#so apologies (for the deception) if this is inaccurate

[thegaydepressedone]

They’re having fun

[a-lonely-dunedain]

75 free choice!!

#75 "hope"

ok here we go, followup to this one here wherein Celeair got electrocuted! (oops.) As an apology I humbly offer a Worried Margim, Celeair getting a hug, and things being mostly not-terrible for them <3 (besides the whole "why the f does the Dragon Clan have lightning Worms now???" issue, but that's a problem for another day)

(also warning ahead for probably medically inaccurate deceptions of what the aftermath of a lightning strike looks like I guess? whatever it was magic lightning anyway I can do what I want and say it just behaves differently from natural lightning. It’s my weird lightning Worm I make the rules.)

-------

Margim stands outside the healer’s hut beneath the roof’s overhang, which is just large enough to shield her from most of the rain. Not all of it, but that hardly matters, the storm broke when she was rushing Celeair back here and she hardly even noticed how thoroughly drenched she is, her thoughts far too occupied with whatever might be happening inside.

She desperately wanted to be in there at Celeair’s side, but more than that she did not want to risk getting in the way. As much as she hated to admit it, there wasn’t anything she could do to help. Her hands are violent things not meant for healing. She looks down and notices they are still stained deep red with the mingled blood of the raiders and that vile Worm which somehow put Celeair in this state. She killed them, and it wasn’t enough. She did the only thing she’s good for, and still failed to protect him. It is probably not possible for her to feel any more useless at the moment.

Gwen and Cianán, Lhan Tarren’s other two resident healers, said they had everything in hand, and she tries to take some comfort in that, but she could not help but notice they did not yet say that Celeair was going to be alright. It was too soon to know for certain, and she feels like the worry is eating her from the inside out.

She learns her head stiffly against the wall and stares very sharply at nothing in particular. She tries not to think about how she would feel if he dies. She tries not to think about losing the one who led her out of the darkness, losing her light, her Celeair. She tries very hard not to think about the possibility of never hearing his voice again, never holding him in her arms again, never getting the chance to marry him-

She is so occupied by all these things which she is not thinking about that she fails to notice another person standing next to her, that is until they clear their throat to get her attention, causing Margim to flinch.

“Relax Mar, it’s just me.” Elain assures with a smile, but her eyes are alight with worry.

“Oh. I did not see you there.” Margim mutters, looking away.

“I noticed, you seemed far too occupied with trying to burn a hole in the sky with your gaze... Are you alright?”

Margim does not answer. The sky rumbles again.

“...Is Celeair alright?”

“I do not know.” she says quietly, her voice betraying some helplessness she would have rather remained hidden.

“What happened to him? Er, if it’s even alright to ask,” Elain hastily adds, rubbing the back of her neck. She didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t help but be concerned by all the commotion earlier when Margim returned with an unconscious Celeair and scarcely said a word to anyone before rushing into the healer’s hut. Strangely, no one had to fetch Gwen, as she was already there seemingly expecting them. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it-”

“Would that I knew what befell him! Truthfully I am nearly as much in the dark as you are.” She thinks to stop there, but Elain is still looking at her. Margim gives a resigned sigh. Really, by now she should know better than to give Elain vague answers, it only makes her more curious.

“He had been attacked by a Worm of a breed I have never seen before. Well I say attacked, for he was unresponsive when I got to him, but he bore no visible injuries, not so much as a scratch... though he seemed to be in a great deal of pain nonetheless.” She almost winces at the memory “As I carried him back here I noticed strange red marks beginning to appear all along his arms, blistering in places as if they were burns, but they had a distinct branching pattern unlike any burn I have ever seen. They reminded me of the branches of trees, or frost forming over water.”

“Could it be some sort of poison then?”

Margim shakes her head, “Possibly, but I know not how. Cianán seemed to recognize what it was, but his reaction... did not fill me with confidence.” To his credit, Cianán mastered his shock quickly after he saw the marks on Celeair, but it was there nonetheless, and when a seasoned healer reacts in such a way it is never a good sign. “Regardless, there is nothing more I can do...”

“Do not be so hard on yourself,” Elain puts a comforting hand on her shoulder, “you’ve already done a great deal just by getting him back here and to the people who best know how to help him.”

“I did everything I could, and yet it might not be enough,” she remarks bitterly.

“But it just as easily could be enough. It is too early to lose hope.”

Margim is silent for a long moment “...I can only hope that you’re right.”

The rain seems to be coming down a little harder, the roof’s small overhang now does little to shield them from it.

“I appreciate the company Elain, truly, but you do not have to stay out here.”

Elain scoffs “And leave you to sulk in the rain all on your lonesome? What sort of friend would I be if I let that happen?”

“One who will not catch her death of cold.” She says plainly. Elain laughs, but stays put at Margim’s side. And so the two of them sulk there in silence for a while getting half-drenched by the rain.

Some have said that it was strange for the two of them to have befriended one another. Elain’s boisterousness and natural curiosity should have found little in common with the grim and quiet Margim, and yet the two are piratically inseparable. Elain found her intriguing, and Margim found that she is drawn to people who are very much unlike her. So despite the fact that she would rather Elain be dry at home, Margim finds herself glad for the company; it at least makes it a little harder to think about how worried she is.

It is a while still before Gwen, a young woman with stark white hair and large pale eyes, pokes her head out of the door, “Margim-” she starts,

“Did something happen? Is Celeair alright?”

“It is good news, don’t worry.” She assures is her usual small voice, it is a little hard to hear her over the rain, “we’re now certain he will recover. He has not woken up just yet, but likely will soon, you should come inside.”

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

There is a sudden crack of thunder and Celeair awakes with a start, sitting up despite his body screaming in protest, chest tight and breathing in shallow rapid heaves. Where is the great black Worm? His eyes dart around the room frantically for it, expecting it to crawl out from any shadow. He heard it, must be here. He finds only cots and healing supplies, a crackling firepit, and the sound of rain pattering outside. His head is spinning too much to recall how he got here, all he knows is that he was about to be eaten by that terrible creature- But then a strong arm wraps around his shoulders, steadying him.

“Easy, you’re alright,” Margim’s voice washes over him like cold water, suddenly bringing him back to his senses. That’s right, she came for him in time. He collapses into her arms out of equal parts exhaustion and relief, his face buried in her soft fur mantle. It’s still damp from the rain, but he’s hardly inclined to care. If she is here then the Worm must be dead, and the raiders too. He’s safe.

“By the stars am I glad to see you...” he mumbles into her shoulder.

Margim says nothing, just quietly holding him for a little bit before gently lowering him back onto the cot. Her arm still remains behind him supporting his head, and her other hand gently laid over his chest as to still keep him in a half-embrace while she sits beside him.

“It is good to see you awake,” he hears Gwen say from somewhere nearby “how are you feeling?”

He takes a deep breath and says weakly "Everything hurts," quite an understatement "but I’m alive." As a healer it always feels strange to be on the other side of this exchange.

“You gave us quite a fright, my friend...”

“Well, it was not for nothing-” Celeair slowly props himself up to better see. He winces as his arms greatly protest the effort, stinging with a hundred needles at every movement, but he persists nonetheless. “I think my satchel is over there, could you open it for me?” Gwen does so, and from it retrieves a bundle of pungent green leaves with white tips.

“Cloudwort!” she exclaims “We feared it was too early in the season for it, but you actually managed to find some!”

Celeair manages a half-chuckle, a triumphant look on his face “And it only almost cost me my life! I do hope it’s enough...”

“I think it will be,” she assures “we only need a small amount for the antidote. I must bring this to Cianán right away.”

“Would that I could help you administer it...”

“You’ve done more than enough already by finding this, just rest for now.” she looks at Margim “Do make sure he actually stays down, would you?” Margim nods. Celeair suspects that she will not let him out of her sight for the foreseeable future, and finds he is not at all bothered by the prospect.

As Gwen leaves Celeair lets his head flop back down, his strength utterly spent.

Every inch of his body aches as though he ran across the entirety of Dunland. Twice. It is a wonder he is still alive, he thinks, but decides it might be best not to say such out loud, as Margim is clearly worried enough as it is. She does not show it openly, but he’s developed an eye for such things.

For one thing, she hasn’t said more than three words this entire time, which is quiet even for her. And despite the fact that she is normally very reserved with physical affection, she has been unable to take her arms off of him, so those are some good indicators.

With great effort he moves his hand to hers where it lays on his chest, gently entwining their fingers. It hurts greatly to put any pressure on his hands right now, but this, he decides, is more important.

“I killed the Worm that attacked you,” Margim says after some time, “but I... still do not understand exactly what it did to you.”

Celeair simply looks at the ceiling, truthfully he’s unsure of exactly what happened himself, and even less sure of how to describe it “I think...” he eventually says “I was struck by lightning. I know not how, but that Worm was imbued with the power of storms, and shot lightning from its mouth. No doubt some new sorcery devised by the Wizard...”

“I thought I heard thunder as I fought off the raiders, but I assumed it was from the encroaching storm...” She says in quiet amazement, “If Saruman has granted such power to the Driag-Lûth then things are about to become much more dire for us.”

“You slew this one, and I’ve no doubt you can slay the rest.” he manages a smile “That is, assuming there are any more of them to begin with, it might have been the only one of its kind.” He tries to remain optimistic, but he knows it’s a slim chance. If that was truly the only such Worm in existence, it would be in the keeping their leader or someone else of high standing in the clan, not a small raiding party harassing the remote reaches of Trum Dreng.

Despite this, Celeair prays that there are no more of these creatures, because if there are, he is going to have to master the complex art of lightning channeling very quickly. He looks down at the fractal burns along his arms, a clear mark that he has much still to learn, and no one to teach him.

“I hope so...” Margim mutters, understanding just as well as he does how unlikely it is “but we cannot assume, lest it be our undoing. If we are lucky, perhaps Gwen will be able to warn us about it...” But the Stag-Clan has never been particularly lucky, in fact one could easily argue that they have been the unluckiest clan in all of Dunland. Yet, they also have a history of finding help unlooked for in their darkest hours, bringing them back from the edge of destruction numerous times in the past, so despite being the weakest and smallest of the clans they persist still. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say they are simultaneously the unluckiest and the luckiest clan in Dunland. It has been hard, but they are still here, which is more than could be said of some others.

Celeair breathes a humorless laugh “It would be funny, were it not so unfortunate. I risk life and limb to retrieve an antidote for the Dragon-Clan’s poison, only to find this new horror in the process...” He cannot help but wonder how likely it is that, if and when he becomes proficient in lightning channeling, the moment he does so the forces of Isengard will suddenly unveil another, more terrible weapon to turn upon the people of Trum Dreng. ‘One thing drives out another’, as someone Celeair does not know famously said at some point.

"Whatever happens next, we will endure." Margim says quietly

"Of course we will," he smiles softly "we always do."

He decides tomorrow's worries can wait until tomorrow. For now, he must simply be grateful that he is alive and Margim is here at his side, for so long as that remains true he cannot lose hope. He turns his head to rest against Margim's arm and finally closes his eyes, content and secure. Sleep takes him soon after.

[balkantroll]

< could : requezt a read:ng ? >

< pazt prezent and future ? >

< that zeemz to be what everyone elze :z do:ng >

< thank you e:ther way >

< @wriggler-naming-suggestions >

I apologize, i had to do a reshuffled reading for you. I'm not sure if i did it right the first time, but i just felt it was incorrect (if youre curious, the cards were four of swords reversed, five of pentacles and the wheel of fortune). Now to the actual reading.

 Past-what attitudes, beliefs, or feelings in past events have shaped your current situation?

TEN OF WANDS, REVERSED- The Ten of Wands is a card that represents responsibilities and burden. Reversed, it means you are probably shouldering too much to bare. It indicates you must let go of all that is not adding value to your life to lighten the load and feel free, otherwise you will risk a collapse.

Present- what forces are at work now? What events are influencing your situation?

PAGE OF SWORDS, REVERSED - This card usually indicates curiosity, communication, mental agility etc. When reversed however, all of the negative characteristics come out. The sword used to represent the Pages' gift of language can be used for hurt and deception. You may be hurting the people around you with your words or actions and have no idea. On the other hand, this page may be someone of empty words or promises - who though loves talking, does not really talk about much of substance. Take care to show strength and action behind your words, for you may be damaging your reputation.

Future-what can happen? What are your unconscious expectations?

FOUR OF WANDS- A good card, finally. This card represents Community, a sense of belonging, a home. It is a celebration of harmony and good relationships. A time of peace and rest after a lot of hard work. The symbolism in this card indicates that it is a perfect time to get together with your friends or quadrantmates. This card could also indicate you are reaching a particularly important milestone.

There it is. Apologies if it is inaccurate, friend. I have not been feeling too good lately, so I'm not sure if that has any effects on my readings.

[emilyyyy11]

Anxiety is more than just worrying.

Anxiety is the restless nights of sleep, as you toss and turn. It’s your brain never being able to shut off. It’s the thoughts you over-think before bedtime and all of your worst fears become a reality in dreams and nightmares.

It’s waking up tired even though your day just started.

Anxiety is learning how to function with sleep deprivation because it took you until 2 am to shut your eyes.

It’s every text you wonder ‘how do I word this properly?’ It’s a double or triple text in case you messed up. Anxiety is answering texts embarrassingly fast.

Anxiety is the time you spend waiting for an answer as a scenario plays out in your mind of what they could be thinking or are they mad?

Anxiety is an unanswered text that kills you inside even though you tell yourself, ‘maybe they’re busy or will answer later.’ Anxiety is that critical voice that says ‘maybe they’re deliberately ignoring you.’ It’s believing every negative scenario you can come up with.

Anxiety is waiting. It always feels like you’re waiting. It’s the inaccurate conclusions drawn as your mind takes off and you have no choice but to follow it’s destructive lead.

Anxiety is apologizing for things that don’t even require the words, ‘I’m sorry.’

Anxiety is self-doubt and a lack of confidence both in you, yourself and those around you. Anxiety is being hyper aware of everyone and everything. So much so, you can tell if there’s a shift in someone merely by their tone or word choice.

Anxiety is ruining relationships before they even begin. It tells you, ‘you’re wrong, they don’t like you, they’re going to leave.’ Then you jump to conclusions.

Anxiety is a constant state of worrying and panicking and being on the edge. It’s irrational fears. It’s thinking too much, it’s caring too much. Because the root of people with anxiety is caring.

It’s sweaty palms and a racing heart. But on the outside, no one can see it. You appear calm and at ease and smiling but underneath is anything but that. Anxiety is the art of deception for people who don’t know you. And for the people who do, it’s a constant stream of phrases like, ‘don’t worry’ or ‘you’re overthinking this’ or ‘relax.’ It’s friends listening to these conclusions you’ve drawn and not really understanding how you got there. But they’re there trying to support you, as things go from bad to worse in your mind.

Anxiety is wanting to fix something that isn’t even a problem.

It’s the stream of questions that make you doubt yourself.

Did I lock the door before I left?’

Did I turn off the stove?

Is the straightener still on?

It’s turning back around just to double check.

Anxiety is the uneasiness at a party because you think all eyes are on you and no one wants you there. Anxiety is that extra shot you take and it seems like you’re finally relaxing. Until you wake up the next day hungover, full of regret and wondering what you said to whom and do you owe them an apology?

Anxiety is the overcompensating and trying too hard to please people.

Anxiety is being everywhere on time because the thought of being late would put you over the edge.

Anxiety is the fear of failure and striving for perfection. Then beating yourself up when you fall short. It’s always needing a schedule or a plan.

Anxiety is that voice inside your head that’s saying ‘you’ll fail.’

It’s trying to exceed people’s expectations even if you’re killing yourself to do so. Anxiety is taking on more than you can handle just so you are distracted and not overthinking something.

Anxiety is procrastination because you’re paralyzed with fear of failing so you hold it off.

It’s the triggers that set you off.

It’s breaking down in private and crying when you’re overwhelmed but no one will ever see that side of you. Anxiety is picking up and trying again because the only thing worse than overcoming other people is overcoming you and your own demons.

It’s beating that critical voice that says, ‘you really fucked up.’ or ‘you should feel awful right now.’

Anxiety is the want and the need to control things because it feels like this thing in your life is outside of your control and you have to learn to live with it.

But more than anything anxiety is caring. It’s never wanting to hurt someone’s feelings. It’s never wanting to do something wrong. More than anything, it’s the want and need to simply be accepted and liked. So you try too hard sometimes.

And when you come across friends who begin to understand, they help you through it.

Then you realize this might be a battle you face every day but it’s one you won’t have to face alone.

Photo: Melrose Boyer & Rupert Lamontagne as the photographer !

[northlight14]

@popatochsp

Ahhh ok🥹

Apologies in advance for the infodump😅😂

So I’m not gonna get into all the OC’s I made for this au because we’d genuinely be here all day. But the main bitches for this au and a bit about them (please keep in mind that I have only finished the first two danganronpa games and I’ve only just gotten to the death in chapter 4 for v3. And I haven’t consumed any other danganronpa content. All that to say, some shit might change or be inaccurate to canon lore. If that’s the case…shh this is already a canon divergence, let me have my fun /lh

Anyway, main characters:

Emiko Naegi, she/her, ultimate entrepreneur. She’s the daughter of Byakuya and Makoto. Emiko is a very confident individual who inherited Byakuya’s business sense. Shes genuinely a very nice person though and likes just having fun, though she can be very blunt and a little spoiled which means she occasionally comes off as rude to people who don’t know her well

Junichi Gokuhara, he/him, ultimate card player. He’s the son of Celeste and Gonta (rare pairs my beloved). Junichi is Emiko’s boyfriend and a very polite man, having learned from his parents to be a proper gentleman (the dynamic with Emiko is very much “I can do it myself” X “I know but let me”). He was a sickly kid so couldn’t be in school a lot and as such, Celeste taught him how to play various card games which Junichi quickly had a knack for, even if he can never beat his mum lol. He’s someone who just wants to enjoy the game though and doesn’t take money during games as he feels money would ruin it. He isn’t perfect though, as he is extremely competitive. It’s a running joke for Emiko that Junichi is a complete sweetheart but when it comes to playing games, he becomes low key evil lmao (he’s also the only straight character I have in this au lmao. Idk man everyone else was too fruity. Junichi’s a 10/10 ally tho. He loves his trans/bi girlfriend)

Seiko Saihara (I didn’t know there was a canon danganronpa character named Seiko when I named him and now I’m too attached to the name lol), he/him, ultimate lie detector/deception expert. Son of Shuichi and Kokichi. Seiko is a childhood friend of Emiko’s, having met her in middle school and they’ve been like brother and sister since. Seiko is honesty just a mischievous lil shit with a love for gossip. He’s got a good heart though and is insanely loyal. Most right him off as an idiot but it’s far from true, Seiko actually being very intelligent and having learned to read body language in order to tell when people are lying, a skill that comes in handy when you have Kokichi as a parent. He acknowledges that his skills aren’t fool proof (Emiko’s autistic ass quickly teaching him that certain body language isn’t always an indication of deception) but the more he practices the better he gets. Seiko also has a pretty dirty sense of humour (without being a perv) and is a bisexual mess

Kimika Yumeno, she/her, ultimate con artist. Daughter of Tenko and Himiko. Kimika takes on the role of the antagonist in my generational despair au. She seems nice at first but ultimately she’s a very cunning person. She honestly just likes being able to control situations and the people around her and an inability to do so can cause a spiral. She naturally has good in her like the rest of the danganronpa antagonists but her cons are a way for her to have fun, even at the expense of others

—

The characters in the original post:

Kiyono Hinata is a reserve course student and as I stated previously, the child of Hajime and Nagito. They’re also the childhood friend of Emiko and Seiko, the 3 all having met in middle school and now just behaving like siblings. Kiyono unfortunately inherited their dads depression though and for the most part Kiyono can just seem bored or dead inside. They also got sick of Nagito always talking to them about “hope” and now it’s gotten to the point they just hate that word and the idea of it, thinking it’s stupid and naive because bad things are going to happen regardless of if you’re hopeful or not etc. They’re a true introvert, not really speaking to anyone outside of their friend group (Emiko, Seiko, and Junichi) and when they’re not at school or with friends, they’re probably in their room watching horror movies on their laptop. They’re insanely loyal, however, and would do anything for their friends and family

Daiya Ishimaru (yes he was named after Mondo’s brother), fellow reserve course student and son of Ishimondo, is a non identical twin. His twin sister is named Katana and she’s the ultimate bodyguard and a top student. On the flip side, Daiya struggles in school and doesn’t have an ultimate. Being the only non ultimate in his family means Daiya is pretty fucking insecure and he and his sister have a lot of “friendly competitions” that mean a bit more to Daiya than they do Katana. Unlike Kiyono who’s more obviously depressed, Daiya hides it more and generally seems like a happy guy. He’s a big gamer nerd and also loves manga and such. He’s a little socially awkward though despite being an extrovert (tis the autism)

Kiyono X Daiya is very much a black cat X golden retriever couple but make them both depressed. They’re able to understand each other in that way and help each other out. Additionally, Daiya is an insomniac while Kiyono sleeps way too much. They just got that balance lol. And to top it off, in the generational despair au, Kiyono and Daiya aren’t in the actual killing game because they’re reserve course meaning the two of them are on the outside going though the same shit and working together to end the killing game and save their friends and family. And I mean, what’s more romantic than surviving the end of the world together?

—

I am hopefully gonna be writing my generational despair au. I’m still in the very rough draft stages tho and just chipping away at it as a mini project. It’s a lot of fun tho and I may share more stuff on it at some point🤷

Danganronpa next gen OC’s✨

I have a next gen au for danganronpa. Essentially if the killing game never happened and the danganronpa cast went on to get married and have kids and shit. Also have a separate au as part of that that I’m currently working on which is my “generational despair” au aka if these next gen OC’s were put in the killing game instead

Anyway, introducing Daiya Ishimaru (he/him), son of Taka and Mondo. And Kiyono Hinata (they/them), child of Nagito and Hajime. These two are both in the reserve course and are my favourite ship in this au out of my OC’s

Drawing template below (not mine!!)

[dc418writes]

•|Gratuity(4)|•

✨Pairing✨: mob!Ari LevinsonxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: It’s time for Ari to come clean

⚠️: I’d say a good amount of angst in this one, allusions to violence, violence (man-man), mention of blood, brief mention of death, fluffy moments mentioned throughout as usual, attempted assault, harassment, a couple bad language words, reader not being the best communicator, Ari because that man is always a warning

A/N🎙: all translations provided by google, so I apologize if they’re inaccurate (hopefully they’re right though)

“Well look who it is finally home from her date,” Tyla smirks hearing you enter the studio apartment as she poured a cup of coffee. You’d think she was a barista with her own shop the way she expertly mixed the espresso shot, creamer, and caramel to create her usual order.

“Could care less about that clock strike at midnight huh Cinderella?”

Her grin quickly falls turning to see your distressed eyes staring off into space while your thumb nervously tapped against the wooden counter. The last time she saw you this way was freshman year. You were just cordial roommates at the time, but at your sobs from the bathroom floor—paranoid that even though you used a condom, were on birth control, and your fling pulled out, you were somehow pregnant—she was immediately by your side telling you how it would be okay. From then on, you both naturally stuck together looking out for the other.

“What happened?,” she asks hurriedly moving to wrap her arms around you in a much needed hug. “You said you were having fun when you checked in.”

“I was, but-,”

“Did he get rough with you?! I swear to God and all the apostles if he-!”

“No, no he’d never.” At least you hoped. You weren’t quite sure what you could definitively say about Ari anymore.

“Then what’s wrong?,” she asks gently rubbing your back. Leaning against the small counter, you can’t fight the tears desperately wanting to fall or the lump in your throat trying to save you the embarrassment and shame. Not that you should feel that way around Tyla, you knew she’d never judge you.

But all her support couldn’t silence the voice in your own head.

“I….I think he’s married,” you finally reveal causing her mouth to slightly gape.

“Are you serious?! What happened? How’d you find out?”

“I overheard him talking on the phone and he was apologizing for not being able to call the night before, then he asked how his princess was and telling who I assume was his wife that he’d be there for her recital. That he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Hm, anything else?”

“They just said I love you, then hung up.”

“And did you call him out on it?”

“No. I was honestly trying to get out after that, but he came back in and I was kinda stuck.” Sighing, you quickly wipe the stray tears rolling down your cheeks reliving the moment your heart shattered. “I feel so stupid! A-And then the fact that I slept with him-,”

“Hey you’re not stupid, okay?,” she states rubbing up and down your upper arms with an apologetic smile. “Some people are just…very deceptive and only care about themselves and their own happiness even if it’s at the cost of others. And please do not look at yourself as a bad person because you’re not. You were just the unfortunate pawn in someone’s twisted game, and believe me when I say they’ll be the one to pay for it.”

Thank God you gave her a key to your apartment. Coming back to silence where your thoughts and shame would just eat away at you, it might’ve been days before you went back out.

“Thanks Ty. And that wasn’t some foreshadow of how you’re gonna hunt this man down was it?”

“…For the sake of you not being an accessory so I can potentially have some help for bail, I cannot confirm or deny that,” you both laugh, holding each other tight in a warm embrace.

“Now you go ahead and shower, get comfortable so we can spend all day watching movies and eating every snack we can find.”

“That sounds great, but I can’t. You know I’m typically at the center for most of the day on Saturday’s.”

“You still wanna go today? Maybe it’d be best to call out.”

Taking a breath, you nod your head mustering the strength to give her a small smile. “Yea I’ll be fine. Plus it’ll be a good distraction.”

“Alright, if you’re sure, then we’ll have our movie marathon tonight when you get back.”

The trek to your bathroom is short but heavy feeling that thudding crack in your heart once again. As soon as the click of the door locking fills the quiet room, your silent tears move on their own down to the old graphic tee Ari was “nice” enough to let you wear rather than putting on your gown again. You began to wonder how many other women might’ve worn this same shirt walking around his impressive penthouse.

Or worse, if this was a favorite of his wife’s to wear thinking she was the only one lucky enough to have that privilege.

The longer you pondered, the sicker you felt as nausea climbed your throat and your stomach churned ultimately making it hard to stand in the sauna like shower.

-

It’s like he was just carrying a jacket over his shoulder how effortlessly Leo hoists the limp body from the floor, placing it’s arm over his boulder like shoulders. His other hand gripping it’s side as he stabilizes the body for an easier time walking.

“Where do you want him?”

“He can sleep it off in the back alley. Have cameras on him in case he gets any ideas when he wakes up,” Ari answers wiping the blood from his hands. With a curt nod, Leo leaves out the back double doors leading to the hidden hallways of the casino few had access to.

“Mr. Levinson, a Mr. Shiloh is here for you,” his secretary buzzes from the sleek black phone on his desk.

“Send him in.” Ari rolls his eyes hearing his best friend attempt, yet again, to flirt with the uninterested woman as he saunters into the modern office. “If it hasn’t happened by now, it never will Shi.”

His tattooed hand covers his heart feigning hurt settling into one of the cloth chairs sat in front of the dark, hardwood desk gleaming from the reflecting light. “And what has you brooding so today? Well, more so than usual.”

“I don’t brood,” Ari glares pouring himself and his guest a small glass of whiskey before settling into his own seat.

“Mhm sure. So, I take it the date didn’t go well?”

“Not that’s it’s any of your business, but no it was actually perfect. Saw the show, ate dinner. Went back to my place and talked some more. To me at least, everything seemed good.”

“Seemed?,” Shiloh asks lifting the glass to his full lips. There’s a soft hiss from Ari as the brown liquid runs down his throat leaving behind a dull burn. He takes a hand through the brunette hairs on his head feeling the frustration and confusion from earlier this morning return at the slight mention of you.

“This morning she was���off. Still nice, but kinda rushing to leave. I offered to drive her back home, but she insisted on an Uber instead saying how she didn’t wanna be a bother.”

“Hm..well we know she didn’t rob you since you still have your chain and watch. Then again, you check your wallet?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Ari states with an icy glare. Offended on your behalf someone would dare accuse you of anything bad.

“I know, I know,” Shiloh holds up his hands amused at his friend’s lovestruck behavior this early on. “She’s a good girl. And how she voluntarily got mixed up with you I’ll never know.”

This earns him a much less threatening glare as Ari takes another drink from his glass.

“Does she know? About your uh, career that is?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Sighing, he rests his head against the leather headrest peering at the ceiling. Truthfully, he couldn’t be sure. Who knows who you knew that might’ve known him through business, or even stories that passed from mouth to mouth eventually making their way to you?

“…I don’t know,” he finally answers.

“Maybe that’s it then? Or,” he shrugs, “she just needs some space. Why? Who knows, I’m sure it’s the more favorable reason for you though.”

Both taking a sip from their respective glass, Ari silently prayed you just needed space. Maybe you had regrets on being intimate so fast? Regrets about him even.

“Mr. Levinson? Your two o’clock is here. They’re currently waiting in the conference room,” his secretary calls bringing his thoughts back to business.

“Thank you, we’re coming.”

“I guess we’ll continue this later,” Shiloh sighs standing up to fix his tie.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Cmon I’m your friend man, you don’t have to be afraid to open up. It’s okay pumpkin,” he smiles patting a stiff Ari on the shoulder.

“You have two seconds to stop touching me.”

-

“Ugh, this is dumb!,” the boy next to you huffs tossing his pencil down on the workbook in front of him while the preschooler sitting to the right of you gasps immediately halting any further drawing.

“Das a bad word!”

“Is not. And why I gotta learn this anyway? I’m gonna be the biggest music producer in the world, I don’t need college.”

“Alright then Mario, so I take it you’ll handle all of your money?,” you ask rejoining little Ella and helping her finish her jellyfish coloring page.

“Psh no, I’m gonna be rich! I’ll just hire somebody to do that.”

“Mhm, and who’s gonna check behind them? To make sure they’re doing their job and getting their correct cut?,” you ask raising your brow.

“Um…m-my assistant?”

“And who’s gonna check them?”

“His mommy,” Ella grins making him glare at the pigtailed little girl and you nearly laugh as well.

“I get what you’re trying to say Ms. Y/N, okay? I’ll do my work just no more questions my brain hurts enough,” he sighs, reluctantly back to concentrating on his math assignment.

Your phone vibrating on the table cuts through the chatter of kids playing around you, but you refuse to look already having a clue of who it was. You’re honestly surprised he didn’t try to reach out to you sooner.

“Who’s Airy?,” Ella asks holding your phone up to your face.

“No one.”

“Is he your boyfwend?”

“He wishes,” Mario mumbles under his breath causing your mouth to slightly gape.

“Come again?”

“Um I…I said goldfishes! They’re handing out goldfish and juice and I’m gonna go get some,” he quickly answers before rushing out of his seat. His sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor until he leaves the room.

“That boy,” Ella sighs with the shake of her head as if she was a disapproving parent.

“And what do you know about boyfriends missy?”

“My fwend Katelyn has one. They always nex to other,” she answers with a nod of her head. “You sit nex to Airy?”

“Listen, why don’t you take a break from coloring and go get some goldfish okay?”

Quickly hopping from her seat with a bright smile, she starts to run off before stopping in place and turning back towards you placing her small hands on your arm. “I get you some too.”

“Thank you, but remember to walk Ella!,” you shout behind her, but unsurprisingly she continues her hurried pace.

Now alone, you open your phone in search of Ari’s text feeling that lump form in your throat again. You knew you needed to talk to him about what you heard and why you were acting so distant, but you were also hesitant to reach out. Afraid he’d only manipulate and lie to you more.

Hey angel, hope you made it home alright. Worried about the way you left (sent 2:45 pm)

Fingers drumming against the oval desk, his knee anxiously bounces under the piece of dark wood furniture unknowingly to those around him. His expression was still calm, listening with steely eyes to some bar owner swearing he had too good a proposition for the family to decline. But his mind raged with the idea that you found out about his lifestyle and currently was trying to get as far away as you could.

And although it would hurt, he wouldn’t blame you.

I did…sorry had things to do and forgot to text (sent 3:00 pm)

And worried how? (sent 3:00 pm)

Was that a sign of guilt? Maybe he would confess after all.

You just seemed different compared to last night. If I did something to scare you off maybe, I swear I didn’t mean to. I’d never try to (sent 3:02 pm)

It was too late.

You sit back in your seat, eyes misting but refusing to let anymore of your tears fall. At least not now.

This was really nothing but a game to him. He saw a struggling, naive waitress and said all the right things until she was dumb enough to take his bait.

How could you not see the red flags and warnings? Then again, maybe you were just that blind.

We could talk about it over dinner? Breakfast? Whichever you want (sent 3:05 pm)

I’d love to see you again (sent 3:06 pm)

-

“So, whataya thinking nipote (nephew)? This deal that irresistible?,” his uncle asks rolling up his sleeves before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Ari just continues to stare out the wall of glass peering out to the rest of the city and it’s gloomy sky. Legs spread as he gently twists back and forth in the leather armchair and occasionally scratches his beard with the hand propped under his chin.

“Ari,” he calls once watching his nephew still in his trance like state. “Cucciolo (puppy).”

“Si zio (Yes uncle),” Ari finally answers rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wake up and rejoin reality.

“Dove sei (Where are you), ah? We got business to take care of.”

“I’m here,” he answers sitting up a bit straighter. “Taking over that bar sounds nice, but I’m not-,”

“It’s her…isn’t it?”

“Her who?” His uncle deeply chuckles leaning back in his chair with hands clasped across his abdomen.

“Chi (Who)…the girl that’s running a marathon in your mind and taking your heart for a spin too. You brought her to the party no?” Ari only looks down at his fingers tapping against the glossy wood.

“Dark, curly hair. Brown eyes. Bellissima (gorgeous). If only I were younger-,”

“Abbastanza (enough), yea?,” Ari states. That possessive look in his eyes pleasantly surprising his uncle as his smile widens.

“You’re wrapped around her finger as tight as can be! I expect to be meeting her soon then?”

“…I honestly don’t know zio.” It was tough for him to open up about things like this, but he knew he could always come to his uncle.

The man raised him as his own. Giving him his first ever advice on love when he was merely seven crushing on a girl in the grade above him.

“Above everything, always listen cucciolo. Be there for her. Spoiling is nice, but material things can’t compare to truly giving someone your heart and time. Capire (understand)?”

He wasn’t wrong then, and he’d never been steered wrong since.

“Things aren’t the best right now…and I dunno what to do,” he explains combing his hand through his hair. “I wanna make it right though.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“I tried. She isn’t talking to me.”

“Well, thinking back did you possibly do or say anything?”

“Not that I know of,” he answers with a shrug. “…I think she might know about my actual job. Maybe even the family too.”

Sighing, his uncle finishes the rest of his drink before refilling his glass and pouring a separate one for Ari. “If that’s the case….then I don’t know if there’s anything I can tell you to make it better. I warned you about what comes with this life.”

When he was still just a baby, Ari’s mother told her brother how she didn’t want him in the family business. He knew he couldn’t promise Ari would never be a part of this life though. At some point, his nephew would make his own decisions no matter what he told him. So anytime Ari would ask about his uncle’s dealings—when he became old enough to comprehend what was going on that is—he was honest. He didn’t shy away from telling what could happen if a deal went wrong, or what would take place at the “visit” he and his team were making to a client that owed him money. How he had to watch his back at all times and constantly worried about his family. He could only hope he wasn’t fascinated enough to follow in his footsteps.

“I know and don’t want her in any part of this..but also-,”

“You can’t ignore your feelings,” his uncle finishes with a slight nod of his head. “Well, if she’s that important to you, then you fight for her until one of you raises the white flag nipote.”

-

It’s going on two weeks since Ari heard anything from you. He tried texting once again the day after your initial talk, but it’s since remained unread.

Good morning…I get it, you need space. I’ll be here if you want to talk (sent 7:05 am)

He knew better than to stop by the restaurant, but that didn’t stop you from switching your hours to the night shift trying to further avoid him in the event he changed his mind. And so far it was working. Allowing you to slowly get his face, his smell, and his touch from your mind the further you buried yourself in work and the community center.

As always, it seemed as of late, nothing good could last forever though.

“Sorry we’re closed,” you call over your shoulder hearing the ding of the front door opening and closing. Not hearing a second ding or anything from the stranger prompts you to halt your sweeping, turning around to find a pistol aimed shakily at your forehead.

“G-Gimmie all the money,” he sniffs. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand before scratching the side of his grimy neck.

“I-It’s already gone. The manager-,”

“Bullshit! Give it now or I shoot!”

“I promise there’s nothing! M-My manager already counted it a-and took it to the bank I swear,” you quickly answer. Your voice unsteady with the tears falling down your cheeks. Mascara surely staining your skin black by now.

He frustratedly bounces using the edge of the gun to scratch his temple as he looks around in thought mumbling something to himself. You wish you could run, but your legs are planted fearful that even taking a step would have a bullet racing towards you.

“Fine,” he finally answers with a demented grin on his thin, cracked lips that makes your stomach churn. “I’m leavin’ with something though sweetheart.” His footsteps grow closer until you can smell the must and smoke from his baggy clothes as he presses against you only making your cries harder. Forcefully grabbing your chin, your pouted lips spur him to lick his own with a smirk.

“Aw…I would say don’t cry, but you just look so pretty when you do.”

“Please,” you manage to squeak feeling his nose press against your neck before inhaling your perfume deep as he could as if it was his first time experiencing any sort of smell.

A high pitched whistle followed by a click has the stranger frozen himself at the cold metal pressed to the back of his head. His sweating becoming more profuse by the second. “I’ll give you two minutes to let her go.”

On good terms or not, the familiar voice has your sobs quieting to soft hiccups now knowing you were safe.

He slowly backs away from you enough that Ari can grab your wrist pulling you behind him all the while still aiming his own handgun at the stranger’s head. From his height and muscular build he completely shields you as your chest presses against his back and his cologne wafts around you.

“You okay?,” he asks slightly turning his head towards you with eyes still trained on his target. You can only muster a nod of your head wrapping your arms around your middle.

“L-Listen alright? I-I just need a few bucks man that’s it. Cmon-,”

This only angers Ari more with how quick he’s twisting the slender man’s arm behind his back and smashing his face into the bar with a disgustingly loud crack. Crying out in pain, his gun falls to the ground between his feet making Ari smirk.

“Huh you know what? I’d say you’re the one who looks pretty when you cry,” he states pressing the gun uncomfortably into the man’s cheek.

“Let me go!”

“Come anywhere near here, my girl, hell, if I even see you in the street, you’re dead. Hear me?!”

“Y-Yea! Got it.”

“Mm..I don’t think you do. Maybe I should just-,”

“Ari,” you call out stopping him from further pulling the trigger. “Police.”

Only seeing red, he failed to hear the approaching sirens or see the flashing red and blue lights illuminating the inside of the restaurant.

“Gun down Levinson,” a middle aged officer announces entering in along with two other cops with their guns drawn. They immediately rush towards the stranger pulling Ari off so they can properly arrest him. “Druggie’s not worth the court date. Go check on your friend, we’ll take care of everything else.”

His expression softens watching you get questioned by a younger officer. How you looked so small and broken holding yourself; occasionally gliding your hand up and down your upper arm. Somewhat calmed down, he returns his gun to the waistband of his pants thanking the Sergeant before his legs carry him to meet you on the other side of the room.

“Hey, she okay?”

“Yep, maybe just some bruising on the cheeks later but physically she’s good,” the young officer softly smiles. “It is common for victims to experience PTSD like symptoms for a while after though, so I don’t think she needs to be alone tonight.”

He wishes he would’ve just pulled the trigger. Whoever that was shouldn’t be breathing let alone able to walk out this building after what he did to you, and how that would potentially affect you for the rest of your life.

“She told me her car is currently in the shop, so rather than run the risk we’re gonna have someone take her home and make sure she gets in okay.”

“That’s alright, I’ll take care of it.” Ari’s careful when approaching you. Flashing you a sympathetic smile before slowly kneeling beside you and reaching out to place his hand on top of yours. When you don’t flinch or pull your hand away, his entire chest warms that maybe things were back to how they were. “Hey angel, I’m gonna take you home okay?”

“But…I thought I have to wait for the manager and owner? To tell them what happened..”

“Well, the cops already made the incident report so you don’t have to. If you just wanna wait though, then we can. You tell me.”

“Oh, then…c-can I go home? Please?”

“Of course, let’s go beautiful.”

-

Somewhere between the cool air of the car’s AC hitting your face and staring out the passenger window at the passing lights and buildings you were reminded how you were supposed to be mad at the man currently driving you home. All those emotions from overhearing his conversation coming back to your calmed mind to tell you not to fall for his sweet words and charm.

“T-Thanks for bringing me home,”you state switching on the lights after finally making it inside your quiet apartment. This was Ari’s first time seeing what lied beyond your front door, so naturally he tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could.

Your little studio was cozy with bits of color here and there bringing a brightness that matched your personality. The few plants you had by the windows, either hanging or on their own stand, were blooming with life from their hanging leaves and bright green color. There was even a small reading nook in the corner with a large, yellow, smiley face beanbag sat in front of your shelf of books that immediately made him smile to himself. Everything he saw matched you so well and he found himself never wanting to leave.

“You know you don’t have to thank me,” he dismisses. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

Could his family say the same?

“I-I know.”

“Are you gonna be okay tonight? The officer mentioned-”

“I know, I was there. I’ll be fine.” Your newly short tone catches him off guard sending that ache from all those days without a word from you back to his heart. His disheartened mood might not have easily been read by his features, but the way he peered down to his keys in his hands leaning against your counter had a twinge of guilt creeping in your chest.

“Right…I uh, guess I’ll check on you tomorrow then.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” you state protectively crossing your arms in front of you.

“Angel-,”

“Stop calling me that!,” you snap making his forehead crease with concern at your fresh tears and raised voice. “You’ve lied to me this whole time.”

He knew this would come eventually. The selfish part of him hoped much later though, wanting to delay having to see the clear disappointment that would be in your eyes. Sighing, his arms flex under his light blue button up as he grips the edge of the counter behind him.

“And how could you do that to your family? They love you so much, and that’s how you repay them?!”

Now he was confused, slightly tilting his head in thought. Clearly he was missing a detail or two.

“Wha…what are you talking about?”

“I overheard you on the phone that morning after our date,” you explain beginning to pace back and forth. “I know about your wife and princess.”

The deep chuckle that bellows from his chest, making him lean forward and hair fall to his face, is one of relief that this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Clearly this was unknown to you, so his seemingly joyous outburst only makes you more frustrated and annoyed with the man in front of you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoff heading towards the door. His strong hand gently grips your elbow for a brief moment trying to coax you back before quickly dropping them to his sides. He could admit, he should’ve known better than to try to touch you right now.

“I know you’re more than likely not gonna believe a thing I say, but I promise you I’m not, nor have I ever been married. I…I do have a daughter though. Her name’s Ariane, but I call her Princess.”

Removing his phone from his pocket, there’s a few taps before you’re shown a smiling little girl on his screen. Long brown hair in a braided ponytail and ocean-like eyes, anyone could tell she was Ari’s. The only thing stopping the two from being complete twins was her button nose, which you assumed came from her mother.

“You heard me talking to her grandmother. She’s kept her since she was around one so I could try to grow my business and get to a place where I can keep her for good.” The next picture shows a curvy, older woman with long salt and pepper hairs styled in a messy bun on the top of her head. Smiling as she held her equally happy granddaughter on the slide, a small one forms on your lips as well at how adorable they both were.

“And her mother?,” you ask in a whisper peering up to his eyes.

“She uh…she passed giving birth,” he answers . His face falling as he recalls the nurse rushing him out the room ignoring his protests and questions as the monitors beeped and everyone frantically worked over her struggling body. He hadn’t even gotten to hold Ariane before she was taken away with little lungs calling out for the both of them. “There was a blood clot that travelled to her lungs. They couldn’t help her in time.”

He didn’t have to show you, but the last picture of baby Ariane standing on chubby legs in the grass beside her mother’s headstone as Ari sat close behind making sure she didn’t fall had your heart sinking further than you’ve ever felt.

“Loving daughter, sister, friend, and mother,” etched in the grey stone, a new lump forms in your throat along with a dryness realizing Ari was in fact telling the truth, and you’d made a terrible mistake.

Well, shit.

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[stellocchia]

I think its valid for c!Techno to feel betrayed by c!Tommy since he left him alone in front of a crowd of people.

But even so, I feel like simply labeling one as the "betrayer" removes a lot of important context, such as c!Techno not being upfront with c!Tommy and intentionally or unintentionally playing into c!Dream's manipulation (reinforcing the idea that c!Tubbo is bad and hates him, stuff like that). As well as the choice to leave c!Techno ultimately being the best option for c!Tommy's mental state in the long run.

I feel like I worded this a bit weirdly so to clarify: I think that boiling the situation down to "one is the betrayer" removes a lot of important details from the situation that should be taken into consideration when talking about it.

I think it's valid for c!Techno to feel however he feels, but that doesn't mean that his feelings are an accurate depiction of the situation.

Basically, any character is allowed to feel whatever emotions they feel. The audience however shouldn't judge the situation based exclusively on that. Not just in this scenario, but in every scenario.

That said, as things are, we have to understand what betrayal is divorced from any feelings in the situation.

I think that for a betrayal to take place you need there to be deception and harm being done to the "betrayed" party. So in this case we cannot establish Tommy as a "betrayer" because he was entirely honest and upfront with Techno. There was no deception at any stage, he just changed side at one point, but was also very open about doing that. Change is not betrayal. He also didn't really bring any harm to Techno at all by changing sides aside from his feelings being hurt a bit. Still Techno wasn't attacked, there was no ambush, he wasn't griefed and his home wasn't destroyed and Tommy even apologized to him right in the moment. He literally was not betrayed in any way.

Techno however did use deception (which is a fancy way to describe the manipulation) until the day before the festival and did end up harming Tommy by siding with his abuser and destroying his country, bombing it to bedrock.

Calling Techno a betrayer in this situation is slightly muddled, but not entirely inaccurate and it doesn't detract anything from the situation. It actually describes it more accurately.

However, you can say that neither betrayed the other. But if you say that it's important not to paint their actions as equal, because they aren't. Yes, c!Techno's feelings were hurt a bit by Tommy leaving and he has a right to feel that way, but he still manipulated a guy he knew to be vulnerable for the majority of their alliance and then teamed with the guy he knew had hurt him and blew his country to bedrock. They are not equally responsible for their falling out, Techno is responsible for 90% of it.

Also, while Tommy didn't leave Techno in the best situation possible, the only reason anyone around Techno was hostile in the first place (and most of them weren't) was that he'd assured the guy who'd been publicly berating Tubbo that he was on his side. Tommy didn't leave Techno in a hard situation he put him into, Techno put himself in that position, divorced from Tommy's actions. If Techno had been just a casual bystander instead of openly supporting Dream of all people he'd have been in no danger at all and him and Tommy parting ways could have been unremarkable.

And I know that c!Techno absolutely abhors this concept: but his actions and words have consequences. They should have more quite frankly, but he has enough brute force to avoid most of them.

[fantastic-rambles]

The Snakes’ Deception

Fandom: Haikyuu!! (@aikk00's Racing AU)

Characters (in order of appearance): Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke, Sakishima Isumi, Daishou Suguru, Fukunaga Shouhei, Yamamoto Taketora, Haiba Lev, other Nekoma members (not mentioned by name)

Warnings: Physical Violence, Language

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: When the Snakes, led by Daishou Suguru, come to challenge Kuroo for the title of Drift King, the Nekoma Crew isn’t going to take that lying down. But when the Snakes start to play nasty, the stakes are raised even further, and Kuroo has to fight to stay calm and prove that he’s the undisputed champion.

[A/N: RIP my dozen other drafts for other stories. I actually was planning to write this a few days before the Daishou art (also by aikk00), except I knew practically nothing about drift racing so I needed to do research, lul. I watched Tokyo Drift, some Initial D, some Grand Tour, and did a lot of reading online on drift racing and drifting in general, but tbh, I still don’t quite understand the mechanics (I don’t drive stick and I can’t go out and learn how to drift), so I apologize if this is horribly inaccurate. :P]

"The road condition looks good today, but it's still a little wet from earlier. Watch yourself going into the turns so you don't end up spinning out. The Snakes will probably do something though, especially since they asked you to race with Sakishima before Daishou. It should be okay when you're in the lead, but be ready to take defensive measures when you're chasing. My guess is that they'll try to take advantage of your skill at closing the gap and your power-over drift to orchestrate some sort of accident," Kenma commented quietly without looking up from his laptop, his fingers tapping away as he inputted a continuous stream of data. He seemed oblivious to the roar of the crowd outside the car, and Kuroo reached over to tousle his black-and-gold hair affectionately.

"Got it, Kenma. Anything else?"

"I know you won't listen, but you should just go all-out from the start. Not your usual way of racing. But if you do end up chasing, just do a normal drift and keep space between you and Sakishima. If they are aiming for an accident, it's more likely to happen when you're on the outside, so it'll slam into your side and Sakishima will be safe. But your numbers look good. I'm just going to tell Yaku-san to put a little more air into your rear tires," Kenma replied, closing the lid on his laptop and pushing open the passenger-side door, letting the sound of cheering and taunts into the vehicle. After he'd left and closed the door, Kuroo rolled down his window to light a cigarette, letting the smoke drift out into the night sky. Kenma hadn't said anything that he hadn't expected--especially with regard to the Snakes--but it was always reassuring to get their analyst's perspective before a race. Kenma wasn't the type to get fired up like the rest of the crew, but that cool-headed analysis was part of the reason they were able to climb so high in the rankings despite not always having the best cars or the best drivers. The ridiculous title of "Drift King" that he'd somehow ended up with was the result of Kenma's work as much as his own.

Still, Kenma was right. Even if it meant getting into an accident, Kuroo didn't intend to change the way he drifted. Part of the thrill of these races was the pure adrenaline high from going fast, especially when there was the risk of injury or even death. It was the reason why he'd mastered the power-over drift so that he could keep accelerating through the turn, and swung close enough to his opponents during his chases to make them panic. Even against the Snakes and their underhanded dealings, he'd show them that his way of fighting was still better, no matter what they threw at him.

He looked up when a shadow fell over him as Yaku leaned over his open window, the electric pump in his hand.

"You're good to go, Kuroo. Go ahead and show off," Yaku shouted over the din. Kuroo nodded, flicking his cigarette out the window and rolling up the glass. Yaku stepped back as he revved the engine, pulling up to the starting line where Sakishima was already waiting. Unlike most racers, Kuroo preferred chasing from the start to throw his opponent off his game. Before he'd inherited the title of Drift King, he'd been known as the Comeback Kid for his knack for overcoming what was traditionally seen as an unfavorable position. But the psychological benefit of overtaking the opponent and the pressure it put on the other racer, in addition to his skill with his clean lines and sharp angles that allowed him to do so consistently, had eventually shot him to the top of the Tokyo drifting world.

At the signal, Sakishima peeled past the starting line, and Kuroo quickly shot after him, staying close to his tail as they sped down the course. Even though his heart was racing, his head was completely clear, every sense focused on the view just beyond his windshield. Both he and Kenma were confident that Sakishima wouldn't try anything until the turn, but that was no reason to relax, especially at the speeds that they were going. Still, nothing happened when they reached the first clipping point, and Kuroo's eyes narrowed as he quickly estimated the distances and speeds between their cars, making his calculations swiftly and throwing himself into a drift just a heartbeat after Sakishima.

And it was perfect. His hand rested casually on the wheel as his tires squealed, sending up plumes of smoke as the tail of his car whipped around the curve, flying nearly parallel to Sakishima. The Snake seemed rattled as he spun into the next turn, turning slightly wide as Kuroo effortlessly stuck to him, their cars nearly touching as Kuroo grinned. It was pretty clear already which of them was the better drifter, not that it had ever been a question.

He let the car carry itself into the third point with just a few adjustments on his side, almost laughing as Sakishima had to drag on his own wheel to make the turn. The perfect chance presented itself almost immediately, and he aimed for the gap in Sakishima's barely controlled swing. But then, suddenly, the other car was spinning out as the Snake overcompensated, an out-of-control, two-ton wrecking ball flying toward him.

Kuroo jerked his wheel, pulling himself out of the drift and spinning out himself, the two cars making donuts on the road until he couldn't tell left from right. But the ominous crunch of metal never came, and when his car finally screeched to a stop, Kuroo slapped himself out of the harness and kicked his door open, stepping out onto the asphalt and casting his glare out at the spectators, looking for one specific slit-eyed face in particular.

"Daishou!" he bellowed, stomping toward the crowd and seizing the Snake by the collar, dragging him over the barrier. "What the fuck was that?"

But the other man just stared at him, all wide-eyed innocence. "'What the fuck' was what, Kuroo-san? Isumi made a mistake. Everyone saw that. He's not used to wet roads, but that's why I asked you to run with him so he could get some practice, because you're the only one good enough to not get hurt if he really fucks up. Like he did."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Kuroo spun and slammed Daishou onto the ground, making the Snake wince as his back made contact with the asphalt. "That trick had your slime smeared all over it. You wanted to use Sakishima to take me out so you'd win the next run by default. If I hadn't been expecting something like that from you, I'd probably be in an ambulance on my way to the hospital right now."

Sakishima had caught up to them and was now clinging to Kuroo's arm, trying to pull him off while babbling insincere apologies. Kuroo shrugged him off impatiently as Daishou's hands landed on his wrist, trying to make him let go, but Kuroo shook him like a terrier with a rat, the adrenaline and testosterone giving him an incredible high.

"Really, Kuroo-san. Ask anyone. They would all say that it's a normal accident," Daishou protested. "You know these kinds of things happen all the time. But you're okay, Isumi's okay. No harm, no foul, right?"

The crowd was murmuring in the background, but Kuroo couldn't hear what they were saying through the blood pounding in his ears. He was just drawing his fist back to punch that smarmy smile off the Snake's face when a deluge of water crashed over both of them. Sputtering, he looked up to see Shouhei holding an empty bucket, Kenma standing beside him.

"Cooled off, Kuro?" Kenma asked in his deadpan voice as he approached them. "Or should I ask Fukunaga to get another bucket?"

Kuroo grimaced, shaking the water out of his eyes and hair as he leaned back slightly, still not letting Daishou go. Kenma crouched beside him, speaking softly, so that the crowd couldn't hear.

"You know that the Snakes are just like this. To everyone else, this does look like a normal accident. If you go any further, you're the one that's going to get a bad reputation. Right now, we can still pass it off as the heat of the moment. Let him go, Kuro."

"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, Kuro," Daishou taunted. Kuroo's expression shut down, and he drew back his arm again. But this time, Kenma clung to it, still hissing in his ear.

"Stop it, Kuro. You know that everyone says that. They've been saying it for years. It doesn't mean anything. Stop letting him get to you!"

Kuroo grimaced again, but he listened to Kenma, letting his friend quietly talk him down until he was calm enough to shove Daishou away and get up. Accepting a towel from Shouhei, he tousled his hair dry while glaring at Daishou, who got back to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Sakishima-san forfeited the run," Kenma continued, still talking in his flat, measured tone. "So you'll be up against Daishou later. Are you up to it?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm ready to beat his ass," Kuroo snarled, and Kenma nodded at Shouhei, who ran across the asphalt to retrieve Kuroo's car. They'd probably replace the rear wheels to be safe, and then Kenma would have to run his checks again, but when they were done, his car would be better than new and more than ready to run the cheating bastard into the ground.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes, bending over to accept Kenma's offer of a light, and took a deep drag to steady his nerves. Being emotional during a race was the fastest way to get a ride to the morgue, so he needed to re-center himself. By then, the rest of his team had caught up to him, and Tora's particularly heated spiel about Daishou and his team helped bleed away most of the anger as they walked back to the starting line. Kenma had slipped away at some point, and Yaku was nowhere to be seen, so they were probably working on the car while he settled down. Really, he didn't deserve his friends.

By the time they arrived back at the beginning, the cool night air had washed away the rest of his irritation, which was probably Kenma's intention in making him walk back with the others. Shouhei and Yaku had just finished installing new tires, and Kenma was hunched over his laptop again on the curb, only looking up briefly when Kuroo sat down next to him.

"Thanks."

Kenma shrugged, his face bleached by the light from his screen. "I'm just doing my job."

"I mean earlier."

Kenma shrugged again, and a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the clicking of the keyboard. The rest of the team was huddled around the car, making checks and occasionally bringing Kenma more numbers, gradually shifting to sit around their captain and his brain, filling the silence with their chatter as other drifters made their runs.

"Hey, wait! You're playing a game, Kenma!" Lev protested, peering over Kenma's shoulder. "What about the race?"

"Kuroo will be fine," Kenma replied calmly as Kuroo looked over at his screen too, which seemed to be displaying the view through a sniper's scope. "His car's fine, and Daishou wants to beat Kuroo. If he tries the same thing, it'll be suspicious, and even if he did, if Kuroo doesn't spin out again, then Daishou will lose. And Kuroo is better than him, so if he does try anything else, it'd be more likely that he'd mess up and Kuroo would still win. His best chance at this point is a fair fight, and that means Kuroo could drive laps around him all day."

Kuroo grinned, standing up and stretching. "Well then, I guess that's my cue to get ready. I'll see you all at the finish line."

He walked over to his car, standing by the driver's door and just running a hand over the shining, red exterior for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he got inside, strapping himself down. The familiar feeling of exhilaration that he got just before a run made him smile as he pulled into place behind the next pair of cars, watching out of the corner of his eye as Daishou pulled up next to him.

And then, soon enough, they were flying down the road, Kuroo chasing again, keeping the pressure on his opponent. As Kenma had said, there was no way for Daishou to beat him, and he proved that as he took the lead at the very first bend, hitting the edge perfectly while gunning his engine through the whole course, making the best run that he'd probably ever done and leaving Daishou in his dust. If it was possible, he was even sharper on the turns than he had been against Sakishima, pushing himself and his car to the utmost limit. And there was no better feeling than watching the Snake come up to him to shake his hand after his loss, smiling like it hurt his teeth.

"As expected of the Drift King. But it won't last forever. Someday, someone will knock you off that throne."

And Kuroo had smiled back, the smirk that he knew infuriated Daishou more than anything else.

"Come at me whenever you want. I'll beat you down every time."

[A/N2: This isn't KuroKen. They're just really good childhood friends, so Kenma knows how to calm Kuroo down because they've been part of each other's lives for so long, and Kenma in particular is good at paying attention to people. Kuroo gets pissed at Daishou for calling Kenma his "girlfriend" not because of the implication that he's "whipped" (because Kuroo is perfectly secure in his masculinity), but rather because I have a headcanon that Kenma got teased a lot for being "girly" (weak, thin, kinda androgenous, etc.) growing up, so Kuroo still gets upset when that's used to insult his best friend (even though Kenma honestly doesn't give a fuck). But they're not in a romantic relationship; they just spend a lot of time together.

Of course, if you wanna interpret it as KuroKen, that's your prerogative, but that wasn't my intention in writing this.]

[neerasrealm]

Kagekao’s Day

A fic that follows the average day in the life of our favorite demonic trickster as he gets up to...whatever it is he gets up to. Please note I am not Japanese so the japanese used in this fic is google translated and may be inaccurate or wonky. Apologies in advance for that. Word count: 3489

Shinjuku’s Golden Gai. Arguably one of his favorite places to spend long nights drinking in. The Golden Gai, or Golden Street as tourists would call it, was a quaint little labyrinth of bars, shops and clubs. He’d squeezed himself into a random bar, he wasn’t sure if he’d been there before but the place did serve some damn good umeshu. He’d already drank maybe two bottles worth. It was surprising they would still serve him after so much. Maybe it was because he didn’t get drunk very easily. He was tipsy at most.

He snapped his fingers as a waiter walked past his booth. He propped his clawed feet up on the table as he turned to look at him. He held up his empty glass, shaking it a bit. The ice clinked quietly as he did so. ‘’Motto kudasai.’’ he chirped. The waiter nodded and walked off to grab him another drink. He settled down again, ready to get himself comfy for bottle number three, but then his phone rang. He scowled and reached into his pocket, hitting answer without even looking at the caller ID. ‘’Osu.’’ he grunted, playing with his scarf. He heard a deep chuckle on the other side of the phone.

‘’Well hello there,’’ the voice was deep, and oozed charisma. He smiled and sat up. ‘’Is this a bad time, Kagekao?’’ 

He giggled. ‘’No, no, kami-sensei. Not at alllll.’’ he purred. ‘’To what do I owe the pleasure, hmmmmm?’’

The man on the other end of the phone chuckled again. ‘’I have a job for you. Think you could drop by? We’d love to see you again.’’

He swung his feet off the table and grinned, giggling. ‘’Of course, of course!’’ he chirped. ‘’Sounds fun! Very very fun, kekekeke!’’ he reached into his dress, pulling his wallet from one of the ever-so-delightful pockets. He pulled out the yen and tossed it onto the table. ‘’I’ll be there soon!’’ 

‘’Good, good. I’ll see you soon then.’’ the voice on the phone purred before hanging up. Kagekao skittered out of the bar and off to see Zalgo.

Getting to Zalgo’s realm was easy enough. Find a wall, draw a giant ‘Z’ on it and simply wait for the gates of hell to open up! Kagekao gleefully waltzed through the tunnel to the barren wasteland Zalgo resided in. It was a very dreary place...and Kagekao loved that! He took his time getting to the house. He liked messing with the lost souls that roamed the wasteland. They weren’t really able to fight back, and couldn’t think enough to be anything but innocently confused and curious. Kagekao playfully cackled to himself as he skittered off to Zalgo’s nice, cozy house.

Now he could have taken the door that was always left unlocked, but that was boring! Instead, he scaled the house and made his way up to the chimney. He squeezed himself into it and rapidly skittered down, being as loud as possible in the process. He giggled at the confused shouts and noises he could hear through the wall. He stopped near the entrance of the chimney. The fireplace was unlit. 

‘’Kekekekekeke…’’ 

He heard shuffling in the room. The rustle of a newspaper, or magazine. Then someone, male, sighing. He giggled. ‘’Jason! Can you come here a second?’’ he called out, mimicking the young, feminine voice of Jane. The male grunted and got off the couch, crossing the room.

‘’Yes?’’ 

While he was occupied, Kagekao crawled out of the fireplace and onto the ceiling. He tilted his head, turning to look at the redheaded man standing in the doorway, his back turned to Kagekao. The demon pulled his scarf up onto the ceiling, out of sight, before replying. ‘’Nevermind, I got it!’’

Jason grunted and turned, walking back over to the armchair he’d been sitting in. Kagekao silently crept along the ceiling until he was directly over where the toymaker sat. Biting back a giggle, he braced himself, then let go of the ceiling. The screech Jason let out had him cackling.

‘’KEKEKEKEKE! Mitsuketa!!’’ he giggled as he rolled over in Jason’s lap and sat up, pressing his mask to the toymaker’s shocked face. Jason blinked a couple times before his lips curled into a snarl. He shoved Kagekao off of him roughly, sending the giggling demon to the floor. Kagekao rolled over onto his hands and knees and snapped his neck to the side a few times, making loud snapping noises as he did so. ‘’Ya-ho!’’ he chirped in greeting. Jason growled and kicked at him. The demon quickly backflipped out of the way with a giggle. 

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Jason snapped. Kagekao giggled again and leapt to his feet.

‘’Zalgo called me!’’ he chirped. Jason huffed and shook his head, muttering to himself. Kagekao snapped his neck around at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. He grinned beneath his mask at the sight of Zalgo standing in the doorway, smirking as he always did. ‘’Ya, kami-sensei!’’ he greeted excitedly. Zalgo chuckled.

‘’Hello Kagekao.’’ he greeted calmly before tilting his head, golden eyes flicking to the angry toymaker. ‘’Jason, shouldn’t you be bringing guests up to my lounge? The living room is hardly a place for me to have formal discussions.’’

Jason glared at Zalgo like he wanted nothing more than to tear the smug god to shreds. ‘’He came down the chimney.’’ he replied bluntly. Kagekao nodded.

‘’It’s true! Then I dropped into Jason’s lap.’’ he purred. Literally. Like a cat. ‘’He’s very warm and snuggly, kekeke.’’

‘’Well that’s good to know.’’ Zalgo murmured back. Jason buried his face in his magazine and did the breathing exercises Alice had been teaching him. Zalgo looked back over at Kagekao and smiled warmly. ‘’Come, I’d like to speak with you in private.’’ he glanced at Jason for a second before turning on his heel and gesturing for Kagekao to follow. He followed obediently, though he didn’t stop himself from looking around and touching anything that caught his interest. Zalgo didn’t seem to mind very much. 

He led Kagekao into his lounge. Though it also worked as an office. It was a big room, with high walls covered with bookshelves and drawers, along with a few trinkets. A mannequin with a pair of goggles on it, a glass case with giant butterfly wings in it, and a perfectly preserved human heart! That last one was Kagekao’s favorite, though Zalgo didn’t like him touching it. Zalgo strode over to the large desk and sat himself down on it, watching Kagekao intently as he skittered around the room a few times before deciding to flop himself into an oversized armchair. He curled his knees up, kneading his claws into the fabric as he got comfy before relaxing. He purred to himself before looking at Zalgo, who’s expression had turned more serious now.

‘’Do you have any wine?’’ he asked. Zalgo looked at him for a moment before snapping his fingers. Flames burst into the air, then disappeared. Leaving a bottle of wine in their place. The bottle fell down into Kagekao’s lap. He giggled happily and quickly uncorked it. 

‘’I have an assignment for you,’’ Zalgo murmured, his voice serious now that they were in private. ‘’It’s important. This is something only you can do for me, Kagekao. I trust you can get it done.’’

‘’Mmm…’’ Kagekao pulled his mask up and chugged some wine straight from the bottle. He’d have preferred a glass, to let the wine air out and settle more, but he was thirsty from all the time he’d spent drinking earlier. ‘’Of course. I can do anything.’’

‘’Good.’’ Zalgo leaned back where he sat. ‘’I want you to check on the proxies. Ask them if they’ve seen anyone...out of the ordinary recently. Wearing a mask.’’

Kagekao looked up. ‘’Out of the ordinary?’’ he cocked his head. ‘’You’re never specific, are you kami-sensei?’’ he added with a laugh. ‘’I can do it though! No problem. I’ll get to see the goggle brothers again!!’’

Zalgo arched a brow. ‘’The goggle brothers?’’

‘’Doby and Toby!’’ Kagekao threw his arms up, then squeaked when he almost spilled wine on himself. 

Zalgo smiled a small bit. ‘’Call them what you like,’’ he murmured as he stood up. ‘’Just make sure you don’t mention me-’’

‘’I know I know.’’ Kagekao cut in as he slurped down more wine. ‘’They can’t know you’re the person behind the Operator, lies and deception, I get it.’’ Zalgo looked surprised. He wasn’t used to being interrupted. Kagekao hopped to his feet and rocked on his heels. ‘’Can I run some errands before I report back?’’ he asked. 

Zalgo nodded. ‘’Whatever you want.’’ he replied simply. ‘’Just get it done.’’

Kagekao gleefully hopped, skipped and jumped out of Zalgo’s realm. He found himself back in the human world. Specifically somewhere in the US. He wandered through the town he’d been popped out at before finding himself in the local park. Bordering the park was a thick forest. He strolled through the trees, deeper and deeper into the forest until he came upon a cabin. Though it was closer to being a shack. Dilapidated and broken down. The wood it was made from was rotting, and nature seemed to be reclaiming it. Kagekao walked over and climbed onto the roof of the shack. He skittered across it and looked down into the backyard.

‘’Yeah it was fuckin’ weird! I don’t know- third base!- who would keep their soda in the cabinet like??’’ a young voice spoke below him.

‘’Guess they like room temperature soda.’’ a second, deeper voice replied. Two boys sat out on the back porch. Or rather, one of them was sitting on the porch. The second boy, who wore mismatched knee socks, an old purple hoodie and had fluffy chestnut hair, was sitting on the other’s lap. Kagekao climbed down the wall, staring down at the two of them intently. 

‘’Who the fuck drinks room temperature soda?’’ Doby asked as he tapped his fingers against his bare thigh. Toby shrugged and wrapped his arms around his friend, his shoulder jerking for a moment. He sighed and rested his head on Doby’s shoulder. 

Kagekao slowly reached down and ran his fingers through Toby’s curly hair. The boy jumped in surprise, his fist punching outward on instinct. ‘’Fuck off!’’ he yelped. Both of their heads snapped up suddenly, looking at the demon casually perched on the wall above them. He tilted his head to the side, grinning beneath his mask. 

Doby’s lips curled up into a grin. ‘’Hey bitch.’’ he chirped. 

Kagekao giggled again. ‘’Hisashiburi desu ne.’’ he greeted. ‘’Genki datta?’’

Doby smirked and rolled his eyes. ‘’I can’t understand you.’’ 

Kagekao climbed down off the wall and hummed. Toby watched him crawl around the porch like a cat, or some kind of lizard. ‘’It’s been a while,’’ the demon murmured. ‘’How have you two been, hm?’’ 

‘’We’re good,’’ Toby murmured. ‘’What’re you doing here?’’ 

Kagekao snapped his neck to the sides a few times, as if mimicking the boy’s tics. He sat himself in front of them, crossing his legs. ‘’Just checking on you two.’’ he hummed. ‘’Anything interesting been happening lately? Anyone wandering into the woods?’’ he asked with a grin.

Doby smiled. ‘’A couple. You know how it is…’’ He mimicked swinging a baseball bat, a clear indicator that he was remembering times when the two had had to keep intruders from finding their little base of operations..

‘’And nobody else?’’ Kagekao tilted his head. ‘’Nobody with...a mask or anything such?’’

Toby frowned. ‘’Mask?’’ he asked softly. Doby nudged him.

‘’Sorry, tic.’’ he grunted before looking back at Kagekao. ‘’What do you mean by ‘mask’?’’ he asked slowly, his eyes narrowing at the demon. 

Kagekao grinned slyly under his own mask. ‘’Someone covering their face. Hiding.’’ he replied. ‘’There’s been someone going around lately...causing issues in the community.’’ he shrugged. ‘’Don’t know their name. Just that they wear a mask and they might be causing issues.’’

Doby hummed. ‘’Nah don’t know ‘em.’’ he said. ‘’Right Toby?’’

Toby nodded, almost too enthusiastically. ‘’Right, right.’’ he parroted. Kagekao hummed and stood up. On his hands. He stretched out one of his arms, balancing his full weight on one palm. 

‘’Well then,’’ he suddenly flipped himself up into the air, landing on the ground with ease. ‘’If that’s the case...then I’ll leave you boys be.’’ he looked at the two proxies. Neither of them spoke. They just stared up at him cautiously. Kagekao laughed and stepped away from the shack, moving toward the forest again. ‘’I’ll see you two soon, hopefully.’’ he added with a sly grin.

With his work done, Kagekao could do whatever he wanted. And he knew exactly what his next visit would be. He had to take a shortcut through Zalgo’s realm, but soon enough he found himself in Louisiana. Specifically a small town in Louisiana that had a forest bordering the side of it. He perched himself up in a tree and waited and waited. Eventually, a silver minivan drove out of the forest and Kagekao grinned. He leapt out of the tree and skittered through the woods and into the fairy circle buried deep inside it. He stopped in the mansion’s front garden and giggled. The mansion was typically impenetrable, accessible only to people who had Slender’s specific marking. Which Kagekao had, though Slender didn’t need to know that.

He crawled along the side of the house, finding his way into the back garden. He poked his head out and looked into the yard. Sitting by a flower patch, humming innocently was a small girl. Her hair was fiery, turning from blonde to red as it fell around her shoulders. She wore gray dungarees and a striped shirt, rolled up to her elbows, along with a red bowtie. Her skin was a reddish-brown, dotted with bronze freckles. Kagekao slinked out from behind the house and skittered across the grass, hiding in a bush. The girl looked up in surprise. She glanced around for a few moments, her golden eyes locking on the bush he was hiding in. Slowly, she stood up and crept over to him, head tilted curiously. She crouched by the bush, reaching out carefully. 

And then he pounced. She shrieked as the two of them rolled over the grass. They came to a stop, Kagekao leaning over her. She blinked in surprise, looking at him, before grinning. ‘’Gecko!!’’ 

‘’Ya-ho Slendra-cha!.’’ he greeted with a smile. 

The girl giggled and pushed him up off of her, sitting up. ‘’Hisashiburi desu ne,’’ she replied. ‘’Genki datta?’’ 

Kagekao smiled. Ah, one of his few friends who spoke japanese. ‘’Genkidesu.’’ he replied. She smiled and tilted her head, hair falling over her shoulder.

‘’What’re you doing here?’’ she narrowed her eyes at him. A sly smile crept up her face. ‘’You’re not causing mischief are you?’’ 

Kagekao folded his legs. ‘’Nooo…’’ he shook his head. ‘’I’d never do that!’’ 

She leaned closer to him. ‘’Uh-huh?’’ she asked. ‘’My dad’s gonna be mad if he finds out you’re here…’’

Kagekao grinned at Slendra. Oh, her father certainly would be unhappy to find out he was on the property of his enemy. But Zalgo needn’t know that. ‘’Slender just went grocery shopping.’’ he replied. ‘’I saw the car leave.’’

The girl pursed her lips, a smile curling up her face. ‘’You’re planning something aren’t you?’’

‘’Your father wouldn’t notice if a wine bottle or two went missing…’’ Kagekao replied. She giggled. 

‘’You’re gonna get in troubleeeee.’’ she chided. Kagekao leaned into her.

‘’I knoooooow.’’ he replied. ‘’Now let me into your house.’’

Slendra rolled her eyes and laughed. ‘’Fine! But only if you promise to bring me those japanese potato chips I like next time you come over!’’ she pointed at him accusingly. Kagekao nodded, just eager to get his claws on some high quality wine. The girl smirked and stood up, leading the demon over to the back door. She slid it open and stepped into the neat, empty kitchen. ‘’You’re lucky Tim took Cody and EJ out you know.’’ she chided.

Kagekao padded toward the kitchen door, peering through the keyhole. ‘’Who’s home?’’ he asked.

‘’Mmm...Jeffery and Ben went with dad. Helen is in their room, and pops took the girls out.’’ she replied. ‘’So...you just gotta look out for Rachel.’’ Kagekao smirked. Rachel? She was only a human! Sure she was a psychic too but...nothing he couldn’t handle.

‘’Thank you Slendra.’’ he chirped before opening the kitchen door and skittering his way down to the basement. He flattened himself against the wall and peeked into the basement. It was sizable and comfy, with a few rooms. Including the miniature wine cellar, only across from him. His gaze moved over to the small couch on the right of the room. It was a cozy little area, with a coffee table, TV and several old gaming consoles, along with a cabinet full of games. Sitting on the couch, holding a game controller, was a woman with medium black hair, wearing an outfit of the same colour. She was playing some old shooter with monsters in it. Kagekao couldn’t be bothered to remember the name. He didn’t care for virtual games. 

Silently as possible, he climbed up the wall and reached the ceiling. He froze, snapping his neck to check on the woman. Rachel Downs...a powerful psychic, but an average human. He’d be wary of her, at the very least. He crept along the ceiling, keeping his head locked on her the whole time. He had almost, almost reached Slenderman’s stash of delicious wine when Rachel suddenly yelled out in irritation. He jolted in fear, watching her throw down the controller in her lap. ‘’God damnit!’’ she snarled. ‘’Janky ass controls…’’ she shook her head, then stood up. Kagekao cursed under his breath and threw himself over to a shadowed corner, thankful that the basement lights weren’t on. Rachel frowned and looked over at him, and though she couldn’t spot his eyes, Kagekao stared right back. A few tense moments passed before she sighed and shook her head. ‘’Fuckin’ cats…’’ she muttered to herself as she turned and walked up the stairs. Kagekao stayed frozen still for a few moments before skittering out of the corner and over to the door to the wine cellar. He unlocked it with ease, using a copy of the key he’d stolen a few months ago.

You couldn’t exactly call it a wine cellar, more of a wine...room. Shelves that were lined with bottles upon bottles of the delicious red stuff. Kagekao giggled. He had at least an hour before Slender came home. Which was plenty of time. He wasted no time getting into a bottle of his favorite brand. Slender had exquisite taste in wine. And a concerning amount of it. You’d almost think the man was an alcoholic, if it weren’t for the fact that he was an ancient ethereal being who didn’t get drunk easily. Kagekao would have claimed to have that same excuse, but he was nowhere near ancient or ethereal, and his alcohol tolerance was still nothing compared to Slender’s. Not to mention he would drink for breakfast, lunch and dinner, when Slender would at least have a glass of juice in the morning.

He told himself he’d keep track of the time. But by the time he heard thumping upstairs and three sets of footsteps he was nowhere near ready to leave. His eyes widened, listening to muffled voices upstairs.

‘’Boys, you start putting all of this away. I’ll be up in a moment to help.’

’‘’Kay dad.’’

The footsteps moved some more, and then he heard the stairs to the basement creaking. Kagekao chugged down the last of the bottle he had clutched between his feet and skittered over to another shelf. He grabbed a bottle in each hand, still listening as Slender approached the room. He staggered over to the wall at the back of the room and drew on the sigil for Zalgo’s realm. As soon as the gateway was open enough for him to slip through, he darted in and closed it behind him. Not wanting to stick around for fear that he’d been caught, he skittered down the dark, damp tunnel until he emerged into the light.

He stumbled and fell against the wall of a building. He shivered. Wow- it was cold here. He crept out from behind the building and looked around until his eyes laid upon a bathhouse in the distance. Glancing around more, he realised he was in between a couple of restaurants. The smell of freshly cooked meat and good old fashioned sake filled his nose. Kagekao grinned.

He had a few hours to kill before he had to go back to Zalgo.

[a-long-walk-in-the-forest]

Do you think the villages are cults? In my opinion, they do score quite high on the BITE model

Hello, I’m going to give a very poorly thought out and messy answer so I apologize in advance. 

It isn’t really an answer to your question just my ramblings about my confusion about the term cult.

I’m not really qualified to speak on any matter concerning sociology since It’s outside my field of expertise and I’m kind of confused about what a cult is, the term to me, without further research, implies a vaguely malicious organization that engages in brainwashing and causes some sort of harm.

I looked at the definition of the word itself and it’s a word with several different definitions, most of which are very broad:

According to the Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (1971), the term cult originally referred to 

worship; reverential homage rendered to a divine being or beings ... a particular form or system of religious worship; especially in reference to its external rites and ceremonies ... devotion or homage to a particular person or thing.

More recently, the term has taken on additional connotations: 

A religion regarded as unorthodox or spurious...

 A system for the cure of disease based on dogma set forth by its promulgator...

a. great devotion to a person, idea, object, movement, or work... 

b. a usually small group of people characterized by such devotion (Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition, 1994)

If we go based on these definitions almost anything can be considered a cult.

I briefly looked at google scholar for articles regarding the topic (I’m not sure which sources are considered reputable in this field so that is also a problem). I had a brief look at this and this. I also looked at this which said:

Robbins’s (1988) review of recent sociological contributions to the study of cults identifies four definitional perspectives:

cults as dangerous, authoritarian groups

cults as culturally innovative or transcultural groups

cults as loosely structured protoreligions

Stark and Bainbridge’s (1985) subtypology that distinguishes among audience cults (members seek to receive information—e.g., through a lecture or tape series), client cults (members seek some specific benefit—e.g., psychotherapy, spiritual guidance), and cult movements (organizations that demand a high level of commitment from members).

Rutgers University professor Benjamin Zablocki (1997) says that sociologists often distinguish cult from church, sect, and denomination. Cults are innovative, fervent groups. If they become accepted into the mainstream, cults, in his view, lose their fervor and become more organized and integrated into the community; they become churches. When people within churches become dissatisfied and break off into fervent splinter groups, the new groups are called sects. As sects become more stolid and integrated into the community, they become denominations. Zablocki defines a cult as “an ideological organization held together by charismatic relationships and demanding total commitment.” According to Zablocki, cults are at high risk of becoming abusive to members, in part because members’ adulation of charismatic leaders contributes to those leaders becoming corrupted by the power they seek and are accorded.

Definitions proposed at various times by associates of ICSA tend to presume the manifestation of what is potential in Zablocki’s definition. These definitions tend to emphasize elements of authoritarian structure, deception, and manipulation, and the fact that groups may be psychotherapeutic, political, or commercial, as well as religious. One of the more commonly quoted definitions of cult was articulated at an ICSA/UCLA Wingspread Conference on Cultism in 1985:

This part is what I’m assuming you mean by cult

Cult (totalist type): A group or movement exhibiting a great or excessive devotion or dedication to some person, idea, or thing and employing unethically manipulative techniques of persuasion and control (e.g., isolation from former friends and family, debilitation, use of special methods to heighten suggestibility and subservience, powerful group pressures, information management, suspension of individuality or critical judgment, promotion of total dependency on the group and fear of leaving it…), designed to advance the goals of the group’s leaders, to the actual or possible detriment of members, their families, or the community. (West & Langone, 1986, pp. 119–120)

From what I understood, it goes on to say that it’s hard to label many organizations/movements as cults (has to be looked at on a case by case basis and a lot of the time there isn’t a consensus) and the lists are only things that could be cults and aren’t necessarily cults (it also greatly depends on which exact definition you are using). The other source mentioned how the term should be avoided in legal and academic matters for various reasons.

This made me question the validity of available predictive models as from what I know, having accurate and reliable data is necessary for an accurate and reliable model. A naive example would be if we wanted to predict an disease (Di) based on various symptoms (S1, S2, S3) we would have to have a bunch of data with these labels (so for example person Pi has Di and has S1 and S2 but not S3, we have these correctly labeled for n people) then we make a model based on a part of this data which will have a certain accuracy that we will check from the rest of this dataset. 

If we can’t say for sure if various organizations are really cults or not then the datasets that we are building our models from are very arbitrary and inaccurate so our model isn’t very reliable. I’m going to stress again that I don’t know the first thing about sociology and I only had a brief look at some articles.

There was another source that proposed looking at various key words that were published along with the word cult for various time period to get an understanding of what the term is mostly associated with during different time periods. This method obviously also has its shortcomings and basically I have no idea.

There was this fairly recent article that said this in its abstract:

I tried to introduce a new category, “criminal religious movements,” including groups that either (or both) consistently practice and justify common crimes such as terrorism, child abuse, rape, physical violence, homicide, and serious economic crimes, as opposite to the vague or imaginary crimes of “being a cult” or “brainwashing members.” The paper argues that there would be definite advantages in replacing categories such as xie jiao, “destructive cults,” and “extremist religions” (the latter now fashionable in Russia) with “criminal religious movements,” a notion that would refer to ascertained crimes perpetrated by each movement rather than to notions so vague that they become dangerous for religious liberty.

I only read the abstract but from this I concluded that it probably really is a vague (and somewhat problematic) term. This is to say, I have no clue what a cult actually is and what model is accurate, how to judge its accuracy, ...

I also don’t think the model you mentioned is very good. It has many parts that seem questionable and dangerous to religious freedom and the person who wrote it seems very biased to me. Still, I don’t know much about the subject and I’ll leave it to people who know what they’re talking about.

If I go by just intuition and that one definition (the ICSA/UCLA Wingspread Conference one) then I’m going to say yes (since we don’t know much about the other villages I’m only talking about the leaf). The excessive devotion is there (although what constitutes as excessive is up to personal interpretation to some extent, I think the grey of their case is close enough to black to be categorized as such), they employ unethical tactics for manipulation and control (much of it is canonically unethical, hence their insistence on hiding it and their various excuses), for the leader and to the detriment of the community part is somewhat grey but overall I do think it was more a personal matter than genuinely caring about the community for most leaders (particularly the council but others as well). In general though, I can’t say for sure. 

If you made it this far I apologize again for not being able to answer your question properly and hope you have a good day.

[redwineandwhitelies]

This isn’t mine but I started crying reading this and just related so intensely.

“Anxiety is more than just worrying.

Anxiety is the restless nights of sleep, as you toss and turn. It’s your brain never being able to shut off. It’s the thoughts you over-think before bedtime and all of your worst fears become a reality in dreams and nightmares.

It’s waking up tired even though your day just started.

Anxiety is learning how to function with sleep deprivation because it took you until 2 am to shut your eyes.

It’s every text you wonder ‘how do I word this properly?’ It’s a double or triple text in case you messed up. Anxiety is answering texts embarrassingly fast.

Anxiety is the time you spend waiting for an answer as a scenario plays out in your mind of what they could be thinking or are they mad?

Anxiety is an unanswered text that kills you inside even though you tell yourself, ‘maybe they’re busy or will answer later.’ Anxiety is that critical voice that says ‘maybe they’re deliberately ignoring you.’ It’s believing every negative scenario you can come up with.

Anxiety is waiting. It always feels like you’re waiting. It’s the inaccurate conclusions drawn as your mind takes off and you have no choice but to follow it’s destructive lead.

Anxiety is apologizing for things that don’t even require the words, ‘I’m sorry.’

Anxiety is self-doubt and a lack of confidence both in you, yourself and those around you. Anxiety is being hyper aware of everyone and everything. So much so, you can tell if there’s a shift in someone merely by their tone or word choice.

Anxiety is ruining relationships before they even begin. It tells you, ‘you’re wrong, they don’t like you, they’re going to leave.’ Then you jump to conclusions.

Anxiety is a constant state of worrying and panicking and being on the edge. It’s irrational fears. It’s thinking too much, it’s caring too much. Because the root of people with anxiety is caring.

It’s sweaty palms and a racing heart. But on the outside, no one can see it. You appear calm and at ease and smiling but underneath is anything but that. Anxiety is the art of deception for people who don’t know you. And for the people who do, it’s a constant stream of phrases like, ‘don’t worry’ or ‘you’re overthinking this’ or ‘relax.’ It’s friends listening to these conclusions you’ve drawn and not really understanding how you got there. But they’re there trying to support you, as things go from bad to worse in your mind.

Anxiety is wanting to fix something that isn’t even a problem.

It’s the stream of questions that make you doubt yourself.

Did I lock the door before I left?’

Did I turn off the stove?

Is the straightener still on?

It’s turning back around just to double check.

Anxiety is the uneasiness at a party because you think all eyes are on you and no one wants you there. Anxiety is that extra shot you take and it seems like you’re finally relaxing. Until you wake up the next day hungover, full of regret and wondering what you said to whom and do you owe them an apology?

Anxiety is the overcompensating and trying too hard to please people.

Anxiety is being everywhere on time because the thought of being late would put you over the edge.

Anxiety is the fear of failure and striving for perfection. Then beating yourself up when you fall short. It’s always needing a schedule or a plan.

Anxiety is that voice inside your head that’s saying ‘you’ll fail.’

It’s trying to exceed people’s expectations even if you’re killing yourself to do so. Anxiety is taking on more than you can handle just so you are distracted and not overthinking something.

Anxiety is procrastination because you’re paralyzed with fear of failing so you hold it off.

It’s the triggers that set you off.

It’s breaking down in private and crying when you’re overwhelmed but no one will ever see that side of you. Anxiety is picking up and trying again because the only thing worse than overcoming other people is overcoming you and your own demons.

It’s beating that critical voice that says, ‘you really fucked up.’ or ‘you should feel awful right now.’

Anxiety is the want and the need to control things because it feels like this thing in your life is outside of your control and you have to learn to live with it.

But more than anything anxiety is caring. It’s never wanting to hurt someone’s feelings. It’s never wanting to do something wrong. More than anything, it’s the want and need to simply be accepted and liked. So you try too hard sometimes.

And when you come across friends who begin to understand, they help you through it.

Then you realize this might be a battle you face every day but it’s one you won’t have to face alone.”

🤍

https://www.facebook.com/943631269016696/posts/1789927004387114/?extid=6QOXzWlqNy1AQteW&d=n

[blissfullblankslate]

Anxiety is more than just worrying.

Anxiety is the restless nights of sleep, as you toss and turn. It’s your brain never being able to shut off. It’s the thoughts you over-think before bedtime and all of your worst fears become a reality in dreams and nightmares.

It’s waking up tired even though your day just started.

Anxiety is learning how to function with sleep deprivation because it took you until 2 am to shut your eyes.

It’s every text you wonder ‘how do I word this properly?’ It’s a double or triple text in case you messed up. Anxiety is answering texts embarrassingly fast.

Anxiety is the time you spend waiting for an answer as a scenario plays out in your mind of what they could be thinking or are they mad?

Anxiety is an unanswered text that kills you inside even though you tell yourself, ‘maybe they’re busy or will answer later.’ Anxiety is that critical voice that says ‘maybe they’re deliberately ignoring you.’ It’s believing every negative scenario you can come up with.

Anxiety is waiting. It always feels like you’re waiting. It’s the inaccurate conclusions drawn as your mind takes off and you have no choice but to follow it’s destructive lead.

Anxiety is apologizing for things that don’t even require the words, ‘I’m sorry.’

Anxiety is self-doubt and a lack of confidence both in you, yourself and those around you. Anxiety is being hyper aware of everyone and everything. So much so, you can tell if there’s a shift in someone merely by their tone or word choice.

Anxiety is ruining relationships before they even begin. It tells you, ‘you’re wrong, they don’t like you, they’re going to leave.’ Then you jump to conclusions.

Anxiety is a constant state of worrying and panicking and being on the edge. It’s irrational fears. It’s thinking too much, it’s caring too much. Because the root of people with anxiety is caring.

It’s sweaty palms and a racing heart. But on the outside, no one can see it. You appear calm and at ease and smiling but underneath is anything but that. Anxiety is the art of deception for people who don’t know you. And for the people who do, it’s a constant stream of phrases like, ‘don’t worry’ or ‘you’re overthinking this’ or ‘relax.’ It’s friends listening to these conclusions you’ve drawn and not really understanding how you got there. But they’re there trying to support you, as things go from bad to worse in your mind.

Anxiety is wanting to fix something that isn’t even a problem.

It’s the stream of questions that make you doubt yourself.

Did I lock the door before I left?’

Did I turn off the stove?

Is the straightener still on?

It’s turning back around just to double check.

Anxiety is the uneasiness at a party because you think all eyes are on you and no one wants you there. Anxiety is that extra shot you take and it seems like you’re finally relaxing. Until you wake up the next day hungover, full of regret and wondering what you said to whom and do you owe them an apology?

Anxiety is the overcompensating and trying too hard to please people.

Anxiety is being everywhere on time because the thought of being late would put you over the edge.

Anxiety is the fear of failure and striving for perfection. Then beating yourself up when you fall short. It’s always needing a schedule or a plan.

Anxiety is that voice inside your head that’s saying ‘you’ll fail.’

It’s trying to exceed people’s expectations even if you’re killing yourself to do so. Anxiety is taking on more than you can handle just so you are distracted and not overthinking something.

Anxiety is procrastination because you’re paralyzed with fear of failing so you hold it off.

It’s the triggers that set you off.

It’s breaking down in private and crying when you’re overwhelmed but no one will ever see that side of you. Anxiety is picking up and trying again because the only thing worse than overcoming other people is overcoming you and your own demons.

It’s beating that critical voice that says, ‘you really fucked up.’ or ‘you should feel awful right now.’

Anxiety is the want and the need to control things because it feels like this thing in your life is outside of your control and you have to learn to live with it.

But more than anything anxiety is caring. It’s never wanting to hurt someone’s feelings. It’s never wanting to do something wrong. More than anything, it’s the want and need to simply be accepted and liked. So you try too hard sometimes.

And when you come across friends who begin to understand, they help you through it.

Then you realize this might be a battle you face every day but it’s one you won’t have to face alone.

[v-thinks-on]

Generations - Part 9

First | Previous || Sequel: Nemesis

Jim was subdued and contemplative for the next few days. He talked easily with the various officials that came to visit the famous captain, returned from the dead, but when he was alone with Spock, he was unusually quiet and serious. He made no indication that he wanted to talk about it, so Spock did not impose - he had done his part for better or worse and would push no further.

One evening, as they were preparing for bed, Jim spoke up. "There's nothing I can do," he said ruefully, but he did not sound defeated.

Spock waited for him to continue, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Jim sat down on the bed, and once Spock was dressed, he sat down facing Jim, with just a few inches between them.

Only then did Jim continue, “Maybe I could have beat Khan - raised the shields sooner, somehow kept him from getting the Genesis device - but I would probably do it all the same if I tried again.” He shook his head.

Spock looked him firmly in the eye. “Like all mortal beings, you at times make mistakes.”

Jim frowned and Spock could feel his displeasure at the sentiment, but he could not deny it. “There’s definitely nothing I can do about it now,” Jim admitted.

“If there had been another option, I would have taken it. Under the circumstances, I do not regret my decision,” Spock said, though that didn’t stop a feeling of guilt from seeping through the bond.

Jim nodded. He didn’t like it, but again he couldn’t argue. “No one else could have survived in there long enough to do anything. If we just had more time… But we didn’t. If you hadn’t done it, we would have all died, and then there wouldn’t have been anyone left to bring you back.” He gave Spock a weak smile.

“A very logical appraisal of the situation,” Spock said, almost cautiously. For all of Jim’s well-reasoned logic, a powerful malaise bubbled beneath the surface.

Spock reached out a hand with the vague intention of resting it on Jim’s arm, but Jim instead took Spock’s hand in his own, letting his unspoken feelings rush through the contact.

“Jim,” Spock said gently, with just a tinge of uncertainty as he tried to convey some kind of apology for everything he had put Jim through, even though he would do it all again in a heartbeat if Jim’s life was in danger.

Jim cradled Spock’s hand between his own, savoring his soft touch and the steady warmth that emanated from within. If Jim pressed his fingertips to Spock’s wrist, he could feel Spock’s heart racing at a Vulcan’s resting speed.

There was some distance between them, not a wall, but he could still feel Spock’s reticence, and Jim was still a little lost in memories. And yet, the warmth Jim felt through Spock’s hand was not only physical; there was also a great affection, restrained as it was, and a desire to do right by him and to mend what was broken.

Spock waited and watched him in silence, allowing Jim to take his time, almost afraid to upset the balance he had already disturbed.

The memories still haunted Jim, but he wondered if maybe the solution was right in front of him. He squeezed Spock’s hand and let his eyes fall shut to savor all of the soothing warmth that radiated from Spock. In return, he tried to answer all of Spock’s concerns with gentle reassurance. They had made it this far, there was little doubt they could figure out everything else.

He could feel a trace of a smile flash across Spock’s lips that was echoed on his own.

  “It’s absurd,” Jim said. He was sitting on Bones’s couch, under the cynical eye of his old friend. “How old am I?”

“Sixty,” Bones retorted.

“And eighty years out of touch,” Jim said, with a wave of his arm for emphasis. “I’m like one of my old antiques.”

"And what does that make me?" Bones demanded.

"I don't know," Jim said with a sigh. “You seem to enjoy retirement.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Bones wagged his finger at him.

Jim shook his head. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about returning to Starfleet, all I’d get is a desk job - or worse, publicity. They’d figure out pretty quick I’m too old to be of use anywhere else.”

“You damn well know that’s not true,” Bones snapped. “You’re just trying to talk yourself out of the most sensible decision you’ll ever make.”

Jim gave him a look. More seriously, he said, “Bones, I can’t go out there again.”

“Why the hell not?” Bones insisted. “You can’t tell me you’d rather follow Spock on his fool mission to Romulus, because we both know that’s not true.”

Jim let out another sigh and leaned back, letting his eyes wander up to the ceiling. “What if it happens again?”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, Jim, but everyone dies eventually, whether you’re exploring out there or wasting away down here,” Bones said, but his voice had lost its edge.

“It’s not that simple,” Jim protested.

Bones gave him a look of disbelief. “You always knew there were risks.”

“I know, but I didn’t really believe it. I always assumed we’d come out alright.”

Bones nodded. “Sometimes it felt like I was the only one taking things seriously.”

“But after Spock died…” Jim trailed off, unable to put it all into words.

“Toward the end there, I was worried you’d get yourself killed waiting for him to get his memories back,” Bones said quietly.

That just about summed it up. “And I tried again, but it just wasn’t the same.”

“They didn’t give you a chance,” Bones retorted. “And then Spock wandered off to try and make peace with the Klingons.”

“At least he was making a difference.”

Bones hesitated. “How are things with Spock? I can come up to San Francisco and knock some sense into him.”

“It’s alright.” Jim waved off the suggestion with a small smile. “Things are actually going well. The past eighty years haven’t been easy on him, but he’s been very supportive. He agrees with you that I should go back to Starfleet.”

“Damn right he does!”

  “You never were quite the same,” Jim remarked.

He and Spock were sitting on the couch in the living room of their apartment, Jim ostensibly reading and Spock meditating as he kitted again. But Jim had given up on reading a while ago in favor of watching Spock.

His words jarred Spock out of his meditation. He put aside his knitting and waited for Jim to continue, regarding him with his full attention.

“After you came back,” Jim explained. “You were never so... independent before. I know you only accepted that captaincy because I pushed you into it, but you finally found something that’s yours.” He smiled at Spock with open admiration.

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement, but remained more reserved. “I merely did what needed to be done,” he said, but they both knew it was more than that.

“You don’t really need me any more,” Jim said, his voice deceptively light.

Spock fixed him with his firmest look. “You may no longer be my commanding officer, but I have been and always shall be your friend.”

At the familiar words, Jim felt a rush of warmth, and a little shame at his accusation.

Spock held out his first two fingers to Jim, who reciprocated the gesture, brushing their fingertips together so sparks flew down their spines and danced across their minds. When they drew apart, they sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, letting the other’s presence echo in their mind.

Spock was the first to speak, slow and cautious; “I was under the perhaps inaccurate impression that my presence was insufficient to aid in your recovery from the broken bond - that you required something that I could not provide.”

“I don’t know what I need,” Jim admitted. “But your presence helps.”

The lonely years of his last mission and his subsequent solitary retirement lingered unspoken between them. Jim could feel the weight of Spock’s guilt.

Jim rested a reassuring hand on Spock’s shoulder. “We’ve both had more than our share of loneliness.” Jim hadn’t intended to be missing for eighty years, but when he left the bridge of the Enterprise-B he half expected not to survive at all.

“Would you like for me to serve as your first officer again?” Spock asked hesitantly, and maybe even a little reluctantly, but if Jim needed him, he would do anything.

“I don’t know,” Jim said. “There’s nothing like the good old days, but I don’t know if I could bear the responsibility. And I would hate to keep you away from Romulus.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know if I really want to go back out there.”

They both knew Spock’s opinion on the matter, so he did not bother to voice it.

Jim picked back up his reading and scootched over so he could lean against Spock’s chest, comfortably in the way of his knitting. Spock obligingly put an arm around Jim’s shoulders.

 Kirk and Spock met Scotty at the Starfleet transporter terminal. He bounded over to them as soon as he materialized, looking no older than when Kirk had last seen him on the Enterprise-B.

“Captain!” Scotty exclaimed, greeting Kirk with an outstretched hand.

“I’m not a captain anymore,” Kirk attempted, but he went ignored, probably for the best.

Scotty gave his hand a firm shake. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you again, Sir. I thought for sure you were dead.”

Kirk smiled. “You know I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

“Of course, Sir. And, Mr. Spock, it’s good to see you too. You didn’t get stuck in a temporal nexus too, did you?”

Spock shook his head and raised a hand, his fingers splayed in the formal Vulcan greeting. “Live long and prosper, Mr. Scott.”

“I intend to,” Scotty replied. He turned back to Kirk. “I came as soon as I heard, it just took a wee bit longer than expected. I had to hitch a ride on three different starships just to get back to the solar system.”

“You didn’t make it all the way here on the little shuttlecraft Picard gave you?” Kirk teased, as he led the way out of the transporter bay and into the hallway of Starfleet Headquarters.

“No,” Scotty said. “She’s a good craft, but even with the modifications I made to the engines, she’d still have taken a few years to make it to Earth.”

“I’ve been reading up on your adventures. It sounds like you’ve had quite the time.”

Scotty nodded. “And before you ask, I’m happy exploring in my own little craft. Anyway, you need a bright young chief engineer who can keep up with all your crazy demands.”

Kirk hesitated. “You know I’m still retired.”

Scotty gave him a look. “Have they not offered you a ship yet? Just point me to the head of Starfleet and I’ll give them a little talking to!”

“It’s not that,” Kirk said reluctantly. “They’ve offered, I just haven’t decided whether I want to accept.”

“You have a better offer?” Scotty asked skeptically.

“Maybe,” Kirk said with a glance over at Spock.

Spock made his disagreement known, though his expression remained impassive, and Scotty glanced between them both in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to become an ambassador,” Scotty said.

Kirk shrugged. “Something like that. It’s a possibility at least.”

Scotty just shook his head.

Kirk and Spock led Scotty around Starfleet Headquarters, making a token attempt at an official tour as they talked.

“Things really have changed,” Scotty remarked. “Out there, it doesn’t feel like it’s been so long, but down here…” he trailed off.

Kirk nodded in understanding. “Have you seen Bones?”

“No, I’ve been meaning to visit since I found out he was still around, but it’s such a hassle to come back to Earth with the shuttlecraft,” Scotty explained. He sounded a little sheepish.

“He’s doing well for a man of his age,” Kirk said with a subdued smile.

“If any of us had it in him to live this long, it would be Dr. McCoy,” Scotty said. “Not to mention Mr. Spock here with his Vulcan constitution. You really haven’t aged at all in the last eighty years.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “I feel my age, if more slowly than the average human.”

“Tell me when your hair turns grey,” Scotty retorted.

“The process has already begun.”

Scotty gave Spock a look of disbelief, before he turned back to Kirk. “It’s not so different once you get used to it, even the engines haven’t changed too much. Though they’ve become sticklers for regulation, at least they did on the Enterprise-D.”

“Captain Picard does it by the book. But the galaxy sure has changed since we made peace with the Klingons.” Kirk glanced over at Spock in acknowledgement.

“I don’t know,” Scotty said, “I’ve just been in my little sector, but space seems the same as it always was.”

“Good. There’s still plenty left to explore?”

“Of course! And it’s good to be back.”

Kirk nodded. “It is good to be back.”

Kirk rang at the door to Picard’s temporary office in Starfleet Headquarters.

“Come in,” Picard called out.

Kirk stepped inside. His office was large and mostly barren, like Kirk’s office on Earth had been before the paperwork started piling up.

“Oh, Jim, there you are,” Picard exclaimed, glancing up from a PADD. “For a moment I thought you were here about another personnel transfer. Have a seat.”

Kirk took the chair on the other side of Picard’s desk, as though he was there for a meeting. “How’s it going?” Kirk asked as he made himself comfortable.

“Well. It’s a lot of work, but slowly but surely it’s all coming together.” Picard spoke like a true captain, proud of his ship even before it was off the ground. “Have you been down to the construction site?”

“No,” Kirk admitted. “But I should.”

Picard hesitated. “If you’re still on Earth, I would be honored if you would give us a send-off.”

Kirk could only remember the last time he agreed to be there for the inauguration of a new Enterprise - not so long ago from his perspective.

It must have shown on Kirk’s face, because Picard added, “Only if you want to, of course. I know you’ve been getting more than your share of attention.”

Kirk smiled a little. “Just as long as you go out with a full crew and a functioning ship.”

“Of course. That’s standard procedure after the disastrous launch of the Enterprise-B…” Picard trailed off as he realized that was why Kirk had mentioned it. “There’s no danger of that happening again,” Picard reassured him.

“I wouldn’t mind jumping ahead another eighty years, but I don’t think Spock would be too happy about it.”

“No, I imagine not. How have you been doing on Earth?”

Kirk shrugged. “Alright, getting settled in, catching up with old friends.”

“Yes, I heard Captain Scott arrived recently.”

Kirk nodded. “We also met up with Bones - Admiral McCoy. Otherwise, Spock and I have been sorting things out.”

“Is Spock going to go back to Romulus?” Picard asked, his disapproval clear.

Kirk just smiled. “I couldn’t tell you if he was.”

Picard frowned. "Well, tell him that there are officially sanctioned channels for diplomacy if he wants to communicate with the Romulans. He can't just go around trying to alter the development of sovereign civilizations."

Kirk knew better than to attempt to argue with either of them. Instead he asked, "Are all of your senior officers staying on?"

"All except for Commander Worf," Picard said, but he was not so easily deterred. "You're not planning on going with Ambassador Spock, are you?"

Agan, Kirk could only smile. "Mr. Worf's transferring?"

"No, he decided he needed some leave for personal reasons.”

Kirk nodded. “Spock mentioned that Mr. Worf has a son.”

“He does. And it’s not easy being a Klingon and a Starfleet officer.” Picard turned the topic back to Kirk - “What are you planning on doing next?”

“I’m not sure,” Kirk admitted with a sigh. “I’m actually considering returning to Starfleet,” he said, as though it was a crazy idea.

“As a captain?” Picard confirmed.

Kirk answered with a wry grin, “I wouldn’t let them promote me.” But he quickly turned serious. “I don’t know. I know you won’t believe me if I say I’m too old, but it feels like I’m pushing my luck.”

“If you volunteer, I can promise you no one will turn you away. Starfleet needs captains a lot more than it needs admirals right now.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What does Ambassador Spock think?” Picard asked a little reluctantly.

“Everyone thinks I should accept any captaincy I can get. I’m the only one who isn’t so sure.”

“It’s hard to argue with that.”

“They’re starting to convince me.” Kirk hesitated. ”But last time I was in command it didn’t go too well...” he trailed off.

“You can’t know what will happen until you try,” Picard suggested.

“You’re right.” After a moment’s pause, Kirk asked, “What would you do if you weren’t captain of the Enterprise?”

“Me?” Picard asked. “I don’t know. One day I suppose they’ll promote me, or I’ll have to retire, but that still feels a long ways off. I don’t really belong back on Earth, tending the old family vineyard. I considered joining the Atlantis project after everything with the Borg, but my heart wasn’t really in it.” He turned the question back on Kirk - “What else would you do?”

Kirk shrugged. “I tried teaching at the academy a little after I retired. I could follow Spock into enemy territory or pick up a shuttlecraft like Scotty.”

Picard looked unconvinced.

“None of them really compare, do they?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Picard replied.

“You think they’d give me an exploratory mission?”

“If you asked for it, they might even give you the Enterprise-E, though I would prefer if you didn’t ask for it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kirk said with a mischievous grin.

Jim stood on an outcropping overlooking the green, forested hills, dotted with light brown patches of dried out grasses. He could see the winding path that he and Spock had taken up to the low peak. It was good to get out of the city. At least out in the wilderness, they were free from prying eyes and curious reporters.

They had mostly hiked in silence, occasionally communicating through the bond, but Jim had largely been left to his own thoughts. He could feel Spock’s curiosity and concern, but he was willing to watch and wait, ready to intercede only if Jim needed it.

Jim beckoned Spock onto the outcropping, to share in the view and Spock obliged even though he could see it clearly enough through the bond. Jim snuck an arm around Spock’s waist and they stood there in silence a little longer, just enjoying the view. Despite his heavy coat, it was a little chilly for an aging Vulcan out in the open with a steady breeze, but Spock didn’t mind so much as Jim leaned into his side.

Finally, Jim shot Spock a wry smile. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him in feigned innocence.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you to Romulus?” Jim asked one last time, even though he very well knew the answer.

“Frankly, it would be a waste of material,” Spock replied with a trace of a smile of his own.

Jim sighed, though he appreciated the compliment. Even if he went to Romulus, if something happened, there wasn’t anything he could do.

Spock met Jim’s eyes. “The last thing I want to do is to prevent you from living.”

“I know,” Jim said. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I you,” Spock said.

Jim leaned in to kiss Spock on the lips at the same time as Spock reached out with his first two fingers. Their lips and fingertips pressed together simultaneously in a soft, warm embrace.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Kirk announced. “I’d like to reactivate my commission - with a few conditions.”

“That’s great,” the admiral exclaimed. “I know you’re used to commanding the Enterprise, but-”

Kirk cut her off with a wave. “The Enterprise belongs to Captain Picard. I just want a ship and a star to steer her by.”

“The Constitution is almost done being refitted, I can arrange a tour immediately.”

“My only conditions are that I want an exploratory mission, as far from Starfleet Command as possible, and I won’t accept any promotions.”

“We can work with that,” the admiral said.

She held out a hand for him to shake and he took it.

“A toast,” Bones declared, holding up his glass, “to cheating death.”

The others raised their glasses with a cheer and clinked them together.

“It is highly improbable,” Spock remarked with a fond glance at Jim.

Scotty clapped Jim on the back. “If anyone could do it, we could.”

“We all had to become miracle workers to put up with your crazy plans,” Bones added.

“I hope the new crew is up to it,” Jim said.

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Bones cautioned. He turned to Scotty - “You decided you’ve finally had enough?”

“I was ready to retire then, I’m still ready now,” Scotty said. “It’ll take a younger person than me to keep up with Captain Kirk. You’re happy to be back on the ground?”

“I’ve had more than my share of outer space, thank you very much,” Bones said. “I must have been mad to stay out there as long as I did.” He rounded on Spock - “You’re really going back to your fool’s errand on Romulus?”

“I intend to return to Romulus,” Spock replied, careful not to confirm the rest of Bones’s statement.

Bones just shook his head.

“What are you doing on Romulus? I thought for sure you would have stayed on as first officer,” Scotty exclaimed.

“I have my own mission, educating the people of Romulus in Vulcan philosophy so that one day the two societies can be reunited,” Spock explained.

“Good luck,” Scotty said. “It sounds like you’ll need all the luck you can get.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott.”

Scotty leaned back in his chair and remarked, “After peace with the Klingons, peace with the Romulans suddenly doesn’t sound so far-fetched.”

“We’ll all have to band together to handle the Borg,” Jim added.

Scotty shook his head. “Somehow it seems like it was all simpler when we were just at war with the Klingons, but maybe that’s just the nostalgia speaking.”

“It wasn’t simple then and it isn’t now,” Bones retorted.

“A very efficient appraisal of the situation,” Spock intoned. “For a doctor, your understanding of galactic affairs is remarkable.”

“Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I don’t have ears,” Bones snapped.

“Gentlemen,” Jim interrupted with a smile, “Can you agree with each other without turning it into an argument?”

“What will you do with a ship full of obedient young officers?” Scotty put in. “You’re liable to get bored.”

“Yes,” Jim said, “I’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” Without thinking, he glanced over at Spock and met his eyes. They would be apart for a long time, but the galaxy was waiting for them, and they would never truly be alone.

 Captain Kirk sat in the center of the bridge. The new chairs leaned back too far, so he perched on the edge of his seat, watching the stationary stars on the viewscreen ahead. On his right was his ambitious young first officer, and on his left was the ship’s counselor. Around him, officers hurried to and fro, preparing the ship for launch. They all looked so young, fresh out of the academy. He could hardly imagine they were ready for a mission, even their first.

We were younger, Spock remarked over their bond. For an instant, Jim glimpsed the interior of an underground cavern, no doubt on Romulus.

Kirk just shook his head in disbelief.

“Starfleet Command says we’re clear to launch,” the communications officer reported from the terminal just above the captain's chair.

“Good,” Kirk said. “Helm, take us out of here, slow and steady until we’re out of the solar system.”

They gradually pulled away from planet Earth, past the moon and the reddish sphere of Mars, and then they turned up, peeling away from the asteroid belt. They got a final glimpse of the sun before rocketing off, toward the stars.

 Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the USS Constitution, on its continuing mission to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, and boldly go where no one has gone before!

Note: I want to thank everyone who made it all the way to the end! This story has been on my mind for a long time, and I hope you enjoyed the final result as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It’s been an incredible one and a half years of practically non-stop Star Trek. I have a few shorter stories waiting to be posted and I’m really excited about the longer story I’m working on for this year’s T’hy’la Bang that will come out in June! However, otherwise, my thoughts have largely turned to my other loves; Sherlock Holmes and a new addition, Jeeves and Wooster.

I don’t want to stop writing Kirk and Spock, but to keep it up, I need your help: if there’s anything you want me to write, send me a prompt! It can be anything from a specific scenario, to a song that makes you think of them, or even just a word, and I’ll write a short fic. (The only rule is, as usual, no sex.)

As always, thank you all very much for reading!

[hahanoiwont]

Anon asked a pizza bard question (continued from last post):

68. The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe? That would be Andale, elven warlock and fantasy 17 year old; and Aryll, pizza bard’s friend from before the party formed. We switch seating sometimes, so Mendax the halfling pirate might also be involved.

Of the three of them, he’d absolutely believe Aryll. She’s very honest, a quality that pizza bard appreciates, and the two of them have a great rapport. She’s the character that demanded an apology after Andale threw a dagger at him jokingly that accidentally ended in him going into death saves (because he had a whole 9 hp left). She’s not afraid to stop the mission to just talk with him as two good friends. She’s his friend before she’s his party member. If she and anyone else are both earnestly trying their best to convince him that something is true, he trusts her first. At the very least, he trusts that if she is lying, she believes that it’s in his best interest and not just hers.

Between Andale and Mendax, Mendax is more likely to lie generally, but he doesn’t often lie to party members, and only then to keep them from getting themselves killed or ending the world. Andale is a fantasy 17 year old and somewhat more prone to lying to protect her pride, but wouldn’t lie about something important to him. Both of them might lie to him about something that’s just going to upset him--the whole party is under the (not entirely inaccurate) impression that he hates the fae, so the might keep fae involvement from him if they needed to.

He would probably believe that they’re each using elements of the truth, and if he didn’t detect any deception from either or them, he’d take Mendax’s account. He would believe that Andale is saying what she believes, and he would keep an eye out for things that would validate her story, but he would assume (cautiously) that Mendax has a better grasp of what’s going on, and try to reconcile the two while he uses Mendax’s information more actively.

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

The Despair of Deception

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cGyO18D

by my_haunting_nightmares

After Bierce's last guest disappointed her by dying of sheer stupidity, she was in search of a new soul to collect the pieces of her ring.

And, in her search, she happened to find two, both apt in their own fields, and both recently deceased. Perfect for what she had in store.

-

And, they were tied to each other in ways they had long since forgotten.

-

Hopefully, these two "Ultimate"s will last a bit longer than the rest...

 (This is a very self-indulgent fic, so I apologize if anything seems rushed or inaccurate, especially regarding mental health and trauma, please reach out to me if I get something wrong, I appreciate the feedback!)

Words: 461, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Danganronpa: Despair Time, Danganronpa Despair Time, Dangan Ronpa Series, Dark Deception (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: Gen

Characters: Xander Matthews, Min Jeung, Bierce (Dark Deception), More to be added later

Relationships: Xander Matthews & Min Jeung, Min Jeung & Bierce (Dark Deception), Xander Matthews & Bierce (Dark Deception)

Additional Tags: Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, Crossover, the self-indulgence here is off the charts, MAJOR DR:DT SPOILERS, Major Character Undeath, ish, they're still dead but like, Internal Monologue, Psychological Trauma, Repressed Memories, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Amnesia, Uneasy Allies, No beta we die like me when playing dark deception (often), Action/Suspense

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/cGyO18D

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

Fanfic: The Assault on SeaWorld

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and it’s associated characters are the property of Rick Riordan, Aquaman and associated characters are the property of DC Comics, and Moana and the Little Mermaid are the property of Disney.

A/N: I honestly… don’t know. I don’t know. I just thought “wouldn’t it be cool if Percy, Aquaman and Moana met”, and suddenly they’re invading SeaWorld!

Pairings: Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Arthur Curry/Mera, and Moana Waialiki/Ariel

TW for: … animal cruelty, I guess. And possibly humorous and potentially inaccurate references to bureaucracy (you���ll see.)

The Daughter of Athena and the Queen of Atlantis stopped in the corridors of the cheap motel, looking at one another. There was a moment’s silence.

“So,” Annabeth Chase exclaimed brightly. “If you’re here…”

Mera nodded. “And you’re here…”

A faint breeze drifted past both of them.

“And Ariel’s here.” Mera nodded.

“Then that could only mean…”

“Trouble.” They both announced together, throwing open the door to Annabeth and Percy’s room.

Percy Jackson, Arthur Curry and Moana Waialiki looked up, the former two with expressions of deep set guilt on their face as they attempted to hide several sheets of paper.

“Mera!” Arthur exclaimed brightly, throwing up his arms. “What a surprise!”

Mera looked unimpressed. “The Council informed me you had cancelled a meet. Again.”

Arthur looked embarrassed. “This was for a good cause!”

“Another child’s birthday party?”

“Not… exactly.”

Annabeth, meanwhile, was edging against Percy, attempting to get at the paper.

“What are you hiding, Seaweed Brain?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

Percy, in lieu of embarrassed innocence, tried a more offensive approach.

“What makes you think I’m hiding anything, Wise Girl?” he said, mimicking Annabeth’s pose.

Both their attempts at deflection were ruined as a sudden gust of wind blew the sheets in front of Annabeth and Mera. Moana scowled into the middle distance.

“Traitor.” she muttered. A cold chill blew across her face in apology.

“Percy…” Annabeth muttered.

“Arthur…” Mera sighed.

“What?” the two beleaguered parties said.

“Why do you have blueprints to every single SeaWorld theme park?” Annabeth said, eyebrow lifting.

The two male rulers of the sea contemplated their situation for a moment, until their female colleague saved them.

“We’re planning a mass breakout.” Moana explained nonchalantly.

“Moana!” both King and Prince cried.

“What? We are.”

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to just say it!” Percy protested.

“Why not? Unlike you, I can’t be shamed. The most Ariel can do is try to suffocate me.”

Another warning shift in the air signalled that Ariel hadn’t ruled that out yet.

“Percy, you can’t just break into SeaWorld!” Annabeth sighed.

“Watch me!” Percy cried in pure reflex.

“Arthur…” Mera sighed as well, and the two women shared a long-suffering look.

“I’m not apologizing.” Arthur ruled out, just to get ahead of the game.

“What did you promise about the mass liberation of sea life at the United Nations? Hmm?”

“That I wouldn’t unless they were Atlantean citizens.” Arthur exclaimed brightly, taking out a piece of Atlantean parchment, with the King’s Seal on it. “Which, as of five days ago, every fish at SeaWorld is.”

Mera scanned the document. “There’s no way you could… I mean they’re the property of SeaW-” her head shot up. “EVERY SINGLE DOLPHIN IN THE OCEAN?”

“Yes…” Arthur said, looking embarrassed again. “I’m, ah, I’m honestly not sure how I got the Council’s approval on that. I think I’m growing on them.”

“Like a mollusc,” Moana muttered before returning to her whispered conversation with the invisible spirit of air formerly known as Ariel.

“What was that?” Arthur said sharply.

“Nothing.”

“Never mind the Council…” Mera said, looking up at him again. “This has the signature of all fifteen judges of the International Court of Justice. How did you get them to sign off on this?”

“Well…” Arthur looked more sheepish than before.

“Arthur.” Mera warned.

“There may have been some… slight deception on my part.”

“Oh gods.” Annabeth groaned, putting aside her ongoing battle of wills with Percy to listen.

“Go on…” Mera drawled.

“Well, I did cover all the articles of the bill… but before that point I talked at length about that nice mute girl from the Ninth Tride, you know the one? We couldn’t find any birth records, and she’s not officially a citizen of Atlantis, so we called her-”

“Dolphin.” Mera sighed. “And so when you said ‘Every dolphin should be given citizens rights’, they assumed…”

“He was talking about a mute girl from Atlantis’ undercity, and not the species.” Annabeth finished. Say what you will about the Currys, she thought, at least it’s never boring with them. And speaking of not boring…

“All that aside, you can’t just… break into SeaWorld and steal all their fish!”

“But we came so far!” Percy protested.

“We got the plans and everything!” Moana chimed in.

That brought up an interesting point.

“How did you get all these plans, anyway?” Annabeth asked.

“Maui.” All three water demigods chimed in.

“Maui… helped you plan a SeaWorld heist.” Mera stated.

Moana snorted. “Maui changes into fish. He’s as invested in this as all three of us.”

“We drew up a plan!” Percy explained. “We thought like you would, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Flattery.” she began accusingly. “Will not get you anywhere.”

Moana looked at the space where Ariel wasn’t, then back to Annabeth, a gleam in her eye.

“Then… what about bribery?”

Annabeth looked apprehensive. “What kind of… bribery?”

“Weeellll.” Moana smirked. “You want to get in well with Percy’s dad, don’t you?”

There was a brief pause.

“Alright.” Annabeth said, sitting on the bed next to Percy and briefly fighting over pillows. “What have you got to start?”