#so close yet so far i have no tickets I wasn't blessed with the knowledge 😔

[ncityzen]

girls I've accidentally stumbled upon a seventeen concert this is not a joke

[fumiko-matsubara]

Writing Exercise // AssClass x Tower of God AU - Catching Up

Assassination Classroom - Tower of God AU

Summary: There was a sudden change in team line up and so Nakamura decided to make a call with someone who is floors away.

Word Count: 1,791 words

• ▪ • ▪ •

"Huh? Asano-kun joined your team?"

Nakamura hummed in reply, her eyes focused on the screen before her, going through the video recordings she had captured earlier during the previous floor test using one of her lighthouses in hopes of finding anything she could use in the near future. "He and that Sakakibara guy apparently got separated from the rest of their teammates during the previous test."

From the other line, Chiba let out a noise of mild disbelief, which Nakamura couldn't blame him for. For an E-rank Regular, Asano Gakushuu had proved himself to be quite the gifted Light Bearer countless of times that just the mere idea of him being separated from his teammates because of a floor test, with how organized and strong the Asano kid had made his nearly perfect team to be as their leader and strategist, is almost laughable.

But considering that the 28th Floor had nearly caused their own team to lose members for good, only having members to be separated seemed more like a blessing than a misfortune.

Nakamura shuddered at the memory.

"Surprisingly, it was them who first approached us when we arrived at the 29th floor," she mused. "Well... the Asano kid to be exact."

"Seems smart on his part, I suppose," Nakamura suddenly heard doors opening on the other line. She assumed that Chiba must have been taking a night walk when he had received her call, as it was currently evening to where she is right now. "I've heard that you guys were the only team to pass the 28th floor for this wave of Regulars... so I guess it's a no-brainer for that guy."

Nakamura swore she could almost see Chiba shrugging his shoulders just as he said those words.

"It's been days since they've joined, you said? No troubles with them so far?"

"Not at all. They've been surprisingly civil with all of us the past few days." Though there was a voice at the back of Nakamura's mind telling her that it was likely because a certain redheaded Light Bearer wasn't around to provoke the Asano. "They even sometimes help nurse some of the others who are still on bed rest."

Chiba chuckled at the other line. "Well isn't that a sight to see?"

Nakamura had discretely installed lighthouses as if they were security cameras at each room of the rather large apartment they had been sharing since their arrival on the 21st floor. It would only take few clicks on her main lighthouse to retrieve the saved recordings of Asano fussing over their injured teamates as he nurses them.

Snickering, she made a mental note to send some of them to Chiba after she's done with her current work.

"Also we definitely appreciate having a rear-type Light Bearer and a Wave Controller since, you know?" Nakamura fought the urge to roll her eyes. "The only ones we had are now floors behind us after stopping their climb to compete at the Workshop Battle?"

Chiba somewhat hissed at that. "I guess that explains why Karma seems to be in a bad mood when we called last month..."

"Yeah, we weren't in agreement that time," Nakamura sighed deeply, closing the tabs and turning off her lighthouse. She supposed it can wait tomorrow.

"I get why."

If Nakamura was being honest, it wasn't the fact that Group 4 joined the Workshop Battle that got the whole team in disagreement. It was the fact that Group 4 have already been planning to compete since they had become E-ranked and yet had never once told the rest of the team until the day they had to claim tickets to join.

Karma may be Team END's key strategist, but the redheaded Light Bearer still had the infuriating habit of strategizing and implementing plans without consulting with the rest of the team, sometimes even executing said plans on his own without anyone's help nor even knowledge.

Nakamura supposed that it was because Karma had initially been trained as a Fisherman before switching to a Light Bearer, but that can't be an excuse anymore since he had over 8 years to break out of that frontliner habit.

It's annoying, really.

Even when Group 4 had won the Workshop Battle with a powerful weapon as their winning prize, it still left a bitter taste on her mouth.

Nakamura hoped that this will be the last time Karma involves their other teammates into his lone wolf shenanigans. They can't afford to be separated much longer the higher they climb the tower.

Not when they still have yet to close the gap to catch up with Chiba and his team like they have promised.

"How are things at your end?" Nakamura asked, wanting to change the topic.

Chiba let out an exhausted sigh. "A bit too fast, I guess. Especially since Kaho's been antsy the past few months."

"Oh?" Nakamura picked up the nearly forgotten tea on the table next to her, prepared by Hara. "What gives?"

Nakamura barely had any recollection of what Tsuchiya is like in personality, as the last time they had personally met was when they were still fairly new to the tower, during the Floor of Tests, which was already about a decade ago. But from the few times that Chiba had mentioned the Light Bearer in their talks, Tsuchiya seems to be a quick thinker who strategizes and improvises well under pressure, especially during battles.

Perhaps that's why Team DREAM had been ridiculously quick with their climb, Nakamura mused.

Well, aside from the fact that they have an insanely solid team line up.

"I'm not entirely sure as we weren't around when it happened but..." There was a slight hesitation in Chiba's tone as he trailed off. "Ever since we saw her with a girl that I believe was from the Harukawa Family, based from her hair and eye colour, she's been like that for some reason."

A Harukawa huh...

Nakamura wasn't exactly the most interested in the Ten Great Families, let alone their relations with each other. But she was at least aware of the common knowledge about the tension between the Tsuchiya and the Harukawa, seemingly started by the Head of the two families themselves.

Could it be rivalry? Mortal Enemies? Nobody knows. But one thing's for sure was that a Tsuchiya and a Harukawa, whether they are direct descendants of the family Heads or not, do NOT get along.

Which is ironic considering that what the two Great families are known for made it seem like they would be a perfect team - The Tsuchiya Family known for their Defenders and the Harukawa Family for their immense talent in Spear Bearing.

But Nakamura supposed that the Tsuchiya daughter already had Chiba for that, who is a talented Spear Bearer himself.

"I mean both families don't get along anyways," Chiba remarked, echoing Nakamura's thoughts. "But it seemed like they personally knew each other beforehand from the way Kaho talked about that Harukawa girl. They probably met during the Floor of Tests... or even before they got called into the tower. Who knows."

Nakamura had never looked so amused. "Childhood rivals?" She snickered.

Chiba chuckled at the other line. "Perhaps."

"So what happens now?"

"Uh well..." Nakamura could hear some rustling from Chiba's side of the call and she swore she just heard faint screeching right after. The sudden noises concerned her a little, so she asked, "Chiba?"

"Nothing. That was Eiji, probably ate something spicy again," Chiba sounded very unamused and deadpan as he said that. Nakamura could faintly hear arguing at a distance if she listened more carefully. "Anyways, Kaho had a burn out. That's one thing."

"It took that to stop her huh," Nakamura replied with a huff. "How many floors have you guys cleared then?"

"Five in 3 months."

What the fuck.

Nakamura's jaw hung wide open when the words had registered in her mind. A normal team would take at least a year to complete 3-4 floors, nevermind five. This is ridiculous. This team is ridiculous. "Geez... and you guys still managed to keep up with her plans and all..."

"To be fair though, the previous floors have been relatively easy," Chiba waved her off nonchalantly. "I would even say that the 20th Floor was much difficult than these five."

Nakamura sighed, leaning back to her chair. Considering it took Team END a whole year to complete the 20th Floor after numerous fails, she supposed she could believe the Spear Bearer's words this time. "Say, how many of you all are from the Ten Families?"

There was a short pause at the other side. "Well there's Kaho of course, then Miki, Daisuke, Miho, Jungyoon, and then me..." he counted.

If Nakamura was smiling right now, she was sure it would have tightened uncomfortably.

It had always slipped from her mind that Chiba himself is a Ten Great Family member despite not being a direct descendant of the family Head, the family tree he's in known for their Water Users, which Chiba had utilized to form his own spears.

But nevermind that. Team DREAM had 6 members from the Great Families? No wonder they're climbing at an incredibly fast pace.

Chiba really found himself a formidable team after he had gotten separated from Team END.

"But even then, only Miki is a direct descendant. The rest of us are too unimportant to be actually feared of as a whole..." Chiba laughed sheepishly. "Well except for our family names of course."

Nakamura would beg to differ.

"Anyways, we're at the 46th floor right now," He continued the previous topic before Nakamura had made that short intermission. "But we'll be taking an indefinite break until all of us had recovered enough to continue our climb again." He informed.

Knowing where he was getting at, Nakamura sighed for the umpteenth time. Unamused, she replied, "So you want us to catch up quickly while you all are basically dormant then, is that right?"

Shit. There is no way they could clear 17 floors before the monster team springs back into action.

Nakamura could feel the cheeky grin that Chiba must be wearing right now.

"Well you have a direct descendant from the Asano family with you now, right?" His tone sounded almost challenging when he said that. "Should be easy enough."

"You can be really annoying sometimes, Ryuunosuke." Nakamura glared at the visible Pocket floating in front of her, as if she can somehow magically transfer a sort of attack towards the other line. It didn't help that there were chuckles coming out of the mechanical sphere.

"Well, what can I say? I learned from the best."

Maybe she shouldn't have teamed up with him and Maehara at the 2nd Floor.

[docholligay]

Pharmercy, time between first and second OW. They can't spend it together this year because of work or some other reason. Maybe Angela wasn't too bothered by it until she talked to Winston or Lena. I would love a more melancholy feel to it, but you do what you want.

HI DO YOU WANT MORE THAN 2,000 WORDS ABOUT PHARAH AND MERCY’S FIRST VALENTINE’S YOU SURE DO. If you’re unfamiliar with my OW universe, it’s all here.  I may add this in, I may not, WE SHALL SEE

Mercy had spent a good many of her Valentine’s Days alone, and it had never much mattered. She was too busy for relationships, always too young for anyone in her classes to take notice of her, and spent so much time learning the in and outs of the human body when she was young that she did not quite begin to notice that she needed some instruction in human social skills until she was in her twenties, possessed of great empathy but little practical knowledge, feeling awkward and odd among her peers.

And so it should not have bothered her, who dated so little, to spend Valentine’s Day alone. It was no different from any other. And yet, as she crossed Harvard Yard, fresh from a special lecture, the red brick of the buildings seemed to reflect every beating cartoon heart she had seen on the cards lining the drugstore where she got her shampoo. She noticed every student’s hard that was clasped in another’s, noticed their smiles and giggles and the words that passed between them, even the most common of them peppered with the special lilt of a word from a lover’s lips.

And in instead of bringing her joy, it brought her an empty ache.

Because she was lying, of course, and this Valentine’s was very different from any other before it.

This Valentine’s Day, she was missing Fareeha Amari.

She chided herself. She was lucky, blessed even, to have a woman like Pharah in her life, someone who was handsome and intelligent and gallant, who listened so closely and carefully when Mercy talked that Mercy swore she was taking notes, who brought her flowers and held her coat over Mercy’s head in the rain, the kind of woman Mercy had never assumed was even real, but laid next to her in her tiny Cambridge apartment whenever Tracer flew over.

She hadn’t had the courage to tell Pharah she had given Tracer a not-insignificant amount of money for fuel.

“I am knowing that you do not have so much money, Lena, and I thought–”

Tracer waggled her eyebrows. “It me you’re so anxious to see then, love? Missing me something terrible, you are, can’t ‘ave anything to do with–”

Mercy blushed and shoved the check at her and mumbled uncomfortably, turning away from Tracer.

Tracer’s face softened. ‘I’s only ‘aving a go, Ang, you know ‘ow I am. I’ll say nothing more about it.”

And, to Tracer’s credit, she had not. Oh, Mercy was certain she’d told Winston the day it happened–Mercy wasn’t even sure she was capable of keeping a secret from him, but Winston was very kind, and would never mention such a thing.

With all these blessings in her life: A job where she was respected, a girlfriend who loved her, a rekindled relationship with her friends, it seemed very petty and selfish indeed to be sad that Pharah couldn’t be here.

And she had wanted to be, hadn’t she? Mercy considered as she sat on the train. Yes, she had to work for Helix, and she had been so apologetic, and besides any of that, Tracer wasn’t making a trip, so Pharah would have had to buy her own plane ticket, and that would have been very silly for one insignificant day on the calendar that said nothing about their love. She had told Pharah it meant nothing, that she would see her soon, and she understood how important Helix’s work was.

But it would have been their first, and Mercy looked over at the couple across from her, canoodling, and wished that she was here, wishing she could take Pharah to the restaurant she’d been saving for this day, the fine food and romantic low light.

She got off the train and wandered back to her apartment, stopping at her favorite Chinese place along the way for a giant carton of noodles and a bottle of wine, procured at the liquor store, trying to ignore the red cellophane wrapping of the champagne bottles.

Mercy had spent the bulk of her life alone, and yet she had rarely ever felt as lonely as she did right in this moment. Loneliness, she thought, was not so much in being alone but in knowing the shape of the hole inside you, and not being able to fill it.

She unlocked the small door at the back of the house, divided into an apartment  long ago. She had never thought of her apartment as sad, though it was a small afterthought to the rest of the house–one tiny bedroom, a scattered closet here and there, a little alcove that functioned as a kitchen, inasmuch as Mercy ever needed one. Windows that skirted the line of legality brought faint strains of rapidly fading light into the living room, with her mismatched furniture all purchased from Craigslist the week she moved in looking shabby in the long grey shadows.

Mercy shook her head. She was being childish. She was a grown woman, a doctor, a professor at Harvard Medical, for God’s sake, and here she was, pining over her girlfriend because of some words on a calendar. If she was lonely, she should do something to make herself less lonely. Mercy determined her own future, didn’t she? Winston would be alone, too, with Tracer not visiting, and maybe she would take her bottle of wine and her noodles and head over there, or they could order a pizza. She had a fascinating new journal to show him, and she had an idea for an article for them to collaborate on, the biological and technological effects of being unpinned from time. They’d have to ask Tracer’s permission, of course, there would be no way of keeping her anonymous, but Tracer was generally very good-natured about her condition–Yes, Mercy thought, I’ll do that.

She dialed Winston on the video phone, looking at the cool grey of the wait screen, the alert ringing again and again, until Winston’s face popped onscreen.

“Hello, this is Dr. Winston–”

“Winston! I think we are both fin–”

“I will be in London, England, from February 12th to February–”

Mercy shut off the phone. Of course he was in London. If Tracer didn’t come to him, he would go to her.

But if Helix had to work, why is Lena not working? Maybe it’s just that Fareeha was not interested in coming to be with you. That’s all.

The thought haunted Mercy. Maybe Pharah was tired of her, maybe she was tired of the distance, maybe being with Mercy was just too much work. Pharah was so wonderful, Mercy could only imagine that it would be nothing for her to find someone else, someone beautiful and witty and not the kind of person who sat alone in her apartment with a book and a box of noodles.

She changed in the living room, not even caring that she was just tossing her clothes to the side, and threw on her slouchy t-shirt from her staff orientation and a pair of flannel pants, sweeping her hair into a messy topknot as she plopped into her favorite chair, worn and ugly and terribly comfortable.

Pharah didn’t want to spend it with her. Why would she, Pharah was so collected and together and Valentine’s Day was so silly and so fake and Pharah was beyond all of that. It was foolish of her to have been dreaming of a candlelit dinner, of flowers and a box of chocolates and all those trappings that Pharah would have been much too practical for.

She burned with shame, remembering the flowery and goopy card she had sent Pharah, imagining how childish she would find it, how she would look at the scarf Mercy had knit while watching a lecture series from Zurich and wonder if she were dating a 12 year old.

“ANG!” Tracer’s voice burst through the living room as the video phone lit up, “ANGIIIIEEEEEEEE ZIEGLEEERRRRR!”

Tracer must be having a very festive Valentine’s Day.

She thought about rejecting the call, about sticking to her noodles and her book.

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, LOVE!”

“Lena, you don’t know that.” Winston’s measured rumbling softness came over the speaker.

“I do, though. Where the bloody ‘ell else would she be, WIn, she doesn’t properly go anywh–oh God she can ‘ear me, I LOVE YOU ANG!”

Mercy laughed, in spite of herself, and for a moment she felt the gloom lift as she hit the accept button across the room.

Tracer scowled at Winston. “I TOLD you,” she grinned brightly and waved, nearly knocking over her drink in the process. “Hi Ang!!! ‘Appy Valentine’s Day!” She gave Winston a hug, and Mercy felt the sad melancholy of loneliness return.

Tracer and Winston would never, as long as the other was alive, truly know what it was to be lonely. They would always love each other, they would always have each other, they would always have a Valentine, even if it was a Palentine.

They would never know what it was to be her. She was lucky enough they thought to call.

Tracer rubbed the corduroy of her pants and smiled happily. “Been out and about tonight, a bit, though all we ended up coming ‘ome with was each other,” she laughed brightly and ran her hand through her hair, rocking back on the edge of the couch a little too far, Winston placing a hand behind her back and pushing her up, “Think I’m a bit pissed, truth be known.”

Winston chuckled. “It’s a possibility.”

Tracer laughed again, barreling into Winston’s shoulder and bouncing back just as quickly, delighted with the mere fact of her own existence in this moment.

It would be catching, if it didn’t remind Mercy of how quiet and still her own apartment was.

“Any’ow, just wanted to say, ‘ello, and wish you well, didn’t mean to bother you, I mean, I did, I rang you, but only for a bit, I don’t think that’s too much–”

“Lena.” Winston shook his head.

“Wait,” Mercy looked at the two of them, “Lena, if you would not mind…”

Tracer’s face grew serious. “What is it, love?”

“Why did you not have to work? For Helix? Fareeha…” She shrugged.

Tracer jumped forward, nearly shoving the camera in the process. “Oh Ang, I don’t properly work for ‘elix, I’m a…consultant, rather, is all, you must ‘ave a bit of faith in Fareeha, she’s a commander and all that, she gets all the bleeding knobs in ‘er office morning, noon and night, doesn’t she? Don’t feel as if, you know in fact—” she considered a moment. “Trust ‘er, is all. We ought to be off, Ang. Don’t fret about it.”

Mercy nodded. “Of course. Happy Valentine’s Day, to you both.”

They waved her goodbye, and the room was quiet once more, filled with the sounds of nothing and no one, and Mercy popped open the bottle of wine, pouring it into a mug declaring her to be ‘#1 Doctor’ and sipping it as her perched in her chair. She wasn’t even interested in the noodles anymore.Tracer was many things, but she was not given to lie, and if she thought Pharah was trustworthy on this, she must reasonably believe it was true.

But Tracer also had a tendency to believe the best of people, even if it wasn’t quite deserved.

She barely read her book, sitting and thinking and trying not to think, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been when the video phone rang again.

Pharah.

A sudden panic ran through her, as she looked down at her sloppy t-shirt, that she had also managed to get a spot of red wine on, and felt up at the unkempt topknot on her head. She thought about dashing to the bedroom, putting on something more attractive, but then she would miss Pharah’s call. She froze in panic, not knowing what to do, until, quite against her own will, she hit the accept button.

“Angela.” Pharah sat at a table, candles lit in front of her, a linen cloth and a bouquet out in front of her, and there was a knock at the door.

“I–”

“No, please. Go answer.” She motioned gently.

Mercy got up and walked to the door, not knowing what to expect, only to find a man holding a bag out in front of him.

“Dr. Angela Ziegler?” He looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe it.

She nodded wordlessly, and he put the bag into her hands. “It’s paid for. You have a nice night, ma’am.”

She closed the door behind her, and went back into the living room where Pharah waited on the screen. Mercy allowed herself a moment to really look at her. It must be 3 am in Egypt, but her hair was smooth and styled, a blue suit jacket on over a black button up shirt, looking for all the world as if she was not as tired as she must be.

And wearing Mercy’s handknit scarf. 

Pharah nodded. “I hope you will excuse the presumption of ordering for you.” She fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “I wished for this to be a surprise. I wished–I wished to have dinner, with you, for Valentine’s Day.”

Mercy took the meal out of the bag, a lovely pasta dish very much like the things Mercy ordered every time they went out together, because of course she knew. Of course she paid attention.

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I am sorry I look such–”

“You are beautiful as you are. You are,” she nodded, looking at Mercy, “Always beautiful.”

“Fareeha…”

“I will give you a better Valentine’s, someday. This is my promise to you.” 

Mercy shook her head. “This is the best Valentine’s I will have ever had.” She gave a tearful laugh. “I have been wanting to tell you the silliest story, about Tracer, and how she is able to be coming over so often. You will laugh at me.” 

Pharah leaned in, listening intently, and Mercy felt the ghosts of loneliness dissipate into the night, the light of a streetlight piercing through the dark.