on all the fun.”

“T-This ihis exactly w-why, I—ah—heh, d-dihidn’t tell you!” Masaomi covered his face, hoping to hide the blush spreading rapidly across his features. “Izaya!” he squawked suddenly when fingernails skittered teasingly under his toes. “Thahat tihihickles!”

“Well, I should hope so,” Izaya said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he glanced back at the other. “I am tickling you after all.”

Masaomi grinned, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest. “S-Shuhuhut uhuhup!”

“And why should I do that when you give such wonderful reactions whenever I do the opposite?”

This was ridiculous. Masaomi was being ridiculous. After all these years, and still, Izaya knew all the best ways to get under his skin. Old memories were cropping up of hands clapping down firmly on his shoulder, a teasing grin, and those eyes that shot right through you until you couldn’t think anymore.

Masaomi cursed himself internally. He was older now. Smarter. A different person. He was supposed to be preparing for the next stage in his life, choosing who he wanted to represent as a living creature in the vast cosmos, and yet, all he could think about was some stupid high school crush.

People were staring, but not that much. It wasn’t unusual to see strange things in Ikebukuro. He could hear the name Izaya Orihara floating around with notes of surprise, but no one intervened. Masaomi was almost glad for it. It would have been far too embarrassing to have a stranger approach him like this, giggling and squirming like a fool over tickling, of all things.

“What’s wrong? Nothing to say?” He was loving this. The goddamn bastard was soaking this up and Masaomi was going to kill him right after he stopped getting the urge to tackle him to the ground and kiss him until Izaya was just as breathless as him. “You’re usually so talkative. Could it be that you’re too ticklish to withstand something as simple as this? I mean, it’s almost funny—I’m hardly touching you.”

Masaomi squeaked, falling backwards against the marble. “Nahahaha, y-yohohou—fuhuhuhuck!”

“Maybe you like it,” Izaya guessed cheerfully. Masaomi’s toes appeared to be a particularly bad spot, and so he concentrated his efforts there, prying them back with one hand to get better access. Masaomi’s laughter went up several octaves at the new technique, his squirming growing more desperate. “That must be it. Little Masaomi likes to be tickled and he can’t admit it, so he resorts to saying nothing instead, is that it?”

“Nahahahat lihihihittle!” Masaomi protested, his face growing redder if that was even possible. Whether it was because of Izaya’s teasing words or the truth behind them, he couldn’t say. Possibly both.

“Oh? That’s not a denial, you know. Well, if you really do like this, I suppose my only option is to keep going. But these socks are really getting in the way, don’t you think?” Izaya frowned, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Masaomi’s breath hitched when he felt Izaya’s fingers slipping under his sock, nails grazing the skin teasingly as he pulled it off. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, and before he could help himself instinct took over. His free foot connected with Izaya’s back, startling him into letting go. However, Masaomi had underestimated the strength he had put into the kick, and they both watched in surprise as Izaya went tumbling into the fountain with a strangled yelp.

Masaomi took a deep breath, still giggling slightly as he sat up. He rubbed his foot against the fountain’s edge, trying to relieve himself of the phantom tickles running through his nervous system. Once he had collected himself slightly, he glanced over at the other only to almost lose it all over again at the sight.

Izaya sat blinking in surprise, his pants soaked through and his jacket floating besides him. His hair fell into his eyes, pasted there by the water. Any semblance of dignity he had held before was gone now. He noticed Masaomi’s face and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I thought you wanted me to laugh?” Masaomi shot back, unable to help his delighted grin. To see the great Izaya Orihara in such a manner, drenched and shell-shocked after falling on his ass, was something he had never thought he would witness, though he was immensely glad he had.

Izaya glared at him, his cheeks dusted a faint shade of pink. “You are an insufferable brat.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

Izaya stared as a hand was outstretched towards him, Masaomi’s friendly features on the other side. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you out, obviously,” Masaomi replied, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, just take it. I don’t bite.”

Izaya watched him suspiciously for a moment, before reluctantly accepting his hand. Masaomi pulled him out, the other’s pants sloshing comically as he stood up. Izaya sat down, shedding his jacket in disgust as he stared at the dripping mess. “It’s ruined.”

“It’s just water.”

“You weren’t the one that fell in the fountain.”

“It was an accident! Besides, you were the one tickling me!”

“It’s not my fault you’re that ticklish.”

Masaomi flushed. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.”

Masaomi did not remember consciously deciding to lean over and kiss the other, only that once he had it was everything he had imagined it to be. Izaya’s lips were soft, and they parted under Masaomi’s in surprise. For a moment, everything was wonderful.

And then Masaomi opened his eyes and noticed Izaya’s shocked expression.

Shit.

Masaomi jerked back, flailing awkwardly in his attempt to slide off the fountain. “I’m sorry! That was weird! I’m weird. Fuck. I don’t know why I did that. I’m just gonna… go… now… yeah.” He nodded furiously, snatching up his shoe and whirling around, not even bothering to put it on before he ran off.

His heart felt like it was gonna explode outside of his chest, and he couldn’t decide between imploding with joy or panic. Going to the park was supposed to help clear his mind, and it was anything but clear now. Why did he decide to do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Several yards away, Izaya sat staring after him, his fingers pressed delicately against the spot where Masaomi’s lips had been a moment before.

He smiled softly.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent. 

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth. 

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship. 

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style. 

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling. 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare. 

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling. 

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed. 

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined. 

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly. 

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

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

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw. 

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking. 

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper,  covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town. 

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up. 

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-”  He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone. 

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

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch. 

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

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

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep. 

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise. 

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold. 

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.” 

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her. 

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno. 

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air. 

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

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

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best. 

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. 

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing. 

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards. 

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates. 

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company. 

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously  registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.” 

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame. 

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider. 

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs. 

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee. 

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck” 

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right. 

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body. 

“More, please, god that all feels so good.” 

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes. 

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans. 

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back. 

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass. 

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back. 

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

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

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door. 

[thepeacetea]

The Past that Made the Future

Hey guys! So, um, here’s a new story. This will probably stay a one-shot, but here you go. Hope ya’ll enjoy! Peace!!

He was suppose to protect her. He promised he would. He promised her, and now she was gone, all because he couldn’t keep his promise. He swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, to the only person that was able to bring light back into his life and now she was gone. All because he couldn’t protect her. Because he wasn’t strong enough, or fast enough. He should have taken the bullet. If he hadn’t frozen on seeing the gun that madman had, his firecracker would still be here. She would be safe. She would still be here. But he froze, and now she was gone.

It was almost a year now. Almost a year since she was killed. Since his life spiraled out of control. Since everything came crashing down around him. As the minutes ticked on, drawing closer to the time of her death, he remembered.

11:40

The first time they met was unforgettable. He quite literally fell for her. He was running late for one of his classes at Gotham University of Art, Science and Technology. Sprinting down the stairs, his nose buried in one of his textbooks, there was no way he could have seen the small girl running up the stairs. One second, he was running down the stairs and the next, he was free falling.

Bracing himself for the collision with the unforgiving floor, he was instead met with a softer landing, promptly followed by the sound of something snapping. Sealing himself, he waited the pain to come, but five seconds past and no pain came. And then the ground shifted, groaning in pain. His eyes few open, locking on the soft ‘floor’ beneath him. To his horror, a tiny girl lay under him, face twisted in pain. The shutter of a camera snapped him out of  his horrified trance. Scrabbling off the girl, his apology came out in a incoherent, jumbled mess.

“I - I am so - are you - please tell me your - I didn’t mean - I wasn’t looking and – do you need - I mean,” He tried to say, to many things pushing to the forefront of his mind and his mouth couldn’t decide what to say first. The students surrounding them could only snicker at they young Wayne’s mishap. Many of them relishing in the accident if only to have some dirt on the young heir.

“I – I think my arm’s broken.” Groaned the girl, who was gingerly trying to sit up, cradling her right arm.

Those words sent him in a bigger panic. He not only knocked a girl over, landing on her, but he also broke her arm.

“I- I’ll take you to a hospital. Do you think you can stand?” he asked, frantically searching for his keys.

“I- I think so. Do, do you have anything I could use as a sling, to support it? She asked, shift the weight of her arm slightly.

Tearing off his over shirt, he did his best to make a semi-comfortable sling for the girl. As he finished with the last knot, he glanced up, meeting her eyes for the first time, his breath catching. One of the most stunning pair of serine blue eyes stared back at him, studying him.

“Let- let’s get you to a hospital.” He managed to say, forcing the words out from the constriction in his throat.

They somehow managed to get to his Jaguar without aggravating the girls arm any farther. The ride to the hospital was tense. His mouth couldn’t seem to shut up, he couldn’t keep track of what he was saying as he tried to focus on the road and the condition of the girl beside him.

“Hey, listen. It’s ok. I don’t blame you, ok. It was an accident. It could’ve happened to anyone. But I need you to breath ok. Can’t have you passing out on me in the car.” She said, snapping him out of his panic state of mind.

“I- I fell on you, in front of the whole school! I broke your arm! How are you not mad at me?”

“One, it could have happened to anyone and if those people say otherwise, they’re jerks! Second, it’s not the first time I broke something, and knowing my track record, it will not be the last. Third, you already apologized, so you can stop, because like I said, it was an accident and I forgive you. And fourth, I think I may be able to get out of some assignments with a broken arm!” She said, laughing at the last reason.

The sound of her laughter caught him off guard. Not only was she not mad, but she was laughing it off. Just who was this girl?

“I’m Marinette by the way,” she said, almost as if she read his mind, extending her uninjured arm to shake his hand. Glancing at her for a second, he saw a friendly, welcoming smile adoring her round face as her eyes twinkled with a light that he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Bruce,” he said, reaching over to grasp her hand, slightly surprized at the strength of her grip.

“Well Bruce, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

 She had been right about that. In the six weeks she was wearing the cast, Bruce insisted that he help her. He even went so far as to sit in on some of her classes just he could help her take notes. He had never been one to warm up to anyone quickly, even when his parents were alive. But this girl, Marinette, there was something about her that drew him in.

She had always known what to say to him, even if he didn’t want to hear it. She was always there for him, and in time, he learned to stand up for himself and for others.

11:45 p.m.

“ . . . and I wasn’t getting any inspiration, like nothing. So I decided to climb on my roof, you know, to get a look at the stars and skyline and get some fresh air. While I was up there, looking over the city, I saw something fly through the night. I couldn’t tell what they were, and then one of them flew through the light. They were bats! And I watched them glide through the night, I suddenly go hit with this . . . wave of inspiration.” Marinette told him as they walked through the halls. They planned on getting lunch between their classes, and she was using their time to fill Bruce in on what had inspired her latest work. While he wasn’t . . . fond of the night terrors, he was impressed by his friend’s designs.

As they passed on of the chemistry labs, raised voice floated through the air, causing the duo to pause.

“ . . . simple freak, just do our assignments and we’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

Bruce knew that voice, Graham Alexander Towers the III. A spoiled rich brat whose family came from old money.

“Look, I’m not g-going to do your assignments anymore. I- I don’t have enough time to do my assignments.” a nervous voice countered, but it was so soft and low that Bruce almost didn’t hear it. Harsh laughter cut off whatever the other person was saying as the others cawed.

“You hear that boys, the coward thinks he has a back bone. Listen freak, unless you want to scared of turning corners, then you do it. After all, being scared is all your good at.” Towers sneered.

“And I suggest you develop a health dose of fear, cause once Pr. Adam’s finds out that you’ve not only been bullying someone else to complete your assignments but also threatening his top student, well, let’s just say that it’s not gonna be pretty.” Bruce’s voice cut through the chemistry lab, startling the occupants.

Spinning around, Graham locked eyes with Bruce, and for a few long moments, no one moved. The two heirs held each other’s gaze, Graham with ill hidden anger and Bruce with smug satisfaction.

“Wayne.” Graham spat.

“Towers,” Bruce countered politely, like they were discussing the weather. “I highly suggest that if you don’t want Pr. Adam’s to find out, then you leave him alone. If you try anything like this again, lets just say that the Towers’ name will be a little more mared then before. After all, the press will jump at the chance to do a story about how the Graham Alexander Towers the III was bullying a top student at G. A. to do his homework. It’ll be pretty and I don’t think your father will be very happy about that. I mean, he barely kept your last scandal under wraps.”

Graham considerable paled at those word. Wisely, for once, he kept his mouth shut and just stormed out, muttering curses under his breath. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Bruce turned to the other man in the room, who was looking at him with ill concealed awe.

“You’re Crane, right?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, yes, I’m Jonathan Crane. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne. Thank you for that.” Jonathan said, shaking Bruce’s hand with enthusiasm.

“Bruce is fine, and don’t mention it. I’ve seen your work. You’re a top chem. student and I would hate for you to not reach as far because of Towers. Keep up what you’re doing, cause I have a feeling you’re going to do something big someday and blow Gotham out of the water.” He said, sending the young man a smile before leaving only to run into Marinette, who he had left outside the classroom. The last thing he wanted was for her to become a target of Towers. Heaven knows that family has it out for the Wayne’s. The look she gave him made him slightly self-conscious.

“What?”

“You’re a good guy, Bruce. A really good guy. I’m proud of you.” She said before turning on her heels leading them back down the hallway, leaving a stunned and flustered Wayne behind.

 When he defended Jonathan Crane, it had been an impulse decision, but that marked the beginning of a change in Bruce. He was no longer the quite boy who didn’t pay attention to others. He started standing up for others more after that. He became a force you didn’t want to cross, especially if you crossed someone he cared about. That became very evident at the first gala he took Marinette to.

11:55 p.m.

The night started out amazingly, though Marinette had been a nervous wreck on the way to the gala, but once she stepped through the doors, everything changed. She practically light up when she saw the interior of the building. High archways, pillars of black marble, gothic architecture, the place screamed beauty. Everyone was curious of the girl the Wayne heir had brought as his plus one. They all knew how closed of the boy could be, so the fact that he even had a date was a shock to the upper class. But when they saw they Asian beauty he had on his arm, they were blown away. Compared to Bruce’s 6’2” frame, the girl’s 5’6” with heels, looked so small and fragile.

The women, once they saw the girl’s dress, instantly started flocking to her, asking who designed it. The black, off the shoulder dress, had a fitted bodice with a high-low skirt, something that wasn’t common. The front ended a little above the knees, while the back spread out behind her. the inside of her skirt was a beautiful blood red, creating a stunning contrast. But what really caught everyone’s attention was the fact that if you looked at the dress, especially the skirt, it looked like a bat. Like one hanging upside down, ready to fly. The pure creativity and beauty of it was mind blowing. When they discovered that she was the designer, she had nearly half the gala coming with requests to commission her for the next gala.

It was around halfway through the party that Towers got drunk and forgot exactly who he was dealing with. He had been getting a little handsy with most of the single ladies there, and all of them rather enjoyed the attention they were receiving from the heir of one of the richest and oldest families in Gotham. But he made the mistake of putting his hands where they shouldn’t have been. On the Asian beauty Bruce brought. One second he was trying to sweet talk her into one of the side rooms to ‘get acquainted better’ and the next he was on the ground with a bloody nose.

“What the hell, Bruce!” Towers yelled, shooting the man in question a glare as he  desperately tried to stop the blood dripping from his nose

“Keep. Your. Hands. To. Yourself.” Bruce growled out, not so subtle putting himself between Marinette and Towers.

“Why should I? None of the other girls seemed to mind. Besides, she should be grateful someone of importance and influence showed any interest in her.” Towers shot back, not noticing the growing rage that radiated off the young Wayne. Nor did he take stock in the glare he received as he stood, meeting it with a mocking smile as he sent the girl behind Bruce a wink.

Suddenly, Bruce grabbed Towers coat laps in a crushing grip, hauling him uncomfortable close. It was only then that he felt a twinge of fear. He had never seen Bruce angry. Ever. And by the looks of the crowd, neither had anyone else.

“Let me make this clear to you, and I’ll use simple words so you can understand. Mari doesn’t need any ‘help’ from you. She never has and never will. And if I catch you trying anything like this with my girlfriend, well, we’ll find out who the real prince of Gotham is. So let me say this one more time. Keep. Your. Hands. Off. My. Girlfriend! Do I make myself clear?” Bruce growled out, his blue eyes, which had always been soft, guarded, and compliance, were blazing with such an intensity that startled everyone. He looked like an actual Wayne, and it made the other families nervous. They knew, all too well, how much power the Wayne name carried in Gotham alone, not mentions the rest of the America or the world. If they had to describe a Wayne in one word, it would be dangerous.

All Towers could muster was a shaky nod of understanding. Even drunk, he knew better than to disagree. Stumbling when he was suddenly released, Towers watched as Bruce shot him one last look that promised retaliation if he broke his word before gently grabbing the girl’s hand muttering ‘Let’s go’. The crowd parted as he lead the two of them out, everyone watched as Bruce tucked the girl against his side, leaving a certain level of chaos and shock in his wake.

“So . . . girlfriend?” Marinette asked as Bruce drove them back to the manor.

Bruce could only flinch at her word. He had hoped that she hadn’t caught that part, not that she couldn’t have considering that everyone in the vicinity had heard him, but he could always hope. Glancing over at the person who he could truly call his best friend, only to find her facing the window, chin propped on her hand as she watched the city past them by. He couldn’t read her, and that scared him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, let alone feeling. But as the city lights flickered over her features, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling. He loved her. He was so in love with her that it hurt. She was his friend, the first real friend he could remember. She made him feel safe and cared for. He didn’t have to attempt to portray an image for her. Heck, she didn’t even care about his name. To her, he was just Bruce, the awkward boy she had met on the first day of university who happened to break her arm. She had changed him, and he couldn’t thank her enough. But that friendship, that platonic love had turned into something more for him. He wanted more. He wanted to be more with her, but he didn’t want to risk what they had. He couldn’t lose his best friend. He couldn’t . . .

“Because if you mean it, and I mean, really mean it, well, I wouldn’t object to it. I. . . I like you, Bruce. More then a friend should, and I don’t know where to go from here.” She said, cutting through Bruce’s spiraling thought.

For a moment, his brain shut down. She liked him? Marinette? The girl with the most creativity Bruce had ever seen? The girl whose culinary skills were the only one’s that made Alfred’s pale in comparison? Who always smelled of sugar and spices? Who, no matter how much she had on her plate or what she was doing, would drop everything if her friends needed help? The girl who was the only real person Bruce had ever met?

“ W-well, in that case, would . . . would you like to go on a date with me?” Bruce asked, stuttering over his. The seconds that followed where the longest of his life, there was no going back now.

“I would love to.”

 The months that followed where the best of his life, and there was nothing he would have done differently. If he thought that he had been happy before, he had never been so wrong in his life.

11:56

It was six months after they started dating. Six month of pure bliss. Sure, they argued like any couple, but Bruce would change anything they had. Though their arguments were few and far between, every time he saw her angry, even when it was directed at him, he could help but notice how beautifully terrifying she was. She honestly reminded him of a firecracker. Beautiful when exploding but none the less deadly if not handled correctly.

They were walking around the manor grounds, simple enjoying one of the last summer day’s before classes started again. One of the things Bruce noticed since dating his firecracker was that she had an almost unusual love for nature. Every chance she could get, she would be out in the gardens or parks, simple enjoying the feeling of being outside. So they walked through the garden, with the late summer flowers in full bloom lending an enticing fragrance, Bruce couldn’t think of any other place he would rather be.

Glancing over at Marinette, Bruce couldn’t help but stare. Seeing her in the garden, surrounded by the flowers she helped plant, she never looked more beautiful. In the late afternoon sun, her hair, which had always been so dark, light up to a gorgeous midnight blue framed by the small flower crown of daisies. Her cut-off jean shorts paired with slightly oversized tee-shirt and bare feet gave her such an innocent look that Bruce couldn’t imagine living without her.

“Marry me.”

Bruce wasn’t even aware he had actually said that until Marinette turned around, her eyes blown wide in shock.

“What?”

“Marry me. Mari, I cant live without you. You brought light back into my life. I wasn’t living until I met you, I was merely surviving. You showed me life was meant to be so much more. With you, I feel like I can be somebody worthwhile. And I know that everyone will say we’re too young and that we don’t know what love is, but I know, Mari, I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have a family with you. So, will you allow me the honor of becoming your partner, your protector? Will you marry me?” He asked, gently taking her hands, laying his heart out for her to either take or turn away.

Tears sprung into the eyes, causing the serene blue to sparkle as diamonds. For a split second, he thought she was going to say no, but it was only a second before she launched herself into his arms, crying with the most beautiful smile etched on her face.

“YES!! YES!! A thousand times yes!”

She had moved into the manor a week later. Bruce loved waking up next to her. To smell of her hair and the warmth of her body. He loved the feeling of curled against him, how her head fit perfectly into his shoulder.

11:57

It had a week since he had been home and Bruce couldn’t wait to get back to his own bed and he fiancé. But instead of an excited fiancé greeting him, he was greeted with the unusual sight of empty boxes. And when he said boxes, he meant that the entire entrance was full of empty boxes. The sound of music could be heard coming from one of the upper floors. Following the sound of Summer of 69, Bruce found Marinette dancing while painting one of the many unused room. Leaning against the doorframe, Bruce just watched his firecracker for the duration of the song as she continued to dance and belt out the lyrics to her favorite song. Watching her being so carefree brought a sweet smile to his face.

“Painting?” he asked once the song finished. Whipping around, her hair smacking her in the eyes as red paint flew from her brush. She looked at him startled for a second before her face light up.

“Bruce, your home!” was his only warning before a paint covered Marinette plowed into him. Laughing, he caught her with ease while planting a sweet kiss on her disheveled hair.

“I missed you too, Mar. Though mind telling me what you’re doing and why the entrance is packed with empty boxes?” he asked, gently setting her down as he brushed hair out of her face.

“Right. I’m sorry I should have cleaned those up early, but I got distracted. I have something important to tell you. So, the night you left, I had a dream. And usually I don’t pay too much attention to my dreams but Bruce, this one was different. It, it was so real. We, well we had a family. Bruce the house was so full and it was, I mean, I -I cant really explain it. It was amazing. There was a lot of people but I could only make four out clearly. Bruce, they were our boys, and . . . I cant even find the words to effectively describe it. Bruce, they were amazing. One of them, I think he was the youngest, was incredibly artistic. Bruce, his drawing, his painting were breathtaking! And he was such an animal person. Another one, he was insanely smart, like almost mindboggling. His ability to see thing, little things that no one else was able to see was incredible! Oh, and the other one, I think he was the oldest, was an absolutely amazing gymnast. His acrobatics, Bruce, it was like watching a top circus performer! And the last one, he – his grasp of literature was heartwarming and beautiful. I mean, his knowledge of classical literature rivaled the professors at the university. He was also a little mechanical, a little enginery I suppose.” Marinette explained, her eyes lighting up as she described the boys.

“So that’s why there are a bunch of empty boxes and your painting rooms?” he asked, trying to understand why she was acting like she was prepping for these boys. Like they were real.

“Bruce,” she said, looking at him with one of the most serious faces he had ever seen. “I know it sounds crazy, but whenever I have dreams like this, with this much clarity and detail, they always come true. Bruce, we’re going to have a family. And I know it won’t happen for a while, but I – well I wanted to get a head start, you know. In preparing the rooms. I want them to have a place where they can indulge in their passions. A place where they can learn and grow and create. I want them to have a place of their own. A place where, when everything is too much and they feel like giving up, that they can come to, to just, be themselves. For when the pressure just gets too much and they feel like giving up. A place where they can just be who they are without anyone telling them otherwise.”

Looking down at her while she spoke, Bruce saw that she truly believe every word she was saying. And as she explained herself, he started to believe her too. While everything she was saying sounded so surreal, the certainty with which she spoke and the spark in her eyes quickly won him over.

“Mar, tell me more about them.”

That wasn’t the first or the last time Bruce was surprised with his firecracker. It seemed like every day, she would do something or say something that he had never thought of or considered. And some of them would make a larger impact then others.

11:58

“Bruce?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think of heroes?”

Looking up from his book, Bruce cast Marinette, who was sitting on the other end of the couch, a look.

“Don’t you mean vigilantes?” he asked, earning him a playful kick from his seatmate.

“Well, if you want to be technical about it,” she scoffed, sending him a mock glare. “But seriously, Bruce, what do you think of them?” she asked again as she continued to sketch.

“I never really gave it much thought. Why the sudden question?” Bruce said, watching his fiancé’s pencil stop momentarily before it resumed it’s task. It was a few seconds before she spoke again.

“France, Paris specifically, had a set of heroes when I was twelve. Coccinelle and Chat Noir, or Ladybug and Black Cat. They were tasked with fighting a madman who called himself Faucon Papillon, or Hawk Moth. He would prey on the emotionally compromised, granting them power to feed their need for revenge. And in return, he wanted them to retrieve what gave Coccinelle and Chat Noir their powers. He called it their miraculous, two pieces of jewelry: earring that belonged to Coccinelle and a ring from Chat Noir. If he had those two items, it would grant him the powers of a god. It would grant him a wish.”

“How could two pieces of jewelry do that?” He asked after a pause, searching her face.

“Well, they were magical. I know this sound crazy, but I assure you that I am not lying. The ladybug represents creation and the black cat, destruction. Two halves of a whole. A ying and yang if you will. With these two combined, one rewrite reality. These heroes were not only given the responsibly for not only defending Paris from that emotional terrorist, but also prevent him from obtain ultimate power. With every akuma, that’s what we ended up calling the controlled person, they had to fight and purify, every cure that was cast, they became symbols to us. When people saw them, they knew that we still had hope. It took nearly five years for them to track Faucon Papillon down. Before the final battle. When they defeated him, Paris breathed a sigh of relief, but we never got to thank our heroes. They just, disappeared after. So, for me, heroes are a symbol of hope. When things look the bleakest, and everything is crashing down, they are always there. Fighting for people who they will never really know. They are fighting a war they may not see the end of, but they fight on. Because they know that if they fall, hope is destroyed. So heroes, or vigilantes, have my highest respect.” She explained, occasionally glancing up from her drawing, but never stopping.

“You really think highly of them don’t you?” he asked, moving over to her side of the couch.

“I do.” She said, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, glancing down on her sketch pad. There, laying in startling detail, was a hero design. The design, unsurprising, was incredible. The suit was designed for maximum protection and agility, as well as identity concealment. She even went so far as to start weapons designs. But what caught his attention was the symbol she chose.

“Why a bat? Don’t they symbolize death?” Bruce asked as he studied the sketch.

“Yes, but they also symbolize rebirth and protection, and in Chinese culture, they represent luck or good fortune. They are often referred to as guardians of the night, and I think that’s what Gotham needs. In a city so full of misfortune and death, they need a symbol that shows thing can be better. That the city can be rebirthed into something greater. And while that hope is there, they also will have a protector. Someone to watch over them when darkness falls. I . . . I think it’s the perfect symbol for Gotham.”

11:59

It was New Years Eve and the gala was in full swing. Bruce and Marinette, though they had been engaged since August, had both agreed to wait until New Years to announce the engagement. Everyone agreed that the news was an amazing way to end the decade. The news of their engagement would be made public tomorrow, but for now, they would enjoy themselves and bring in the new year together. And then, it happened.

It was five minutes until midnight when a gun fire went off. Everyone started to run, screams of fear filling the air. Then the laughter started, that crazed laugh that shot terror though everyone’s hearts. They all knew that laugh. All eyes turned towards the sound, towards the stage, landing on a familiar figure. There, standing in all his terrifying glory was the Joker.

“Is this thing on?” he asked, roughly tapping on the mic, sending a high pitch squeal though the speakers. “Well, sorry I couldn’t be here early folks, but at least I’m here before the ball drops.” He said, waving his gun hand over the crowd. “You know what I always wanted to do? What I always dreamed of doing. I always wanted to bring a new year in with a bang! And I always wanted to be the one to ring in a new century. I mean, just think about it. A new year, a new century, a new era, brought in by the Joker himself. And your little party here, is baring witness to that. I mean, you guys are going to go down in history. I mean, how crazy is that!”

“The only crazy I see in here is you.” Someone muttered, but unfortunately, they didn’t do it quiet enough.

“Oh, oh I’m not crazy. You see I only do crazy thing. People think I have this elaborate plan, this vindictive that I follow, but you see, I just like to rattle a cage, and then I sit back and watch what naturally progresses from there. I may start out with a basis of what I wanna do, I start it and then I take things as they come. That way, I’m never surprized and it’s a guarantee for me to have a laugh.”

Then, someone whispered a little too loudly, ‘Monster’, and that seemed to flip a switch, Joker went from the happy lunatic to an angry one.

“Monster? Oh, I’ll show you monster!” he shouted, swinging his gun towards the crowd, firing without glancing at the target. During his distraction, one of the security guards, one of the few who hadn’t been gassed by Joker, fired his gun, his bullet finding it mark in the madman’s shoulder. While the crowd began to breath a sigh of relief, a desperate cry tore through the building.

“Mar! No! Nonononononononono!! Please Mar, look at me. Firecracker, please.” Bruce begged, cradling his beloved’s face with one hand as he tried to apply pressure to the chest wound. Her dress, a beautiful baby blue floor length gown, was splattered with blood, the stain growing rapidly around her chest.

“B-B-Bruce?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m here.” He whispered, tears falling freely down his face as the warmth of her blood seeped past his hand.

“I-its gonna be ok, Bruce. It’s not your fault, ok. It’s not your fault.” Marinette said, gasping for air.

“No! No, you cant say that! You can’t- I don- I can’t lose you too. Please.” Bruce said, tears blurring his vision, a lump forming in his throat.

She let go of the hand that was attempting to stop the bleed, gently cupping his face, forcing him to look at her. The feeling of her cold hand, sticky with warm, fresh blood sent a whole new wave of panic through him.

“I love you, Bruce.” His firecracker said, giving him the sweetest smile. Just as the clock struck midnight, her hand slipped from his face, leaving behind a bloody print.

It was exactly a year since that night. A year since she was gone, and nothing was the same. The manor was colder, the days bleaker. There was no light anymore. They should have been married. She should have been here with him. But she wasn’t. And here he was, alone, looking through one of her old sketch books. Trying to picture how she always stuck her tongue out when she was concentrating on a drawing. Remembering how she would light up was the image in her head began to take form on paper. Turning the page, Bruce stopped at one of the drawings, the one with the bat suit. The one of his firecracker’s ideal hero of Gotham.

~

“This is quiet something your asking Mr. Wayne. The details in this suit, well, they’re very specific.” Lucas Fox stated, looking up from the suit design the young Wayne brought in, requesting to be made, and he wasn’t joking. The instructions for the suit itself were incredibly specific. Just by looking at the diagrams and designs, they would need to be followed to the letter just to make it plausible.

“I know, and you’ll have full funding for it, but I want it exactly the same. I don’t want a thing changed. Especially the symbol.”

 @naclychilli

[grahammasurian]

Dumping Your Responsibility.

The dumpster outside my apartment building was completely overflowed. The truck missed a couple weeks for some reason and people just kept piling their shit on top regardless.

“My sin will be forgiven, the next sinner will go to hell!”

This came into my head whenever I thought of the garbage situation. I considered myself 99% innocent since I didn’t use the dumpster during these couple weeks. Unfortunately when disaster happens it doesn’t care how much you were involved, all it sees is your darkness.

What I could have done was call up our landlord. Maybe I didn’t add directly to the trash pile but I still could have brought attention to it. Unfortunately my mind gave me a great reason for not calling him, a wonderful why even bother type of belief. These curses will kill you but they provide immense relief.

He lives someplace nicer and keeps his back turned on this building, so if I don’t tell him anything he’ll keep believing whatever fantasy he’s living. Whenever I bring up something for him to look at he puts it off or conveniently forgets about it, can’t say I blame him. I'd love to do the same sometimes and then feel guilty about it for the rest of my life. It’s hard to convince myself that a life of eternal guilt is worse than a life of hard work. Maybe the simple solution is to just disregard the guilt and make everyone despise me, though I can’t say that seems like a good long term strategy.

I guess everyone likes to avoid responsibility too, don’t get me wrong I get it, because man it sure feels good to not take anything seriously, just sit back and relax through life, I’ll lay down in my bed and fold into a quarter circle. Pull my knees up to my chest and gently hold myself, like swinging in the breeze floating along to somewhere better.

Eventually some birds had a war over the trash that was at this point spilling everywhere, old food, old clothes, plastic shit, maybe real shit. It was a disaster but seemed to be an appropriate punishment for us. I watched a seagull pull apart a bag for 30 minutes, something about the completely boring and ordinary scene held a power over me. I imagined this feeling of our civilizations being consumed again by nature, it’s easy to forget that nature is constantly trying to integrate us more effectively. Integration with an ocean with a mysterious intention.

We could have salvaged things there, rescued some of our dignity and just accepted responsibility for what we did by not doing. I sat some nights debating whether or not I should just go out there and clean up everything alone. I didn’t mind the day, but at night I just loved how things seemed to come to life inside me. There was a power that I didn’t have access to during the day.

I decided it wasn’t worth cleaning up, after all I don’t really care what these people think of me, unless they express it to me. Plus I felt like I fit in better with my environment as a lazy drifter. When I run into the people that live here occasionally there is enough willpower on all our parts to say “Hi” and then move on our way. The two people that live under me, man and wife, maybe around late 50’s early 60’s always give me a glimpse into a possible future. The guy looks like his soul has been sucked out and not in a good way. It scares me for a moment and I tell myself I’ll keep it in mind but my actions don’t change.

The next week after the missed pickup and our experiment with apathy, something happened.

It was 12:33 AM, I was laying down in my bed with the window open, listening to the wind and feeling the slight breeze on my skin. Sometimes I’d lay there for hours listening to music or in silence, using drugs of course. The sounds of the night combined with distant sounds of the city created the backdrop for the worlds I explored in my mind. I break away from the atmosphere and write some ideas down in some form then go back to my mind.

I heard a familiar sound, the mother of this girl screaming in that resentful kind of way. Whenever someone talks that way to me my stomach gets sick, I see this person is using me to escape from something. You know instantly that this isn’t about you anymore, it's about them.

I hated the way this mother yelled at her daughter, I didn’t have kids of my own but I didn’t mind them, I generally see children as innocent beings until they gain awareness. When they become aware they turn into wood, hopefully they make it through and become real but many don’t. Some play as the twisted craftsmen, shaping the world with design. Night after night I’d hear this poor girl being molded into something that will make her unhappy for the rest of her life.

Even though it’s hard to feel connected with darkness, you still elicit feelings for things of the night. You react more on principle and not bigger picture at night, this mother was injecting venom deep into the mind of her daughter. Like a jackass I sat there each night it happened and listened to it like music.

 Being man enough to walk down there one day and call her out on her shitty behavior was always in the back of my mind, but then I would think some more and figure what difference would it make? Sometimes I snap out of my delusions and wake up, I see who I am from up here.

Just look for the right words.

It didn’t happen every time but sometimes this warped girl would dash outside, slamming doors and shouting behind her. Most times I’d hear her small steps pace around or walk down out of earshot then eventually I’d hear her again coming from the other side of the building, maybe doing two or three laps like that before cooling off and gaining enough strength to go back. She feels like she just wants to give up but chooses to continue to face that fate which shows just how much courage she had.

This night the young girl made her usual escape, something about the scene caught my attention. Normally I just ignored it for the most part, but tonight I felt worried for her and listened to see if she was okay.

The shriek of her screaming scared me sober. That kind of pitch that you can only get when you feel real terror.

Confusion at night amplifies fear to a level that can go beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Sometimes hearing a loud noise randomly in the middle of the night only to realize it was something conspicuous is an interesting moment of tension and release of tension. When you listen to death it creates tension that doesn’t go away unless you force it to release.

I couldn’t see much but the sounds made up for the rest, I looked on in horror as this poor unfortunate girl came running towards the front door to come back inside. She must have forgotten to prop it open a little this time like she usually did. The door was shut, she couldn’t escape through there and it was the only chance she had time to try.

This whole thing happened so fast it was as if my mind refused to think about what I was seeing, this bear that must have smelled some food nearby came across her instead.

Hearing someone produce screams that come from a dangerous place, sends a painful shock through you. It would have been nice if I was one of those people that got off on that kind of thing but unfortunately I had to deal with the feelings of misery, dread, sadness, fear, anger, all at once.  

A little bit slower than what should have been immediate there was incredible energy from all around, people coming out and making noise, not too many but enough for me to be impressed.

The general sentiment at the time was:

“Oh My God!” A big fat lady wearing a shaggy blue sweater screeched out. There were many other intense shouts, deflated yelps, sobbing murmurs, all mixing together slowly creating the atmosphere for a tremendously horrific scene.

All these half awake people, semi-disconnected souls felt something deep down within them for once. For the first time in decades some of these hopeless people felt alive, they acted without thought calling back to our primate ancestors. They witnessed a driving force, without realizing the lesson unfortunately.

Some of the people approached the girl to try and attempt some kind of help and others stayed away, accepting the situation or too afraid to know how bad it really was.

Some sobs were heard throughout the night as people came and went, voices that sounded defeated, voices that sounded ready to give up and heavy with guilt.

“Emily! No!” The mother cried. Obviously still drunk. Obviously deluded into thinking her daughter is anywhere close to alive.

“Please baby I’m so sorry! Please wake up baby!”

I had great disdain for this mother, but at that moment I felt bad for her. This woman made mistakes and in the end all it causes is suffering.

They came for her daughter, whisked her away into the abyss forever. Black cloaks riding into the stars on their skeletal horses. I wasn’t sure whether or not the constant beating I was hearing was a drum or my heart. We summoned these demons with our ritual, the choices we made were acts of incantation that brought forth monsters with the power to possess mortals, the possession was the final step in ensuring resurrection lest one of us snap out of the hypnosis and rescue the rest from the gaze of Medusa.

Then some downcast EMT workers took away her body, from the low looks and words after immediately coming upon the scene it was clear that hope didn’t exist anymore. I never saw the aftermath personally, where the actual attack happened was obscured to me by the awning over the door. Sometimes imagination makes things worse.

The mother followed her daughter into the darkness 3 weeks later.

[notalwaysthevillian]

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.4k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 7: Test Day

Exam day was here before we knew it.

“Alright! Everyone on the bus!” Iida called out as we staggered out of the dorms.

“Iida. Inside voice.” I shushed, rubbing my eyes.

Kaminari stumbled behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “‘M tired.”

“Me too.”

“You can nap on the bus!” Iida shouted, making the two of us jump.

Grumbling about how loud it was, I dragged Kaminari with me to the back. We collapsed into one of the seats, him letting me have the aisle seat.

I fell asleep almost immediately, using him as my pillow.

“ Dew Drop. Wake up. ”

I took a deep breath, stretching my arms. “We’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. They’re gonna think we’re up to something.” He teased, grabbing my hand.

We walked off the bus and gathered up with the rest of the class. The arena looked pretty cool, with a top that seemed like it could close if it rained. With my quirk, I hoped they would keep it open, but I was willing to bet that wasn’t the case.

“What if I don’t get my license?!” I heard Mineta panicking.

“Mineta.” Mr. Aizawa leaned down to his height. “Don’t ask if you can. Say you will.”

“Right! Sure! I’ve so got this!”

Mr. Aizawa turned to the rest of us. “If you can pass this test and get your provisional licenses, then you novice eggs will hatch into chicks. You’ll be semi-pros. I expect your best.”

“Alright! I can’t wait to be a heroic chicken!” Kaminari yelled out, firing up the class.

“Let’s call out the usual you guys!” Kirishima held up a fist. “On my mark. Plus -”

“ULTRA!”

I jumped as a boy yelled with us, appearing right next to me. His uniform was different. He must’ve been from another school.

“You know, it’s pretty rude to barge into other people’s conversations like that, Inasa.”

“Pardon me! I am so extremely sorry!” He bowed so deeply his head grazed the concrete.

“Who is this guy?” Kaminari pointed at him. “It’s too early for this much enthusiasm.”

I elbowed him. “Be nice! When we’re pros there’s a chance we may end up working with some of them. Not everyone comes from UA.”

“UA in the east, Shiketsu in the west.” Bakugo scoffed.

“I wanted to say it just once!” Inasa stood back up. “Plus Ultra!”

“Plus Ultra!” I echoed back, giving everyone from Shiketsu a friendly smile. “I look forward to competing today!”

“I’m honored to compete against such incredible students. I’m looking forward to it!”

The Shiketsu students continued on into the building, a few of them giving me a quick wave.

“Inasa Yoarashi.”

“Do you know that guy, Mr. Aizawa?” Hagakure asked.

“Yes. He’s strong. He’s the same year as you, and received the top scores for students admitted through recommendations. But for some reason, he turned down his acceptance to UA and went to Shiketsu.”

“Wait, he’s our age?!”

I nudged Kaminari. “I thought Momo had the top score.”

“Must’ve just been the top score for UA.”

Mina looked after the students, watching them walk off. “What a weirdo.”

“Maybe, but he’s the real deal. Keep an eye on him.” Mr. Aizawa looked at me then. “Nima, keep your quirk a secret until necessary.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

“Eraser?!” A female voice called out to us, making Mr. Aizawa cringe. “I’d know that scowl anywhere. I saw you on TV and at the sports festival. Been a while since we were this close in person!”

A realization hit me like a freight train. “Oh no.”

Mina and Kaminari both looked at me in confusion.

“Guys, your sports festival aired live.”

More confused looks.

“Which means that almost everyone here knows what your quirks are.”

Todoroki sighed. “We’re at a disadvantage.”

“Not entirely.” I crossed my arms behind my back. “I wasn’t at the sports festival. They don’t know what I can do.”

“You’re our only advantage then.” Mina pointed out. “That’s probably why Mr. Aizawa told you to keep your quirk a secret.”

“Over here everyone!” The woman who was talking to Mr. Aizawa waved some students over. “This is UA.”

“Whoa! It’s Class A!”

“That’s amazing! I’ve seen them on TV before!”

“Second years from Ketsubutsu Academy. This is Class 2. They’re my students.” The woman said.

One boy ran up to Midoriya. “Hey, I’m Shindo. Seems like UA’s had a lotta trouble this year. Must’ve been tough for you.”

“Uh, yeah.”

The boy moved to Kaminari, grabbing his hands. “But even so, you’re all still aiming to become pro heroes, despite those hardships.”

He moved to me. “It’s wonderful!”

Before he could grab my hands, I took a step back. “Thanks.”

“Hearts full of fortitude. I believe that’s what every hero in the world needs to have.”

He gave me a sparkling smile. Something about it felt off.

“This pretty boy is gonna steal our girls.”

I threaded my finger’s through Kami’s. “Not me.”

He gave me a kiss on the forehead. “You’re too good for me.”

I saw Shindo talking to Bakugo, who slapped his hand away. “Stop pretending. What you say doesn’t match the look in your eyes.”

“Man, don’t be rude!” Kiri called him out.

The others apologized to Shindo, but I slipped out of Kami’s grip and over to our resident stick of dynamite. “You’re absolutely right. He’s faking it.”

“Glad to know you have some common sense.” He huffed, glaring at Shindo. “Stick with me today. You’re strong.”

I was confused, but nodded before moving back to Kami’s side.

“Hey. Get your costumes on and head to orientation. There’s no time to waste.”

“Yes, sir!”

Jirou fell into step with me. “It’s weird. I always forget we’re famous to other schools.”

“We’re basically celebrities when it comes to hero course students.”

We got into our costumes and were briefed by the Heroes Public Safety Commisson guy. I tuned out most of it. We had balls, we had to hit targets. Easy peasy. My Tidal Wave would come in handy here.

The walls of the room we were in folded down, revealing the rest of the arena, covered in various terrains.

“Everyone!” Midoriya addressed us. “Stay close together. We’ll fight them as a group.”

“Yeah right. This isn’t a field trip.” Bakugo gave me and Kiri a look before running off.

I followed, knowing Kami would be right behind me.

“Idiot! Wait up!” Kiri called, chasing after us.

Bakugo headed to the city terrain. I knew he’d do well there, with so many buildings to use as perches. Hopefully there was a fake water tower or two I could steal from.

I heard what sounded like an earthquake behind us. “What the hell was that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Keep moving.”

I could hear people being knocked out of the running left and right. Further away, I saw an ice wall go up, and then heard some explosions.

“Looks like Todoroki is doing well.”

“Shut up!”

About half the spots were taken by the time we were climbing up a fire escape.

“Hey Kaminari. Why’d you follow us?” Kiri asked.

“You guys started running, and you stole my girlfriend. Of course I was gonna follow you. Where are we going?”

“Shut up!”

“Why do you always sound so mad?”

“I told you to chill out Bakugo.” Kiri sighed. “It looks like there’s a lot of people up there, so let’s work together.”

“Go die.”

I tapped on Bakugo’s boot. “Hey, you asked me to be here.”

“I didn’t think I’d get Spark Plug too.”

“Dude, we’re dating, what did you think was gonna happen?”

“Come on man.”

Something swung at us. Kirishima shoved me forward. “Look out!”

“Kirishima!”

He was squashed into a little ball of flesh. I couldn’t help but gag. “That’s disgusting.”

“What the crap?” Kaminari pulled me behind him. “Did that really just happen?”

“All I know is that bastard looks like he’s to blame.”

A Shiketsu student stood in the road, tons of flesh balls around him. One of my hands rested on Kami’s back as I stepped closer to him. “Careful.”

“I’ll kill him!”

“I’m from Shiketsu.” The boy started, and I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. Of course he would monologue.

“Please notice, my school keeps our hats on when we’re working. Why’s that? Because. Each and every one of our movements is crowned by the legacy and honor of our school.” He dropped Kirishima on the ground, making the worst noise ever. “This is a demonstration. Proof of the difference in level between my peers and your vulgar classes. We value obligation and dignity - things that appear to be sorely lacking among you.”

Bakugo laughed. “I really hate your type.”

“He’s hard to follow.”

“He’s saying he thinks he’s better than we are.” I explained. “How about we show him otherwise?”

“Maybe don’t provoke this guy?! Look what he did to Kirishima!”

I pecked Kami on the cheek. “Bug, we can handle him.”

“UA High. I have respect for your school. I take pride in the fact that our institutions are treated as equals. But your class is shameful. You act in ways that disgrace heroes!”

Giant fingers appeared from behind his back.

“He’s attacking again!”

I took a step back. “I don’t want to be gross!”

“Shut up!” Bakugo snapped. “Obligation”? “Dignity”? You just like to hear yourself talk. I don’t see any proof. Show us with your actions, not your cheap words! If you can.”

“You’re worst of all, Bakugo!”

The fingers separated from him, flying towards Bakugo. I pulled the water from my belt, ready to grab them with my whip and pull them away from us if necessary.

Bakugo ran forward, setting up for his special AP shot move. He shot the fingers out of the sky, before lowering his gauntlet.

“I had to make a weak version so I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You know, this is why everyone is terrified of you - you’re way too hardcore.”

The fingers started forming back on the boy’s arms. “Okay, so they float back to him. Disgusting.”

“I see now. I’ll teach you a lesson by breaking you. This will show you what it means to be dignified and behave like a hero!”

The fingers started coming at us again. I stepped back, knowing that someone from a place like Shiketsu wouldn’t just do the same move again.

“He thinks he’s better than us!” Bakugo started running towards him. He started taking out more fingers with his AP shot.

I jumped forward to help, keeping a small whirlpool rotating around me. I’d be able to sense something hitting me from the back, if that was the plan.

“Let’s just get this fight over with. Maybe this will speed things along!”

Two of Kami’s discs shot out, hitting the wall next to the boy as he dodged. “Crap!”

“Work on your aim, and your look. Maybe I can make you something more appealing!”

“Enough talk! Die!”

Bakugo shot out some explosions and smoke filled the area. Just as it cleared, I saw a finger come out from the side, inches from Bakugo’s neck.

“No!”

I threw a wave forward but it was too late. Bakugo was grabbed.

“Once I touch you, you’re my plaything.”

“Bakugo!”

“Idiots,” he grumbled as he was morphed. “Fix this!”

He threw something toward Kaminari, but the boy didn’t notice as I drew my wave back. I moved to Kami’s side, letting the whirlpool swirl around our feet.

“Can you make it bigger?”

I tried pulling moisture from the air, my heart pounding when I realized that it wasn’t working. “The air is too dry, and we’re not close enough to any other bodies of water. This is all I have.”

“This is a demonstration. The test has an unusually low passing rate. At first this seemed counterintuitive given our current world.”

As he started to monologue again, I whispered, “I can soak him, but it’ll leave us vulnerable.”

“Wait for my signal.”

“I decided to thin the herd myself.” The boy continued.

“You’re ignoring the test because you think you’re superior?”

I let the water swirl faster. “You’re crazy. The world needs heroes that can do as they’re asked, not do what they want.”

“I’m simply separating the mediocre from the extraordinary.” He stepped forward, leaning his weight on Kirishima. “By the way. Your comrades here still feel pain in this form. Your untamed electricity will torture your friends if you use it. And you don’t seem to have enough water to hurt me as well as you could. You’re stuck.”

“You’ve been doing nothing but hurling insults at us this entire time.” Kami put a hand to his forehead. I’m kind of starting to take it personally, ya know.”

“Then you’re more self aware than I thought. Take some time to reflect on your failure!”

Kami reached behind him, throwing something. “Reflect on this!”

An explosion rocked behind him, distracting the boy.

“It’s not just a fashion statement. He can use that gear along with his nitro sweat to create simple grenades.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “He tossed it to you.”

Kami nodded at me, and I wrapped the water around the boy, soaking him to the bone.

“By the way, big shot. You stumbled into a really killer spot!” Electricity arced off of Kami’s finger, straight toward the disc.

His electricity, combined with being soaked, shocked him worse than I anticipated. He gasped, falling to his knees.

“Listen up. Bakugo might seem like a jerk on the surface, but he’s actually trying hard to be a pro-hero. He threw that grenade to me while being attacked. That was a result of calm judgement and planning.”

I nodded, noticing our friends were starting to come out of flesh ball form. “And Kirishima is such a good guy that he shoved me out of the way, taking the hit himself!”

“You only know bits and pieces of information about them. Don’t insult what you don’t know!”

The boy stood, fingers appearing around him again. “I’ll teach you to be more aware of your place! You degenerate!”

Kirishima activated his quirk, punching him in the stomach as Bakugo came in and blasted him.

“The more damage he takes, the more people get released.” Kiri pointed out.

Bakugo stood in front of all of us. “No wonder he was only using long distance attacks.”

Kiri nodded at us. “Thanks for the save, you two.”

“What took so long?!”

“You’re so mean! No one’s gonna like you if you -”

“Sorry to interrupt, but could we get our points and get out of here?” I asked, gesturing to the many people that were coming out of ball form. “Before they get us?”

Bakugo licked his lips.

“We’ve got targets.”

[ofsinnersandsaints]

where do you run

rating: E (this chapter is T) word count: 17805 chapter: 6/?

take place at the end of episode 77 and the beginning of 78

AO3

It was Pike’s idea to have the pillow fort, and Grog thought it was a great idea.

While Vex cleaned up, he and Pike went around the fort to scavenge for blankets and pillows to spread them out in front of the fire. They had a handful already, but Pike wanted more so they were poking around to see what else they could get. “Are you going to ask?”

Pike pulled a blanket out of trunk and sniffed it, they’d found one or two that had smelled like mold and she’d deemed them unworthy for their sleepover. “Ask about what, Grog?”

“Me and Keyleth.”

“Oh,” she tilted her head as she looked up at him. “I figured if you wanted to talk about it you’d bring it up. Do you want to talk about it?”

Grog shrugged. “Not much to talk about, I don’t think. Everyone else is poking and prodding, thought you might want to as well.”

Pike nodded and gestured for him to lean down so she could add the blanket to his growing pile. Once she did she grabbed his face and he let her. “I only have one question. Are you happy?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fighting fucking dragons.”

“Grog,” she warned.

“It’s new,” he answered seriously because other than that he didn’t know what it was. He and Keyleth hadn���t really talked about anything after they’d made good use of his bed, just curled up and passed out. And there hadn’t been much of a chance to talk after with Daxio burning and all. There was something there between them, but he wasn’t smart enough to know the word for it. “And different. But it’s good.”

“Good is good.”

Grog returned Pike’s smile with one of his own. “Good is good.”

They walked back into the main room and put the blankets in a semi-circle around the large fire while everyone went to the table where food had been laid out. It wasn’t much, but it would get them through the night and that’s what mattered.

As Grog piled up his plate he kept an eye on Keyleth who looked as if she was about to pass out at any minute. He wondered if he should check on her, then wondered if that was his place. She could take care of herself, and for all he knew their night messing up the sheets had simply been her ‘now-or-never’ before they all died at the hands of a red dragon.

Even as the thought passed through his head he was moving to stand behind her. “You look like you’re going to fall over.”

She immediately leaned back against him, her plate titling in her hand so he reached out to grab it. “I feel like I’m going to fall asleep standing.”

“I got your stuff, find a spot next to the fire so you don’t die from fainting.”

“That would be embarrassing,” she mumbled as she pushed off him and moved towards the piles of blankets and furs. She nearly bumped into Vex who came down from the bath, freshly washed but still wearing her dirty armor.

“Grog, pull out the jug, will you? I think we could all use a drink tonight.”

There was a chorus of agreement as most of Vox Machina found their places around the large hearth. Grog sat down and handed Keyleth her plate before pulling the jug out of the bag of holding. He grabbed a couple of glasses and filled them up, passing them to each of his friends except for Keyleth who shook her head.

“If I have a sip I’ll be drunk,” she said as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

Not even a second later Vex leaned forward, eyes wide. “You’ve got a hickey, Keyleth.”

Grog stilled, but before he had a chance to worry about it Keyleth waved a tired hand. “I’m aware.”

Vex opened her mouth then closed it before she looked around at the group, settling back into her spot. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Good,” Vax piped up. “I think we’re all too tired for this conversation, stubby.”

Grog watched as Vex glared at her brother. “Aren’t you just the least bit curious?”

“I’m about as interested in whatever is going on between them as I am about whatever is going on between you and Percy. Which is zero.”

“I’m interested in both things,” Scanlan piped up. “Please, give us precise and graphic details.”

Pike threw a pillow at his head even as he laughed.

“Leave them alone guys,” Pike ordered with her serious look. “We just saved an entire city. We need to eat, drink, and then sleep. All thinking should wait until tomorrow, cleric’s orders.”

Vex grumbled but drank from her cup and just a few minutes later Keyleth was leaning against him, her eyes shut. “Might be more comfortable on the blankets.”

There was a small smile on her lips, but she didn’t move. “I’m good here.”

He shifted his arm so he could wrap it around the druid, and she immediately cuddled closer. When he felt a small warmth around his middle he looked down and saw her hands glowed slightly. “Are you healing me?” he asked, amused and touched by the gesture.

“It’s just a little spell,” she shrugged.

“I’ll be fine by the morning,” he reminded her.

“You never know what might happen in the middle of the night,” she argued. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever floats your boat, but I would like to lay down at some point.”

Keyleth pulled away and blinked her eyes open, barely awake. “Do you want to be closer to the fire, or further?”

“Further.”

She stretched out next to him, and since she was all but asleep already, he grabbed one of the fur blankets and pulled it across her. And like she had the past few nights Keyleth immediately turned into his side and rested her head on his chest.

It was weird how well she fit against him, like a piece sliding into place, her red hair falling over his arm and shoulder like the softest blanket. “Are you cold?” she mumbled against his chest.

He tugged her a little closer. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Vox Machina popped into Whitestone the next day with the help of Keyleth’s magic and as a group they headed towards the castle, but Grog stopped in the middle of the square and looked up.

Keyleth stood next to him and looked up as well. “See any vampires?”

He chuckled but shook his head. “You know, I wasn’t really up on telling time before, but all this jumping around from place to place is really fucking me up.”

Keyleth laughed. “I’ve honestly given up at this point. Come on, to the war room we go.”

They all made their way through the castle and down to the ziggurat where a handful of people were waiting for Vox Machina to arrive. It fucking baffled him every damn time. Not too long ago they were going around busting heads for gold and now some of the most important people in the word were waiting for them.

People and dragons, he corrected himself as he felt Keyleth stiffen as the large green dragon came into view.

Looking down, he saw her lips tighten and could all but feel the rage building up inside of her. He reached out and put his big hand on the back of her neck and let the weight of it rest against her skin. “You going to be okay in there?”

She seemed to breathe easier so he left his hand where it was as they stopped for a moment. “If I go after her, will you hold me back?”

Grog considered the question and finally nodded. “Yes, but only because magic doesn’t work down there, otherwise I’d be going after her right along with you.”

From their vantage point he could see Raishan, big and lethal, the whites of her eyes nearly black from whatever disease was slowly killing her. Grog squeezed the back of Keyleth’s neck gently to get her attention back on him. “She looks worse, if that makes you feel better.”

Keyleth smiled up at him. “It does actually, thanks.”

He ran his hand down her back, “Let’s get this fucking thing over with.”

For Grog, the meeting was mostly pointless. He wasn’t what anyone would call intelligent, but he knew what his job was. Wherever Vox Machina ended up, he was supposed to hit the biggest thing in the room, and he was more than happy with that.

An hour later they all got up and started heading towards their various jobs. Vex was off to track down Zahra, Vax was to Gilmore, and Keyleth had reluctantly agreed to talk to Kashaw. He’d have teased her about it if her face wasn’t already redder than a tomato.

They’d found him training outside the castle and Grog had glowered from a distance as Keyleth sputtered out an apology, but it would seem the brash paladin had his eyes focused elsewhere. As soon as Keyleth mentioned Zahra, Kashaw had agreed to go.

“She’s hiding something,” Keyleth said as soon as she was back with him. By unspoken communication they headed back inside the castle and towards his room.

“Who is hiding something?” He asked as she chewed on her lip. “Raishan? Yeah, no shit.”

“I mean about Thordack, about whatever he’s building.”

Grog had caught something about that. “You think she knows what it is?”

“She knows, or she suspects,” Keyleth allowed. “Raishan is the kind of person who likes to know things.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Grog joked as he opened his door and let Keyleth walk in first. “Is it something you want to look into more?”

Her face twisted in thought, but after a moment she threw up her hands in defeat. “Honestly, I don’t know if it would make much a difference. I just don’t like the idea of her knowing things we don’t. It makes me twitchy.”

“Makes sense,” he dropped his bag on the table and added his axe to it as Keyleth looked around the room.

“If you have a Grog sized bed, and Grog sized chairs, does that mean you have a Grog sized tub as well?”

The instant Keyleth mentioned a tub a dozen thoughts flitted through his mind, every one of them was a good one. “Can’t say as I’ve ever paid attention. Why?”

“Because I want take a bath before we go to bed.”

As they had left the war room Vex had sidled up to him and asked him if he was jealous about Keyleth going to see Kashaw, but Grog had never felt much in the way of jealousy, didn’t see a need for it. Either he had what he wanted or he didn’t, and right this moment Keyleth was in his room taking off her leathers and boots while she used cantrip after cantrip to fill up his bathtub with boiling hot water.

There wasn’t a damn thing to be jealous about. “You’re going to cook yourself in that.”

She grinned as she pulled at the threads holding her dress together and stepped out of it. “That’s the plan. Want to join me?”

Grog shook his head and leaned against the doorway to the little bath chamber. She was blushing from head to toe. “I like the view from here.”

“Whatever you say,” Keyleth snorted as she slid into the water, hissing at how hot it was.

She dunked her head beneath the surface and came back up with drops of water skating down her skin. He didn’t know much about math, but he was beginning to wonder if he had time for a ravishing before they had to do everything that needed to be done.

Grog walked over to the edge of the bathtub and sat down, reaching into the water to wrap his fingers around Keyleth’s ankle, his thumb brushing against the skin there.

Her voice was soft as she watched him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, can’t promise I’ll know the answer though.”

She pulled her hair over her shoulder, nervously braiding it. “I’ve never done anything like this before, so I don’t know what the rules are.”

“You’re talking about us?” She nodded and dropped her hair, the ends of it swirling in the water. “In that case, I’ve never done anything like this either.”

“So, if I ask if we’re exclusive, I won’t sound like an idiot?”

“Maybe a little,” he answered, softening the answer with a smile. He put his hand on either side of the side of the tub and leaned forward so he was all but crowding her in the tub. “You should know by now, Keyleth, I’m not much for sharing.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’d be good at sharing either.”

Grog leaned forward just enough to kiss her, unable to resist running his hand along the droplets decorating her arm. “You know what you should do after you kill Raishan?”

“What’s that?”

He looked up from her bare skin to her bright green eyes. “Turn her into armor.”

Those eyes lit up and she clapped, sloshing water onto the floor as she sat up straighter. “That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

Grog laughed at her exuberance. “You’re a little bit blood thirsty, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice as if she was telling a secret and someone might overhear. “But I was kind of hoping no one else would notice.”

“Fat chance of that,” he told her. “Like recognizes like.”

“Are you saying you recognized my rage?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“I think I recognized you too.”

“My love of animals?” he asked, taking on the fancy voice he used when he referred to his very important title.

She smiled but shook her head, bringing her hand out of the water to link her fingers with his. “No. Your wisdom.”

Grog rolled his eyes and knew he wasn’t the type of person to blush, but his cheeks still felt oddly hot. “I’m not wise, Kiki.”

“You are,” and she said it with such certainty she didn’t leave him any room to argue. “Vex cornered me earlier, to talk about the hickey.”

“It’s almost gone,” and he was already planning how he’d replace it and where. It’d be boring to do it in the same place each time.

She reached up and touched the place where his mark was barely visible against her pale skin. “She said it seemed like it came out of nowhere. DO you want to know what I told her?”

His big heart beat harshly against his ribs, and it felt a bit like when he came out of a rage; just a little unsteady and weak. Normally he hated that feeling, and he didn’t like it much now, but there was the hint of anticipation between heartbeats. “Sure.”

Keyleth looked at his hand as if the scars on his knuckles were interesting. “Back home, on the mountain top, you can see the sun rising from the first moment. Dark blue to indigo to burgundy to orange; the sun never catches you by surprise up there.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him, their gazes locking in a way which made it hard to think of a reason why he’d look away. “But down in the valley it’s different, the mountain range blocks everything so you’re in the darkness hours after the sun has risen on Zephyr and then, suddenly, it’s daylight. With absolutely no warning. That’s all to say, just because I didn’t see this coming, doesn’t mean the sun wasn’t rising the whole time.”

Grog stood up and her eyes went wide, but he didn’t take the time to figure out what she might be thinking. Intent on his purpose he stepped into the bath without giving her any warning, grinning as she laughed.

“You’re going to flood the bathroom,” she scolded, but she was still giggling as he leaned forward and kissed her. This was no friendly peck, no frantic caress. Grog wouldn’t have used the words out loud, but when he pressed his lips to hers there was joy in it, in the touch of her fingers on his beard.

He’d been born into anger, had nearly died from it as a kid, and he��d learned to use it so it could never use him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would see that rage and not only accept it, but understand it.

And somehow this druid, this fragile looking woman with big eyes and a bigger heart, was the one to see him. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Percy’s rich, he can afford it.”

“You’re absolutely right,” she agreed and pulled him down into the warmth of the water and her arms.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 11 paragraph viii

Inside the parking garage, which vibrated depressingly with olive-green light, there were a number of empty spaces in the long-term area despite the Full sign. As we nosed into the space a man in a sports coat lounging against a white Range Rover threw his cigarette in a spit of orange cinders and walked toward the car. His receding hairline, his tinted aviators and his taut military torso gave him the wind-whipped look of an ex-pilot, a man who monitored delicate instruments at some test site in the Urals. “Victor,” he said, when we got out of the car, crushing my hand in his. Gyuri and Boris received a thump on the back. After terse preliminaries in Russian, a baby-faced curly-headed teenager climbed out of the driver’s seat and was greeted, by Boris, with a slap on the cheek and a jaunty seven note whistle: On the Good Ship Lollipop. “This is Shirley T,” he said to me, rumpling the corkscrew curls. “Shirley Temple. We all call him that—why? Can you guess?”—laughing as the kid, unable to help it, smiled in embarrassment, displaying deep dimples. “Do not be deceived by looks,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “Shirley looks like baby but he has as much onions as any of us here.” Politely, Shirley nodded at me—did he speak English? it didn’t seem so— and opened the back door of the Range Rover for us and the three of us climbed in—Boris, Gyuri, and me—while Victor Cherry sat up front and talked to us from the passenger seat. “This should be easy,” he said to me formally as we pulled out of the garage and back out onto the Overtoom. “Straightforward pawn.” Up close his face was broad and knowing, with a small prim mouth and a wry alertness that made me feel somewhat less agitated about the logic of the evening, or the lack of it: the car changes, the lack of direction and information, the nightmare foreignness. “We are doing Sascha a favor and because of that? He is going to behave nice to us.” Long low buildings. Disjointed lights. There was a sense that it wasn’t happening, that it was happening to someone who wasn’t me. “Because can Sascha walk in bank and get a loan on the painting?” Victor was saying, pedantically. “No. Can Sascha walk in a pawn shop and get a loan on the painting? No. Can Sascha due to circumstances of theft go to any of his usual connections from Horst and get a loan on the painting? No. Therefore Sascha is extremely glad of the appearance of mystery American—you—who I have hooked him up with.” “Sascha shoots heroin the way that you and I breathe,” said Gyuri to me quietly. “One stitch of money and he is out buying big load of drugs like clockwork.” Victor Cherry adjusted his glasses. “Exactly. He is not art lover and he is not particular. He is utilizing picture like high interest credit card or so he thinks. Investment for you—cash for him. You front him the money—you hold the painting as security—he buys schmeck, keeps half, steps on the rest and sells it, and returns with double your money in one month to pick up the painting. And if? In one month he does not return with double your money? The painting is yours. Like I said. Simple pawn.”

“Except not so simple—” Boris stretched, and yawned—“because when you vanish? and bank draft is bad? What can he do? If he runs to Horst and calls for help on this one he will have his neck broken for him.” “I am glad they have changed the meeting place so many times. It is a little bit ridiculous. But it helps because today is Friday,” said Victor, taking off his aviators and polishing them on his shirt. “I made them think you were backing out. Because they kept cancelling and changing the plan—you did not even arrive until today, but they do not know that—because they kept changing the plan I told them you were tired and nervous of sitting around Amsterdam with suitcase of green waiting to hear from them, you’d rebanked your moneys and were flying back to U.S. They did not like to hear that. So—” he nodded at the bag—“here it is the weekend, and banks are closed, and you are bringing what cash you have, and—well, they have been talking to me plenty, lots of time on the phone and I have met with them once already down in a bar in the Red Light, but they have agreed to bring the painting and make the exchange tonight without prior meeting of you, because I have told them your plane leaves tomorrow, and because they have fucked around on their end it is bank draft for the balance or nothing. Which —well, they did not like, but they accepted as proper explanation for bank draft. Makes things easier.” “Much easier,” said Boris. “I was not sure how bank draft was going to go over. Better if they think the bank draft is their own fault for dicking around.” “What’s the place?” “Lunchcafe.” He pronounced it as one word. “De Paarse Koe.” “That means ‘the Purple Cow’ in Dutch,” said Boris helpfully. “Hippie place. Close to the Red Light.” Long lonely street—shut-up hardware stores, stacks of brick by the side of the road, all of it important and hyper-significant somehow even though it was speeding by in the dark much too fast to see. “Food is so awful,” said Boris. “Sprouts and some hard old wheat toast. You would think hot girls go there but is just old gray-head women and fat.” “Why there?” “Because quiet street in the evening,” said Victor Cherry. “Lunchcafe is closed, after hours, but because semi-public nothing will get out of control, see?” Everywhere: strangeness. Without noticing it I’d left reality and crossed the border into some no-man’s-land where nothing made sense. Dreaminess, fragmentation. Rolled wire and piles of rubble with the plastic sheeting blown to the side. Boris was speaking to Victor in Russian; and when he realized I was looking at him, he turned to me. “We are only saying, Sascha is in Frankfurt tonight,” he said, “hosting party at a restaurant for some friend of his just got out of jail, and we are all of us confirmed on this from three different sources, Shirley too. He thinks he is being smart, staying out of town. If it gets back to Horst what has happened here tonight he wants to be able to throw up his hands and say, ‘Who, me? I had nothing to do with it.’ ” “You,” said Victor to me, “you are based in New York. I have said you are an art dealer, arrested for forgery, and now run an operation like Horst’s— much smaller scale in terms of paintings, much larger in terms of money.” “Horst—God bless him,” said Boris. “Horst would be the richest man in New York except he gives it all away, every cent. Always has. Supports many many persons besides himself.” “Bad for business.” “Yes. But he enjoys company.” “Junkie philanthropist, ha,” said Victor. He pronounced it philanthropist. “Good they die off time to time or who knows how many schmeckheads crammed in that dump with him. Anyway—less you say in there, the better. They will not be expecting polite conversation. This is all business. It will be fast. Give him the bank draft, Borya.” Boris said something sharp in Ukrainian. “No, he should produce it himself. It should be from his hand.” Both bank draft, and deposit slip, were printed with the words Farruco Frantisek, Citizen Bank Anguilla, which only increased the sense of dream trajectory, a

track speeding up too fast to slow down. “Farruco Frantisek? I’m him?” Under the circumstances it felt like a meaningful question—as if I might be somehow disembodied or at least had passed beyond a certain horizon where I was freed of basic facts like identity. “I did not choose the name. I had to take what I could get.” “I’m supposed to introduce myself as this?” There was something wrong with the paper, which was too flimsy, and the fact that the slips said Citizen Bank and not Citizen’s Bank made them look all wrong. “No, Cherry will introduce you.”

Farruco Frantisek. Silently I tried the name out, turned my tongue around it. Even though it was a hard name to remember, it was just strong and foreign enough to carry the lost-in-space hyperdensity of the black streets, tram tracks, more cobblestones and neon angels—back in the old city now, historic and unknowable, canals and bicycle racks and Christmas lights shaking on the dark water. “When were you going to tell him?” Victor Cherry was asking Boris. “He needs to know what his name is.” “Well now he knows.” Unknown streets, incomprehensible turns, anonymous distances. I’d stopped even trying to read the street signs or keep track of where we were. Of everything around me—of all I could see—the only point of reference was the moon, riding high above the clouds, which though bright and full seemed weirdly unstable somehow, void of gravity, not the pure anchoring moon of the desert but more like a party trick that might pop out at a conjurer’s wink or else float away into the darkness and out of sight.

[owlhart]

This Is The Way

So this is the way that I say I need you.

Winter tumbled headfirst into spring, luscious fields of green scattered with magneta ginatias and white myrtle peaking through the melting snow as blowballs swayed in the warm breeze and hellebores danced under the golden sunlight. The skies were painted a baby blue, white wispy streaks of clouds floating lazily across it and Triss would have loved for nothing more than to lie on the grass and stare at the clouds all day. But alas, she was stuck inside the Tretogor palace at a summit with Foltest, who was bickering over something trivial with Vizimir. 

The meeting dragged on and on and on and despite her best efforts to focus on the matters being discussed, her mind wandered off before being pulled back to the present when she felt the weight of Philippa’s gaze burning into the side of her face, heavy and restless. Triss wet her lips unconsciously and Philippa’s eyes flickered down towards them briefly before snapping up to meet her eyes. Triss shot her a curious look but Philippa withdrew into herself - not visibly but Triss knew her well enough by now to recognise the signs - walls slipping back into place, and the moment of connection was broken.

When the two monarchs had grown tired of arguing, they retired into the dining hall for a drink - though to be honest, Triss thought she also deserved a drink - leaving the two sorceresses alone in the great hall. Triss moved over to stand beside Philippa, who was simply staring out the large glass windows.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Triss said, “but you seem like you have a lot on your mind.” 

Philippa’s shoulders deflated ever so slightly.

“I always do.”

They shared in the heavy silence for a while before Triss turned to leave, only for Philippa to catch her by the hand. Triss let out a soft gasp and glanced over her shoulder. Philippa was still staring out the window and she had never looked beautiful than now, bathed in the warm orange glow of the setting sun.

“Stay.”

The single word lacked Philippa’s usual authoritative tone but was instead tinged with hesitance and uncertainty, a cross between a question and a plea. 

Triss recognised the unspoken meaning and she nodded, brushing a thumb across the back of Philippa’s hand.

“Ok.”

And Philippa smiled.

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

This is the way that I say I love you.

Summer rolled in like a heat wave, and everything from the temperatures, the colours and people’s emotions, seemed to intensify. 

After much pleading and cajoling, Philippa had allowed Triss to drag her to Toussaint on one of those rare weekends when neither of them had to attend to any pressing matters.

Beauclair was bustling with life with all its sophistication and elegance, and the two of them spent the better part of the day wandering through the maze of multi-coloured buildings, heels clicking on the cobblestones and hands brushing against each others. Philippa ordered a few boxes of Everluce and Est Est from the winery to be sent to Montecalvo and Triss restocked on some rare herbs at the herb store. They explored every nook and cranny of the city, ambling past the jewellers - Triss’ eyes almost popped out at the size of one of the sapphires which Philippa found comically appealing - and the perfumery and the tavern.  

And when Triss’ stomach started to protest quite loudly, Philippa let out a low chuckle and led Triss to the Knights Dormant Square, where they sat down outdoors at a restaurant overlooking the lake, the Beauclair Palace a majestic background against the backdrop of the surrounding mountains. 

Triss wished that she could capture this moment - a profile of Philippa glancing out at the waters that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, swirling her Fiorano with a content smile tugging at the corner of her lips - it was absolutely picturesque.

“I wish we could have more time to enjoy life like this,” Triss mused, resting her chin on her palm.

Philippa hummed in agreement, taking a sip from her glass slowly. 

“We will, once we’ve changed the world.”

Triss stared out across the lake, trying to hide the blush flaring up in her cheeks. “We?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘we’.”

“And?”

A heat started creeping up the back of her neck and Triss rubbed at it nervously.

“It’s nothing.”

Philippa placed her glass down on the table, eyes softening a fraction. “It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you that much.”

Triss bit her bottom lip, taking her time to collect her thoughts. Philippa waited patiently, neither pressing her nor dismissing her, and for that, Triss was grateful.

“Sometimes, I just don’t feel like I’m good enough. I know I am. But sometimes...it’s just a feeling, like I’m not as powerful or as experienced or beautiful,” her hand fiddled with the collar of her blouse, “and...I don’t know, I just look around me and...I wish I could be...more. Just more.” Triss winced sheepishly. “Never mind, I’m just being silly. Forget I said anything.”

Pursing her lips, Philippa turned to face Triss fully with a serious expression.

“It’s easy to doubt yourself, but you are beautiful and you are powerful. And your power and experience will increase over time. Wanting to achieve more is not a bad thing by any means. But do not change for anyone else. You are who you are, who you can be, who you want to be, regardless of what others may think or what they expect you to be. Don’t compare yourselves to them, because they don’t hold a candle to you.”

Triss sucked in a breath, looking slightly emotional. 

“Thank you.” - for believing in me; for loving me and for loving me for who I am.

Nodding, Philippa took another sip of her wine and slid a velvet box across the table almost casually.

Triss’ eyes bugged out once again at the cornflower blue sapphire pendant hanging from the silver chain.

“It reminded me of your eyes,” Philippa shrugged.

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

This is the way that I say I’m yours.

Summer eased into autumn seamlessly, warm shades of red, orange and yellow washing away the cooler blues and greens. 

Philippa had been gone for the whole day, attending the autumn solstice festival with a noblewomen and Triss could only imagine the more intimate activities they would get up to that night. And against her better judgement, jealousy curled around her heart with a vicelike grip and try as she may, she could not shake the feeling, no matter how much she told herself that Philippa was only doing it to obtain information and leverage.

It was irrational and it was unfounded, but insecurity and lack of confidence was something that had been engrained in her since she had been young. She had gotten better at overcoming such flaws but now and again, they would rear their ugly heads and she would have to fight to avoid sinking into the abyss.

Sleep evaded her most of the night and by the time Philippa returned the next morning, the anxiety in her heart had grown, lodging itself in her throat and twisting her stomach and gut unforgivingly.

“Triss?”

Her head snapped up towards the sound when Philippa stepped into the room.

“What’s wrong?”

Triss flinched slightly at the hard tone. Wringing her hands frantically, she mumbled, “nothing, I just...you...you were just gone for a while and I was wondering when you’d be back and-”

“Triss,” Philippa interrupted, taking both of Triss’ hands in her own. “Stop pacing. Look at me.”

Triss stopped, insecurity fluttering across her face. Philippa held her gaze, leaning forward and touching her forehead against hers as she placed Triss’ hand over her chest. The rhythmic thumping of Philippa’s heart pulsed against Triss’ fingertips, steady and soothing. 

She knew how Philippa felt about her - Philippa would never voice it in such obvious terms but she would let Triss know in her way. Still, there was always an insecurity tucked away in the back of her mind, a little part of her that always needed reassurance. It was stupid because she knew better - she knew Philippa’s mind, she knew her heart. She knew Philippa.

It was stupid.

It was so stupid.

Gods, she was so stupid.

The tears fell from Triss’ eyes and Philippa shushed her gently, giving her hand a little squeeze and pressing it harder against her chest, fingers splayed between the gaps of hers.

It beats - “For you and only you.”

Triss nodded wordlessly, biting her lip to keep the sobs from escaping even though her shoulders shook with the effort.

Philippa kissed away her tears.

“And you have all of it.”

Triss buried her face into the crook of Philippa’s neck and Philippa wrapped the younger sorceress in her embrace.

“All of it.”

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

This is the way that I’m learning to breathe.

The trees shed their autumn robes of fire red and golden yellow and the thick carpet of crisp leaves was soon replaced with a velvety bed of snow. Triss breathed in the sweetness of the air with a blissful smile, the chill sending goosebumps across her arms almost deliciously. 

She had always loved everything about winter - the crisp air, the shimmering drift of snowflakes, the refreshing crunch of the snow beneath her feet - there was a tranquility and a sense of freedom that she associated with the whiteness of winter.

The gentle flapping of wings caught her attention and she looked up just in time to see a grey owl soar through the air, dipping down gently as it drew closer before landing on her shoulder. 

“Hitching a ride?” Triss twisted her head and placed a tender kiss on its beak. “Are you tired already?”

Philippa gave her a piercing look and let out a quiet hoot in response before she started fluffing her feathers. Triss smiled fondly and rubbed the top of her head, relishing the softness of her feathers. Philippa hunkered down at her touch and shifted slightly closer to Triss’ cheek, eyes sliding close in comfort.

Triss continued on her way, the rhythm of her footsteps lulling Philippa into a semi-conscious state and she nestled her head against the welcome warmth of Triss’ cheek. Triss slowed to a stop at the steps of the staircase leading from the garden to the castle of Montecalvo and turned to look once more across the blanket of snow.

She inhaled deeply and her heart swelled at the same time.

“I love you very much,” she whispered to the sky.

Philippa nuzzled her chin affectionately, a hoot rumbling in her chest, and Triss had never felt more content.

[dawnwave16]

Marinette and her Dragon

I think I’ve dropped a couple of teasers about this story along with one other, however, this one came easier to me so it gets posted first!  This is a one shot and is open ended as I suck at writing definate endings so Enjoy! 

Story:

It was a normal Saturday morning in the bakery when Marinette first met Tōshirō Hitsugaya. He had come in looking for watermelon flavoured treats and had been slightly disappointed when she told him that they didn't have any in stock. In truth, they had never made anything that was watermelon flavoured before but Tom Dupain had a standing policy that should a flavour be requested even once, they would attempt to make something in that flavour. The easiest thing to make in multiple flavours was macaroons but if the person who requested the unstocked flavour had a particular treat in mind, that is what they would attempt to make.

As Marinette knew this policy all too well she had immediately asked the white-haired teen if he had any preferences only to discover that as long as it wasn't too sweet, he'd enjoy it. Marinette didn't think much of it she just told him that they would have an array for him to try next Saturday and after getting his agreement that that arrangement was ok, Marinette moved on to the next customer.

She spent all day on Sunday working with her Maman trying different recipes that she could adapt to have watermelon as the main flavour, only to find the ones that worked best was indeed macaroons and surprisingly enough, a cheesecake. She hoped that he would enjoy the treats when he came in to try them.

Monday morning came as it usually did, though this time there was the added bonus of it raining heavily. She had cursed slightly when she had seen this as she hadn't closed her skylight properly after the previous nights akuma fight but kept running towards the school, planning on texting her mother as soon as she could to as her to close the skylight for her. She knew she would have to change her bedding either way though!

She had been worrying about her skylight so much that she didn't notice that there was a new student in her class until Mlle Bustier asked her to please show him around and make sure he was comfortable. She nodded in greeting to him which he returned but they didn't try talking as Mlle Bustier had started her lesson already. While showing him around the school she came to understand that he wasn't the most expressive person and decided to give him her number if he ever needed it but with the understanding that she didn't expect him to do anything with it. She also filled him in about the akumas and how to avoid them and or how to avoid becoming one herself.

It was three weeks later that Marinette received the fright of her life. She had been on patrol, once again it was a solo one due to a temper tantrum from the brat she called a partner when she saw someone who looked very similar to her new classmate sitting quietly on a roof. She made her way towards him taking in his clothes as she did so. He was wearing a sleeveless white haori which had a green sash around his shoulders and it looked like it was being held together by a star-like clip. It looked to Marinette like the sash was holding a sword's sheath in place on his back. Marinette stopped for a second to wonder where he got the sword before continuing towards him. It was only as she reached him that she remembered that she was still transformed into Ladybug but knew it was too late to turn around.

 * * * * * * *

Tōshirō hated the assignment he was currently on. Not only did he know he would have a mountain of paperwork to complete by the time he got back, but he was around more teenagers than he was used to. Even when Ichigo was around there weren't as many as there currently was around him. He was glad that he could walk around without having anybody expecting from him for the most part but he still didn't like it. He had only just started the assignment when he decided to check where or who the high reiatsu he was sensing was coming from. To his surprise, it was from a small, dark-haired girl that was working behind the counter in the bakery he had just walked into. He had asked for watermelon flavoured pastries as a cover but was surprised when she had informed him that while they didn't have any that week they would the next week. He asked why and was further surprised about the policy that the owners had regarding flavours. 

When she arrived in his class and then was instructed to show him around the school, he had half expected her to be just as bubbly as she had been while behind the counter at the bakery. It was due to this that he had to hide a frown when instead of being bright and bubbly, she was quiet and almost withdrawn as though she was trying to make herself invisible or at least less of a target. Even her reiatsu was more contained. Tōshirō stayed quiet throughout the lessons and asked a few questions about the school during the tour. He listened intently as she told him about the akumas that plagued the city and how to avoid making himself a target and for a while he thought that was the reason for the drastic change in her behaviour. He discarded that notion fairly quickly though as if that was the case her behaviour wouldn't have changed.

After she left his side for a bit he got his answer. A group of his classmates cornered him, telling him that Marinette was a bully and that she was constantly picking on Lila. The stories they told didn't make sense to him though as his encounters and observations suggested something completely different. He hadn't agreed but nor had he disagreed with his classmates by the time they left however it seemed Marinette had witnessed the confrontation and had stayed quiet ever since. For the next two weeks, she didn't reach out to him except to help with classwork when he asked. In fact, Tōshirō noticed she stayed quiet in general and on the nights when there had been akuma attacks, she came to school with a large carry mug of green tea loaded with honey. It was seeing this and remembering his early days as a captain in gotei 13, where he would fight hollows all night and still go to his office in the morning to get the paperwork done.

It was less than a week after he came to the conclusion that his ostracised classmate was Ladybug that he got his first alert for a hollow being in the area. The fight had been extremely easy, and there was no damage that would have to be explained away so he decided to sit on a rooftop to relax and possibly get some thinking done. He soon lost track of time as he gazed at the slightly cloudy night sky when he felt the same large reiatsu that he always felt around Marinette and turned to see Ladybug walking towards him. 

“Tōshirō, what are you doing out so late? Are you alright?” Tōshirō smiled at the concern he heard in her voice as she spoke softly to him.

“I'm fine, Ladybug, just needed to think.”

“Oh. Is that why you are wearing clothes from your home country instead of...” She slapped a hand over her mouth and went bright red. Tōshirō glanced down to make sure nothing had moved in the slight breeze then looked at her on confusion when he saw nothing out of place and thus nothing to cause her any embarrassment. 

“Ladybug?”

“I can't believe I asked that! Bad enough I called you by your name! I am such a spaz...” She muttered covering her face with her hands and squeezing her eyes closed. Tōshirō smiled as he got the answer to his unspoken question. She had revealed that she knew him despite never having met him as Ladybug and she was feeling guilty about the mistake. He got to his feet and walked over to her, then in a move that would have shocked everyone who knew him, he gently grasped her wrists and moved them away from her face.

“Hey, it's alright, I already knew who you were.”

He regretted saying that straight away as she went rigid and almost growled “How? I've always been careful! How did you know who I am?”

“Can we go somewhere a little more private so that I can explain?” She appeared to think for a moment then nodded. She turned and started to move away before stopping and turning to him. 

“The best spot is probably at the bakery. Can you get there yourself or do I need to carry you?”

“I can get there myself and I promise I'll explain how when I explain how I know your identity.” She nodded and turning again, flung her yo-yo out to cross the gap between buildings until they reached the balcony above the bakery. When he arrived soon after, she nodded and opened the skylight and stepped through it indicating that he should do the same. He was surprised when he landed on a bed and was about to say something when he saw that she had made her way to the main floor of the room and had flopped back onto the computer chair. He made his way down the stairs and sat on the chaise then had to wince as a bright light flashed briefly in the semi-darkness.

“Marinette! You shouldn't -”

“He already knew, Tikki. I was about to find out how but thought you'd like to hear his explanation too.” Marinette said tiredly to the floating red thing that she had called Tikki. Tikki turned and looked at him, tilting her head to the side and blinked.

“Oh, that explains it.” She stated calmly.

“Explains what, Tikki?” Marinette asked in exasperation.

“He's a Shinigami, and as such is immune to the glamour that comes with the Miraculous.”

“A Shinigami? Wait not like Ryuk, right? And what glamour Tikki?” Marinette was clearly trying to keep her voice down, which Tōshirō appreciated but he was very confused by the reference to someone called Ryuk.

“Yes, a shinigami but no not like Ryuk, Marinette. That anime got the role of shinigami so wrong which is why I always get annoyed when you watch it. A shinigami guides souls to the afterlife or purifies corrupted ones called hollows much like you purify akumas. They don't see what the hollow looks like once purified though as in most cases the soul will move on to the afterlife once it's purified. In cases where the soul was evil even before it became a hollow, defeating the soul will send it to hell but that's really rare!” Tōshirō nodded when Marinette looked at him for confirmation of Tikki's words. 

“Ok that answers about what shinigami are but what about that explains the glamour you mentioned? Or how he can see through it?” Marinette pushed.

“When we choose a wielder we cast a mild glamour over their civilian form that basically redirects everyone's attention when you need a getaway to transform. If someone tries to watch you transform it will blind them temporarily and they won't remember that they were with you when you transformed unless you give them your permission to do so, then the blindness won't bother them either. In the case of cameras, it will blur the image and no amount of filtering will clean up the image to get a positive ID, though this only kicks in when you are needing to transform. As shinigamis deal primarily with souls, the glamour doesn't affect them nor do any of the other side effects of the glamour. He also can't be akumatised but the miraculous cure can heal him if he is hurt or caught in an attack.” Tikki explained. It was clear Marinette still had questions about what Tikki had said but she seemed to accept it all and moved her focus onto him.

“So, what are you going to do with the information and how long have you known? What brought you to Paris in the first place?”

“I wasn't planning on saying anything to anyone about your identity, to the point where I haven't even included it in my reports as it has no relevance to Gotei 13 nor to the council.” He sighed, thinking then gave Marinette a run down about reiatsu, the ranking system they had so as to explain why he was sent instead of anyone with a lower rank and even how hollows were formed. He even told her about how her reiatsu had attracted the attention of Gotei 13 and their worry about it after the drama that had happened with Ichigo, “That's mostly why I'm here” He concluded before he glanced out the window and his eyes widened in surprise at seeing that dawn was breaking. Have we really been talking for that long? He thought. Thank Kami that today is Saturday and we don't have classes today.

Marinette had followed his gaze and groaned. “Well, today is going to be fun!” She moaned sarcastically before continuing when he shot her a confused look. “I have to work in the bakery with my parents today and we didn't get any sleep. If I sleep now I'll get an hour, two at most before having to get up to help anyway and I'll feel worse then I would if I did sleep than if I didn't.”

“Oh! Sorry about that we should have kept an eye on the time.”

“Yeah we should have,” she replied then glanced to the side and smiled, “At least Tikki got some sleep!” They both laughed softly at that before Tōshirō left with the promise to keep their friendship and her identity secret.

 * * * * * * * *

A month had passed since that all-night conversation and the two of them had become even better friends. They had even asked Tikki if it was possible for Tōshirō to use a Miraculous if he needed to and they were both relieved that it was indeed possible. Marinette was getting better at keeping her reiatsu under control in order to avoid accidentally attracting hollows to herself and it had helped her with her emotions as well which she was happy about. 

A change to her fighting style and even her strategising had taken place when Tikki had revealed that there was a way to link the miracle box to her yo-yo as she was the current guardian, which helped shorten the akuma battles immensely. Due to Miricle Queen, she hadn't been using the various temporary holders she had originally chosen, which had most of them sulking but she had a duty as Ladybug to keep everyone safe and she was determined to do just that. She also didn't trust Alya, Nino or any of her classmates other then Tōshirō thanks to Lila so they were all out of the question as temporary holders anyway. Even her crush on Adrien had vanished due to his lack of spine. She was still grateful that Master Fu hadn't left the scans and translations of the grimoire on the tablet but had transferred it to a flash drive, which he had given her almost as soon as the theory part of her training was completed as a safety measure. While Hawkmoth had managed to get the tablet everything had been done on, it had been whipped by professionals so there was nothing on it except Master Fu's cute animal pictures.

Unfortunately, Chat had seemed to notice this and kept pushing for her to share the guardian's duties with him and his temper tantrums had resulted in her telling him to grow up more than once. She had noticed that he was unable to see Tōshirō when he was in his soul form and that had resulted in yet another long and uncomfortable conversation with Tikki. Apparently, he wasn't a true match for the black cat miraculous, so it wasn't giving him the same boosts as the ladybug one was giving her. Eventually, they had decided he had until the end of the month to either shape up or he would be replaced.

The number of akumas that had been sent out had remained the same but the number of amoks had dropped to one every two to three months so Marinette knew they were due for one soon. It was just her luck that on the day the amok- akuma duo struck on a Friday whilst Tōshirō was visiting her. Marinette heard the scream first so she spun the computer chair around to check her computer for details and grumbled under her breath. She sighed when she saw that there was a sentimonster as well as the akuma so she knew she would need extra back up. However, as she watched a plan formed in her mind that would work whether or not Chat showed up. She quickly walked over to the Miricle Box and pulled out the Dragon Miraculous as well as the Fox.

Tōshirō looked at her as she walked over to him and offered the Dragon Miraculous to him. “Are you sure?” He asked quietly.

“I'm sure,” she answered even as she put on the Fox Miraculous.

He nodded and greeted Longg before they both transformed. Due to using a combination, Marinette's costume looked very different from what she normally did. The red was now a rusty red rather than her usual scarlet. Instead of gaining a tail like Rena Rouge did, her hair lengthened like it did when she and Chat had accidentally swopped miraculi. Instead of one braid though she had nine trailing down her back, all from one high ponytail, each tipped in the same rusty red as her suit. She still had her spots, however, she now had panelling of pure black that formed a corset as well as arm guards and thigh-high boots. Her mask remained the same except for the colour changing from scarlet to rust like the rest of her suit.

Tōshirō, on the other hand, seemed to be paying a tribute to his Zanpakutou, Hyourinmaru and his element of ice. His hero costume looked very similar to his shinigami uniform but without his haori and it was an icy blue colour instead of being black. His normal sash was holding the sword that came with the Dragon Miraculous and the Dragon symbol replaced his star sharped pin. The sash, much like the rest of the detailing on his outfit was a teal green that matched his normal eye colour. His mask had a scaled effect in ice blue and teal on it as well as lenses that gave him amber reptilian eyes much like the way Chat's gave Chat cat eyes. It was very striking in Marinette's opinion, as well as being very stylish. 

Due to her preplanning and Tōshirō's experience battling hollows, the battle was over relatively quickly. Tōshirō had taken out the sentimonster while she had concentrated on the akuma of the day. They had switched briefly so that she could cleanse the amok, then they tag teamed each other with the akuma. They were about to finish the battle off without her having to call on her lucky charm when Chat arrived. As usual, he threw a temper-tantrum about the fact that she had called on a new Hero, Kōri no ryū. He was highly annoyed at the fact that he hadn't been consulted on who to choose, as well as the fact that the new hero was male. She exchanged a glance with Kōri no ryū and he nodded slightly, which caused her to sigh. She tuned out Chat's voice and quickly finished off the akuma sending both the purified feather and butterfly on their way. 

She then turned her attention to Chat, who was still moaning and hadn't moved from the spot he'd been on since he'd arrived. This hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of the population of Paris and they were all muttering to each other as they watched Ladybug to see how she reacted. She felt more than saw Kōri no ryū walk up to join her so she murmured a quick query about how much time he had left, only to find out that Longg had told him due to his shinigami status he didn't have a time limit. As her eyes had never left Chat she saw him take a deep breath to prepare for his next round of complaints. 

“Do you even hear yourself right now, Chat Noir? You rarely show up to fights after you throw one of these fits, you always complain about the fact that I have the responsibilities of Guardian yet you show no maturity when it comes to battles and almost invariably gets controlled by the akuma if it has mind control capabilities. Do you even bother with doing your patrols on the nights when you are meant to be doing a solo patrol? Don't bother answering, I know the answer is no.” Ladybug closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. “With this in mind 'Wǒ, piáo chóng, dōngbù hǎiguī hézi de shǒuhù zhě, zài cǐ, xiàng nín (qiáo tè·nuò yī) bōduó nín de zhízé hé “hēi māo de qíjī”. Rúguǒ nín kàngjù, nín jiāng miànlín rènwéi héshì de hòuguǒ.'” 

Chat stared at her, making it clear that he spoke Chinese and understood what she had said. Although the crowd didn't seem to understand they did notice the glow that was starting to come from Char's ring.

“If you wish for your identity to remain a secret I suggest to leave now and send the ring with Plagg and Kōri no ryū as he is a permanent holder. However, if you wish to fight you have less then three minutes to do so. Do you understand?”

Chat growled low in his throat before trying to call 'Cataclysm' only for it not to work. 

“Plagg no longer has to respect your control therefore he won't let you use the full extent of his powers. You now have less than two minutes and counting.” Ladybug said looking completely relaxed, while still being ready to fight the second Chat tried to make a move to fight them. He seemed to fold in on himself as he realised that not only had everyone witness his attempt to kill Ladybug or Kōri no ryū but that Ladybug was serious about taking away his miraculous and exposing him. He was about to leave when his time ran out and with a bright flash of green light, Adrien Agreste stood where Chat Noir had once been. Plagg flew out the ring and grabbed it off of Adrien's limp fingers, flying onto Ladybugs outstretched hand.

“For what it's worth Adrien, I'm sorry it came to this. I just wish you could have grown up instead of acting exactly the same way you did when we were just starting to fight against Hawkmoth. I also hope you know better than to be akumatised over this.” Her voice was soft and those closest to her could see that she was trying not to cry. Adrien nodded and simply walked away, knowing that he was currently prime akuma bait with his tremulous emotions but also knowing he would fight tooth and nail against being possessed.

Ladybug cast her miracle cure and Kōri no ryū used the Kikanshinki wipe away any evidence that Adrien was Chat Noir as well as remove the memory of what had just happened and replace it with an extended battle followed by an announcement introducing him and about Chat retiring as he was moving. He left Adrien and Marinette unaffected though and told her what he'd done as soon as they were back in her room.

Marinette was so thankful for what Tōshirō had done and so overwhelmed by what had just taken place that she couldn't help it. She burst into tears. Tōshirō wrapped his arms around her and let her cry all her emotions out while Tikki kept an eye out for akuma butterflies. Marinette had cried herself out within an hour but instead of falling asleep like her body practically demanded she do, she sat up and sighed. 

“Tōshirō, I meant what I said about you being a permanent holder until Hawkmoth has been defeated. Unfortunately, I also have what may seem like a random question to ask you. It may seem like I'm trying to use you for your shinigami abilities but I promise I'm not.” He silenced her rambles with a quick, soft kiss then smiled as he watched her try to get her brain back under control.

“I know you wouldn't ask me to use my skills unless you had a really good reason.” He said softly.

“Why did you...” Her voice trailed off as she gazed up at him.

“Two reasons. One, you were starting to ramble and as cute as it is I thought it would be better to stop you from getting totally confused by your own rambles.” He smiled indulgently at the pout on her face as he said that. “And two, I've wanted to do that for a while now and I couldn't help it.” She looked at him with wide eyes so he nudged her slightly. “We can talk about that later, you wanted to ask me to do something but got yourself distracted, so feel free to ask. If I can't do it due to rules that I have to follow or for personal reasons I'll tell you.”

Marinette nodded then started to speak softly, “When Lila first came to our school she stole a book that Adrien had stolen from his Dad's safe earlier that day. Tikki identified it as the Guardian's Grimore and urged me to take it to Master Fu, which I did after I saw Lila throw it away. It also got me thinking that M. Agreste could be Hawkmoth. Chat hadn't liked the idea and I see now why but he also agreed that it was a strong possibility at first. Anyway, my question is would it be possible for you to scout around the Agreste Mansion while in your soul form to see if you can confirm it? If so it would probably be best for you to leave soon as he's likely to try to confront Adrien about why he's so upset. Either that or he'll still be transformed and trying to send out a new akuma. I suspect that Nathalie is Mayura but I'm not sure. If she is she'll be extremely sick right now and so there is also the possibility that M. Agreste will be trying to tend to her.”

Tōshirō nodded in agreement with her theory then popped a soul candy to ditch his Gigai. He was half surprised to see the Dragon Miraculous was still around his neck but smiled in thanks anyway. He gave Marinette another quick kiss then headed out. She directed the false soul that was currently in his gigai to lay on the chaise as though he had fallen asleep, which is all she felt like doing. Instead, she focused on making sure she had some watermelon flavoured treats ready for when he got back, then went to work on her homework.

She got most of it done by the time Tōshirō returned from his scouting mission she had completed everything that she could, catching up to where she should be and had a list of questions about certain concepts to ask when she got back to school on Monday. All she'd had to do was take a quick glance at his face to know that her suspicions were confirmed. He flopped back into his gigai with a groan, the devoured the treats she had out for him and gratefully accepted the glass of ice tea that she offered him.

“It's worse then we thought.” He started with a sigh after a moment. “M. Agreste is definitely Hawkmoth while his assistant was Mayura. This last amok she sent out killed her and her negative emotions at her time of death caused her to become a hollow just as I arrived, so I had to fight her first. Thankfully, she wasn't sent to Hell for her actions but it wasn't an easy fight either way. M. Agreste doesn't seem to have realised that she's died yet so I was able to get the Peacock Miraculous before I carried on.” He handed it to her as he took another drink from his tea, wishing it was Sake but knowing he shouldn't drink. “I had a look around before I left again. It looks like M. Agreste has his wife in suspended animation underneath the house. However, while her body is perfectly preserved, her soul chain is cut and there's no sign of her soul anywhere. Not even the faintest trace of reiatsu remains meaning she is well and truly dead.”

“I guess we know what M. Agreste's wish is then, he wants to use it to bring her back. While the miraculous wish would work, the price should he get that wish is too horrific to contemplate!” 

“I agree. We can't let that happen, no matter the cost.”

They checked the time and decided they had done all they could for that day as it was 10 PM and Marinette was on duty in the Bakery the next day. They had also ignored the fact that he had kissed her twice and that they had yet to talk about it. He brushed himself off then stood up and Marinette did the same thing. 

“Do you want to come to supper tomorrow night? It's my turn to cook and I'm going to be making Amanattō for dessert.”

“You are spoiling me, Mari,” he murmured even as he nodded in agreement. Just as he turned to leave Marinette walked over to him and kissed him, taking him by surprise.

“You aren't the only one who has wanted to do that. You just happened to beat me to it.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time Monday arrived they had confirmed that they liked each other and that they wanted to date, but they also wanted to wait until Hawkmoth was gone before they settled anything. They didn't know what would happen with Gotei 13 and if he would be allowed to stay once everything was stabilised so they made a few contingency plans as a precaution. When Hawkmoth was defeated, Tōshirō would return to the Seireitei to find out what his new orders were. If he was to stay there, Marinette would move to, Karakura Town and continue her studies there. She wasn't all that attached to Paris anymore and while she loved her parents they weren't as close as they once were.

The plan to take Hawkmoth down was simple. Luka would wield the Turtle Miraculous whilst Kagami would use the Bee. Marinette would use both the Fox and the Ladybug again. They would sneak in late on Friday night and Kagami would use Venom to paralyse M. Agreste before he could react. They knew they would only have five minutes to work after that so Kōri no ryū would raid the house for any and all Miraculous related artefacts with Luka, while they were doing that Marinette would take the Butterfly Miraculous away from M. Agreste and force him to listen to what the consequences of his actions would have been had he won. The four of them would then use a spell designed to prevent someone from ever being able to recognise a miraculous ever again to prevent M. Agreste from coming after the Miricle Box once they left.

School that week seemed to drag. Everyone was talking about the new hero and at the surprising news of Chat stepping down. Adrien seemed even more withdrawn than normal but everyone put it down to Nathalie's death and not the fact that he used to be Chat Noir. Eventually, though Friday arrived and everything was ready. Kōri no ryū and MiShell were ready to move as soon as Sasu Hachi (Stinging Bee) stung M. Agreste. The plan worked flawlessly as they snuck in and soon Ladybug was explaining exactly what would have happened had he won to M. Agreste. As everything that was miraculous related seemed to radiate a small amount of reiatsu it was all found relatively quickly. Then the spell was cast and they were all gone as though they had never been there. 

The planned press release was given to Nadja via Marinette who said it had been delivered to her by Ladybug with the request that it be aired on Sunday as a special broadcast. Nadja was only too happy to do so as she knew that if Ladybug asked for something to be released then it was obviously the scoop of a lifetime. She was confused as to why Ladybug was leaving the disk for her and not for the Ladyblogger but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The note on the front asked that the disk's contents be aired without any editing, as well as without anyone watching it first. T.Vi was wary of doing that but they chose to trust Ladybug and did as they had been asked.

They, along with the rest of Paris, were stunned when they saw what was on the disk. The last thing they had expected was a recording showing four Heros standing in front of the original statue that had been erected in Ladybug and Chat Noir's honour all those years ago. They didn't expect to hear the news that HawkMoth and Mayura had been defeated and that it was doubtful that any of the heroes would ever be seen again due to how Ladybugs civilian form had been treated. Paris listened in horror as Ladybug told them of how she had been subjected to unspeakable betrayal and bullying as a civilian and how she had often wished that she could just give up and leave them to their fate. Ladybug then proceeded to tear apart ever lie that had been posted on the Ladyblog as well as call Alya and Lila stalkers while she cuddled into Kōri no ryū for comfort. She didn't talk about how she felt regarding Chat Noir and how he treated her, nor did she talk about their ever-increasing fights but as far as everyone was concerned there had been enough bombshells dropped for the day.

School on Monday morning was an interesting affair. Tōshirō had had to report in about everything that had been happening in Paris and unfortunately, he had to do so in person. This meant that Marinette would be facing her classmates alone as she didn't doubt that M. Agreste would have pulled Adrien from school for the day at least after he had found Nathalie dead and with the news that M.s Agreste was dead too. Not that Adrien would have stood up to help her anyway. 

The noise as she entered her class was deafening. Alya was busy screaming at Lila about her lies and how her blog was destroyed. The rest of the class were also screaming at Lila about various promises that had been made and demanding to know what else she had lied about. Marinette simply walked past everyone and made her way to her normal spot at the back of the classroom next to the window. Rose was the first to see her and she alerted the rest of the class to the fact that Marinette had arrived.

Soon there was a throng of people crowding around her desk and Marinette was ready to tear into them about their 

unfair expectations of her simply forgiving and forgetting everything when a woman with black hair walked into the classroom.

“Alright class, settle down now. I need to take the register and-” 

Before she could continue Alya yelled out, “Why should we listen to you? You are not Mlle Bustier! Where is she?”

“That will be detention for you, Mlle Césaire. As for who I am, I am Mme Ariès and I am your new teacher. Mlle Bustier has been fired due to her handling of this class and her handling of bullying in general. I'm sure she is a wonderful woman however, we need to carry on with your education, which you have all fallen behind in thanks to various factors. Now...”

Marinette tuned the rest of the new teacher's speech out as she got a message from Tōshirō, which she quickly checked while the teachers back was turned. Tōshirō had been told that he was not coming back to Paris, so he had set their plan in motion by contacting Kisuke Urahara. Kisuke would be in charge of creating a candy that would make her totally fluent in Japanese, not only speaking wish but being able to read and write it too. He would also be in charge of enrolling her in Karakura High School and making sure that Ichigo would be able to host her as he had recently married his long term girlfriend and they had their own house. She knew where Tōshirō had been staying so she would have to swing by there after school to fetch everything. 

Marinette nodded to herself sadly, she knew that what she had planned was for the best but she also knew she would miss Paris and her Parents. After class came to a close Marinette looked around the classroom one last time. She had some good memories of it but most of them were tainted by Lila and Hawkmoth. Feeling Tikki touch her leg through her small purse Marinette shook her head, then headed home to pack. By this time tomorrow, I'll be in Japan thanks to Kaalki. She thought to herself. I doubt anyone will even notice I'm gone, but I'm excited about what the future holds. For the first time since I became Ladybug, I'm free to choose my path. I can't help but wonder where it will take me though! 

(Translation into Chinese done by google translate – please let me know if it's wrong! Should read: I, Ladybug, Guardian of the Eastern Miricle Box, hereby strip you, Chat Noir, of your responsibilities and the Miraculous of the Black Cat. Should you resist you will face the consequences as deemed fit.) 

@northernbluetongue, @ilovechocomintcoffee (Please don’t injure yourself this time hun!)

[avengerscompound]

Like Rabbits - Chapter 9

Like Rabbits:  A Black Widow/WinterHawk Fanfic

Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Rating: E Square:  None

Word Count:  1790

Warnings:  Pregnancy stuff, smut (F|F, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, car sex)

Synopsis:  While you and Natasha are contemplating starting a family together, Bucky and Clint are doing the exact same thing.  So two couples go take the same path to parenthood together.

A/N: This is a Natasha/Reader chapter.

Chapter 9

After the initial few doctor's appointments where you were told you were going to be monitored a little more closely due to the higher risk of twins and the purchasing of all the things you needed such as anti-nausea medication, everything settled down a lot.  You weren’t showing yet, so there was no visible sign that you were pregnant other than the nausea which you were taking the medication to keep control over it, it wasn’t even bothering you that much.

So you, Natasha, Bucky, and Clint went about trying to find the perfect home for you all to raise your kids.

Initially there had been some toying with the idea of buying the lower level of a brownstone and renovating so instead of two apartments it was one that connected through the back and had access to the yard, but aside from the cost, it didn’t quite feel right.  The four of you looked at townhouses in Brooklyn and houses in New Jersey.  Jersey started to look closer to what you all wanted.  There were houses listed that were affordable and could possibly be worked into the design where each couple had their own private spaces but the kid's bedrooms were at a halfway point that allowed them to go between both.  Bucky wouldn’t have it though.  He said you might as well kill him if you were gonna force him to live in Jersey.

The farm idea was looking very tempting.  It would mean a huge lifestyle change though.  The farm was pretty far from the city.  If any of you wanted to keep Avenging there would need to be something worked out with Steve so that you weren’t always commuting in all the time.  Clint was the closest to being a country boy and even he never lived on a farm.  There was a big learning curve.

After browsing real estate listings and Clint getting excited about every single one, the four of you had started taking trips out to the country to look at real estate.  They were fun expeditions and you were glad you were making them before you got so big that the babies were sitting on your bladder.

It turned out looking at houses was quite fun too.  It was exciting to go through and have Clint tell you how he could knock down one wall or put up another.  How he could picture where the second kitchen would go and how he could strip the floors and polish them.  You liked walking the grounds with Bucky and having him tell you about where he’d put up the target range and where he’d keep his goats he was planning on getting.  Natasha liked to make claims on bedrooms and tell you how she’d change a bathroom so it could fit a big clawfoot tub that she was determined to have.

You’d seen about 6 houses now, but none were quite right.  Whether that be their distance to a decent school.  Or their lack of bathrooms which would make the renovation that much more expensive.  You were all getting to the point of admitting defeat and just buying a parcel of land and building from scratch.  It was debatable whether it would be more expensive that way or not, but at least you’d start off with exactly what you were looking for.

There was just one more that you’d been drooling over in the listings.  Not too far from a town, with a pool and lots of bedrooms and bathrooms.  It was even in the budget you had leaving enough for renovations.

Natasha pulled her car into the drive, followed by Clint and Bucky.  “We’ll have to change the color.”  She said as she put it into park.

“You don’t like blue?”  You asked.

She shook her head.  “Not that shade.  Not for a house.”

“Well, paint is the easy bit.”  You said getting out.

A woman came out of the house and introduced herself as the estate agent.  You had met so many now that you didn’t take note of her name.  She gave you a quick rundown.  Five bedroom, four bath, pool, formal lounge and dining, carriage house that can be renovated, barn, turn of the century.  You all listened on while pretending to look at cornicing and room size.  When she said she’d leave you all to look around, you finally started to look around properly.

“With the way, it’s laid out, formal lounge, dining room on one side, family room and kitchen nook on the other, if we just split the kitchen in two we have two completely separate living spaces,” Clint said as the four of you walked through the kitchen.

“The kitchen is definitely big enough for that too,” Bucky said running his hand over the floating counter.  “It’d cost less not having to put new plumbing and gas to a whole new area.”

“Be a little bit of a shame to lose this space,” you said.  “But it is definitely big enough.”

“Let’s go check out upstairs,”  Natasha said.

The four of you went back to the entrance and started your way up the spiral staircase.  “This will be the tricky bit.  I’ll have to pull this out and put in two new landings but we have time.  We can share for a bit.”  Clint said.

You reached the landing and you and Natasha went left to the turret while Clint and Bucky looked at the other rooms.  “Oh, this is our room.  She said going straight to the bay windows and looking out at the grounds.”

You moved up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist.  “I really like this one.”  You whispered.

“Mmm it looks good so far,” Natasha agreed.  “We can get a fourposter bed.  Imagine that.  Like actual princesses.”

You giggled and kissed the side of Natasha’s neck.  “Since when did you want to be a princess?”

Natasha turned in your arms and wrapped her arms around your waist.  “All that decadence and people to give you pedicures?  What’s not to love?”

“You dork.”  You teased and she kissed you deeply, pulling herself flush against you.

Bucky and Clint chose that moment to come into the room.   “This place is really laid out perfectly,”  Clint said, not waiting for you and Natasha to stop kissing.

Natasha pulled back and looked at him.  “How so?”

“The two bedrooms at the front of the house are much larger and have their own bathrooms.  The three at the back are smaller and share one,” Clint explained.  “It’s almost designed to be split into two.  It’s almost like a duplex that was shoved back together.”

“I think this might be it,”  Bucky said.

“Then let’s make an offer,”  Natasha said.

The four of you went back downstairs and filled out some paperwork.  You got into the car with Natasha buzzing with excitement.  “You think they’ll accept it?”  You asked.

“I think so.  It’s been on the market for a while and we offered asking,”  Natasha said.  “I don’t think it’ll be long before we’re moving in.”

You leaned in and kissed her neck.  “I’m so excited.  We can paint the kid’s rooms with murals.”

“We should ask Steve to do it.  I bet he would.”  Natasha hummed.

You put your hand on her thigh and kissed the side of her neck.  “I’m so excited.”

She chucked and caressed your jaw as she kept her focus on the road.  “I can tell.”

“Are you?”  You asked as you walked your fingers up her thigh.

“Yes, zaika,” she smirked.  “You seem to be extra excited though.”

“I am,” you whispered.  You nipped at her earlobe and slipped your hand into her yoga pants.

“Cheeky girl.”  She teased.  “Should I be pulling the car over?”

“Mmm, that might be a good idea.”  You hummed as you teased your fingers over her cunt.

She continued driving for a little while.  As she did you kissed her neck and ran your finger in tight circles over her clit.  It didn’t break her focus.  You wondered if there was anything that could really.

She pulled the car down a dirt side road and switched off the engine.  “Alright, my bad girl.  What are we going to do with you?”

She unclipped her seatbelt and climbed over the center console so she was straddling your lap.  You looked up at her, practically buzzing under her.  She leaned in and kissed you deeply, her thigh pushing against your cunt.  You ground against it, letting your arousal grow and seep from you.

As you kissed and ground against each other, you slipped your hand into her pants again.  Your fingers slid up and down her slicked folds, teasing her entrance and then dancing over her clit.  She mimicked your movements, her hand slipping up under your skirt and teasing your cunt.  When you thrust two fingers into her she thrust two into you.

You broke the kiss with a gasp and she looked down at you with the most intense expression on her face you’d ever seen.  It was like she was staring right into you.  She continued to mimic your movements.  When you curled your fingers she curled hers.  When you rubbed her clit with your thumb, her thumb rubbed against yours.  You began to move your hands in just the ways you liked best.  Seeking out her g-spot and stroking your fingers over it.  Corkscrewing your wrist and scissoring your fingers inside her, running your thumb over her clit in tighter and tighter circles.

The two of you began breathing heavily as you brought each other undone.  The whole time you kept your eyes locked together.  It was like you were trapped in the intensity of her gaze.  Her green eyes bore into you and you seemed to be timing your breathing with hers.

“Gonna come for me, zaika?”  She purred as she moved her fingers in your cunt.

“Are you?”  You breathed, matching her pace.

“Together then?”  She purred.

You gave a short nod and sped up your fingers.  Thrust and drag.  Thrust and drag.  Again and again over the spongy surface of her g-spot.  Your thumb rolled over her clit.  She did the same to you and almost at once you both bucked against each other and came.  “Fuck!”  You cried simultaneously.

She pulled her hand free and leaned in and kissed you passionately.  You slipped your hand free and wrapped your arms around her, returning the kiss.  Slowly she pulled back and climbed back into the driver’s seat.  “Now, zaika,” Natasha said, starting the car.  “If that’s how we celebrate making an offer, imagine how it will be when they accept it.”

You hummed, bucking back up and leaning against her shoulder.  “I can’t wait.”

// NEXT

[aegor-bamfsteel]

As Daeron, how u would have dealt with Daemon ?

You opened up a floodgate, anon.

The chances to neutralize Daemon (as opposed to other rebels/groups of rebels like Aegor, Fireball, Gormon Peake, Eustace Osgrey, the best knights of the realm, the marcher lords including House Yronwood, believers in Da3ron Falseborn theory, those who supported Daena as Queen, basically everyone else) as a threat to Da3ron’s rule are so numerous they’ve been a source of snark between me and @godihatethisfreakingcat​ for years now. The amount of missed opportunities Da3ron II had to make a friend/ally out of Daemon for me undermine textual claims of his kindness and intelligence. I’m going to try to prove in a 2000-word meta of counterfactual history that Da3ron never attempted to treat Daemon and Rohanne like part of his family or with the respect they deserved, but like inconvenient cast-offs he wanted out of his sight, but still not in a place where they’d gain any high position.

Starting scenario: The year is 184 AC and I am Da3ron Targaryen. Aegon IV has died, but I, loathing my slowly rotting father, refused to come to the capital until 2 weeks after his death, which meant I could not contest his decree legitimizing his natural children. One of those children is the son of Princess Daena, newly legitimized like the rest, but still a Waters and landless. My father promised the Archon of Tyrosh a dowry for the hand of Rohanne, probably a relative of his. What do I do?

Pay the dowry, but wed Rohanne to one of my sons instead. Breaking a betrothal is serious, but keeping the betrothal and switching the groom (after the other died or was disinherited) isn’t unheard of: Rhaelle Targaryen wed Ormund Baratheon when her brother Duncan was to marry his sister, Catelyn Tully wed Eddard Stark when she was betrothed to his brother Brandon, Sansa Stark married Tyrion Lannister (though Lancel was a possible spouse) after she was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon. Aegon may have wanted Daemon to wed Rohanne, but if Fire and Blood is any indication, a close female relative of the Archon is a match worthy of the heir to the Iron Throne—Rogar Baratheon wanted Jaehaerys I to wed the Archon’s daughter, and the Archon sent his sister to the 134 Maiden’s Day Ball in hopes of her marrying Aegon III. A landless natural son is far below Rohanne in terms of status, and the dowry the Archon was asking for probably reflected that. Perhaps Baelor was too important to wed to anyone but a Stormlander, but Aerys or even Rhaegel certainly would have been a better match for her on paper than Daemon. We don’t know how old Rohanne was (although I’m certain she was a few years older than Daemon), and Aerys was born between 172-76 and Rhaegel between 173-77, but bride-groom age gaps have certainly been larger, especially in this series. If my sons are already betrothed or this betrothal is too disruptive for my policy, I might be desperate enough to consider betrothing Rohanne to Brynden (Aegor gets no royal match as he’s a traitor’s son. I may be nice!Da3ron, but I’m still Da3ron), who I implausibly trust not to rebel. Super desperate would be trying to broker another betrothal between Shiera (or Mya or Gwenys, if they didn’t die in infancy) and the Archon/his ally, as was sort of floated around when Baela Targaryen might have been betrothed to Tyroshi admiral Racallio Ryndoon. If I can’t or won’t renegotiate the betrothal, I can:

Pay the dowry or part of the dowry in order to keep peace with the Archon, but have the High Septon annul the betrothal: I’m sure Rohanne as a Tyroshi didn’t keep the Seven, so the High Septon would be inclined to protest the marriage anyway. I would still need to pay a bit of that dowry or risk the wrath of Tyrosh, since in real life border wars have started due to dowries from stalled betrothals (Richard the Lionheart raided the county of Vexin though it was the dowry of his betrothed, Alys of France, because his parents refused to let them wed. He never got the Vexin, as Alys married Count William of Ponthieu). However, the Tyroshi-Targaryen alliance was originally thought up for Aegon IV’s future war with Dorne, and giving it up would signify to the Dornish that neither I nor my relatives had any intention of making war on them. So a bit of money (of which I have plenty of, see the “Rohanne and Daemon stay in the Crownlands” section) spent on the Archon’s goodwill seems like a wise investment. 

With Daemon unmarried and now with no standing betrothal, the best place for him is the Kingsguard. He’s the youngest knight of the realm and the wielder of Blackfyre, so he’s definitely skilled enough to join. We know he takes his knightly oaths very seriously, and the Kingsguard oath to protect the king is about as serious as it gets (Olyver Bracken and Raymun Mallery betrayed Maegor I by rebelling in favor of Jaehaerys I, but Jaehaerys still sent them to the Wall for violating their oath). Better yet, the Kingsguard is a celibate organization, so Daemon will not be able to pass on his claim or the Targaryen’s ancestral sword to his children.

If appointing Daemon to the Kingsguard doesn’t fit in with my policy, then I might send him to Sunspear, possibly with a betrothal to Roxana Sand (Born 162, so of marrying age with Daemon) who is Maron’s uncle Rhodry’s illegitimate daughter according to the MUSH RPG (which becomes more canon with each supplementary tie-in GRRM publishes). It took two years of negotiations for the Maron/Daenerys match to take place, and having Daemon there possibly betrothed could be used to gauge the popularity of a Targaryen/Martell match on Dornish soil. Prince Rhodry was an infamous separatist who killed King Da3ron I at the peace conference, so wedding his natural daughter to Daemon also helps quiet the ‘Keep Dorne Independent’ movement that is still ongoing, of which the Yronwoods were some of the biggest supporters. Amidst Da3ron’s strongest allies and wed to them by blood, Daemon would doubtlessly be loyal.

If I think Roxana is too old, I use the Daemon/Daenerys relationship and make him her sworn shield, then send him south to prepare for her marriage: Not an especially good idea as he’s still unbetrothed, and it might cause the Martells to raise some eyebrows, but it gives those two a chance to be around each other and be happy (not being so was likely the source of the semi-canon clashes Daemon and Da3ron had), and no doubt Daemon would be a faithful protector. The illegitimate children of nobles have guarded Targaryen royalty before, with Jonquil Darke being Queen Alysanne’s sworn shield. The same idea of the Martells keeping Daemon loyal still applies, although I’d watch out for any Yronwoods asking about his betrothal status. 

If the Daemon/Rohanne marriage must go on: 

While Daemon is still young and newly-married, I’d send him and his wife on a diplomatic mission to Tyrosh (it worked for getting Aegon IV out of the way) where he can hone his politicking skills away from any rebels, or fight for the Archon in the Disputed Lands. If he makes friends with the Tyroshi and seems to have integrated into their culture as Orryn Baratheon did, he can stay there with his family. 

If he expresses vocal discontent after 4-5 years—considering Da3ron in the OTL named Brynden to the Small Council when he was around 20–I’m calling him back to Westeros and giving him some court position depending on how well he performed his duties. If he didn’t do so well, he can take Quentyn Ball’s old job as master-of-arms where I can watch him at all times. If he rose to the occasion (given Daemon’s penchant for making friends I’m sure he would be a fine diplomat), he gets either a position on the Small Council—perhaps Master of Ships as he’s been in the naval power Tyrosh for some years?—he becomes leader of the City Watch—he was raised in an urban environment, his mother had connections with the smallfolk, he’s an amazing fighter and decent leader, if Prince Daemon is any indication it’s a position for somewhat wayward family members—or he substitutes as a Warden if the Stark, Arryn, or Lannister heirs are too young to lead armies (not Tyrell given the Reach’s general support for Daemon in the OTL, although Leo Longthorn was obviously of age so there’s no need for a substitute Warden), which is a prestigious but largely ceremonial position in Da3ron’s time of uneasy peace. If I’m super-desperate to give him something to do that won’t cause much trouble, I’ll revive the position of Warden of the King’s Mint, since I know from OTL that he minted his own gold coinage and so displays some interest. I’m sure that his Aunt Elaena would be delighted to work with him as she’s de-facto Master of Coin.

If for some reason I don’t want Daemon at court but don’t want him in Tyrosh, it’s going to cost me dearly to give him and Rohanne suitable lodgings in the Crownlands: but I must be improbably loaded despite my father’s wastefulness if I’m building Summerhall and completing the Sept of Baelor, so I can pay! None of that “give Daemon and Rohanne a piece of paper saying they can build a Keep in the Crownlands” that we see in canon; Rohanne is a bride worthy of a legitimate Targaryen prince and some lazy document with no funds or castle attached to it is just insulting her family. Either give them an abandoned and renovated Keep (there could be some after the Dance/Da3ron’s War), or construct a new one like with Summerhall. Illegitimate sons of kings in England and France were either Dukes or Earls, so that Keep is going to be a lordly seat (people call Brynden “Lord Rivers”, they can do it for Daemon even if it’s just a ceremonial title). 

But at least one Daemon’s children are getting sent to court once they’re old enough, as cupbearers or pages or eventually squires for boys. I’d consider betrothing Calla to Matarys for more permanent loyalty since he’s not expected to inherit and they’re roughly the same age, which would certainly appease Rohanne’s family some.

If I want to keep the Blackfyre family like they are in canon—in the ephemeral keep they built themselves in the Crownlands, with no royal positions or betrothals—and not change any of the other character motivations like Aegor Rivers’ or Quentyn Ball’s (since it’s not stipulated in the question), it’s going to be difficult to prevent a war with Daemon at the helm. We know so little about the circumstances of Daemon’s crowning and arrest on potentially trumped-up charges that it’s hard to tell who started what. But if I had to do anything, it’s:

Stop trusting Bl00draven so much. Start questioning his motivations and methods. How does he know Daemon crowned himself? From whom? Did he torture that person? I seem to know that torture isn’t reliable since I ended the office of Lord Confessor! What does he have to gain from Daemon being arrested? What does Daemon have to gain from being crowned? What do I think will happen to his family if he is arrested successfully (there’s a chance Bl00draven will have them killed and then torture the confessions out of a fall guy)? If I think Bl00draven is a danger to Daemon’s family, doesn’t that give Daemon the “rebel or have my children die” non-choice if I order his arrest? What the hell is going on? I don’t want rumors; I need proof!

For much needed proof, I’d use Princess Elaena’s connection with both of us to find out what’s happening. Daemon would never hurt a lady, especially not close kin. Have her meet him or a nonviolent representative (Rohanne?) and see if he’s crowned himself. Have an escort (all traveling great ladies seem to have them) wait for her in a location a few hours away with orders to sound the alarm if she doesn’t return by the next day. If he hasn’t crowned himself, she’ll report back to Daeron that the rumors were false, and make it look like a friendly family visit. If he was thinking about it, she could talk him off the ledge as his aunt. If he did crown himself, she can report back and have Da3ron call the banners. If he crowned himself and somehow Elaena was prevented from delivering her report (Daemon wouldn’t hurt her since kidnapping a woman is the height of dishonor, but it’s clear some of his supporters had fewer scruples), take that as the act of war and have her escort call the banners. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s better than letting civil war break out on the say-so of the Shadiest Man in History.

But there is one difference between me and Da3ron that makes all of these alternate scenarios impossible in canon: I actually like Daemon Blackfyre. I like his mother, the courageous Princess who gave up her chance to be queen to raise him in her home. I like how hard he worked to be the best knight ever when he was just a young boy. I like how, despite marrying an older foreign woman at age 14, he enjoyed one of the happiest and most fertile marriages in Westerosi history. I like how he gathered a great coalition of men and women who had every reason to hate each other behind him, including the neglected and traumatized Aegor Rivers (I even like his potential friendship with Brynden Rivers). I like how he demanded his opponent get medical attention after dueling him for over an hour. I like how his last act was running into a field of arrows trying to save his oldest son. I like Daemon Blackfyre and his family. I want him and Rohanne to grow old together, to have their sons and daughters mature into strong men and women without the fear of death hanging over their heads, to have a chance at happiness in the home Daemon knew or even where Rohanne lived. Da3ron II had so many opportunities to give Daemon and Rohanne long, peaceful lives...and he wasted them all on incoherent policies, irrational grudges, and hypocritical distrust. For that, he will always have my disappointment.