#they are so ‘‘I’m coming down with you hand in unlovable hand’’ coded

[vodika-vibes]

I love your writing. It always leaves me feeling hopeful.

Could you write a story where f!reader doesn't like her body.

I personally dislike my body. My breasts are small and disproportionate, then my butt is flattish. Compared to my mom and sisters I feel unlovable. Doesn't help I've never dated or had anyone interested in me and I'm going on 40.

Sorry that was long. Anyway if you could wrote something with either Fox, Wolffe or Hunter that would be lovely.

Thank you.

You're Perfect

Summary: Wolffe gets home late and finds his mesh’la curled up in bed, upset. And he decides that that’s not going to stand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 1027

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: That might be the sweetest compliment I've ever been giving. Making people feel hopeful. Gosh, you're so sweet. I'm sorry that you feel that way about yourself, and I hope this story helps you feel a little bit better!

Wolffe pushes his hand through his short hair in annoyance as he irritably punches in the door code for his apartment. He loves his brothers, he does, but sometimes they are the most irritating di’kut to walk on any planet.

Not to mention, they made him late.

He was supposed to be home over an hour ago.

He had a plan. Dinner and dancing with his perfect mesh’la, something to help her get her mind off the hard week that she’s been having at work.

But no. Now it’s not going to happen. All because Sinker decided to push the Corries and got himself thrown into a holding cell.

He should have let him cool his heels there for the night.

The door slides open and Wolffe pushes into the apartment, only to pause when he notes that none of the lights are on. His gaze flickers to the coat rack, taking note that her favorite jacket and her purse are still hanging there. Not to mention all of her shoes are lined up neatly on the shoe rack.

So she is home. Yet all of the lights are off, and there’s no sound indicating that she’s listening to music or watching a show or playing any of her games-

Slowly, Wolffe sits on the bench to pull off his armor, all of his senses turned towards the apartment, searching for any hint of what’s going on. 

Something is clearly wrong.

Maybe she’s upset that he’s home later than he said he would be? If that’s the case then he’s going to beat Sinker black and blue tomorrow.

He finishes pulling off his armor, and stacks it neatly near the door, and then he heads to the gun safe, and he puts his weapons in it, before shutting and locking the door.

Only then does he head further into the apartment. 

“Mesh’la?”

There’s a sniffle from the bedroom, and Wolffe’s gaze snaps to the closed door. He doesn’t even bother knocking on the door, since it’s his room too, and he peers at the large lump under the blanket.

“Mesh’la? 

“There’s no one here but us bedbugs,” Her voice is shaky, as though she’s been crying. 

Wolffe sighs silently, she’s upset. He’s definitely going to beat Sinker black and blue tomorrow. He sits on the edge of the bed and presses his hand against her back, rubbing soothingly as he feels her trembling under his touch, “I’m sorry I’m late, mesh’la. Sinker got arrested, and-”

Slowly the blanket tugs down so she’s able to peer up at him. Her pretty eyes are rimmed with red, and he feels his heart sink. “Sinker got arrested?”

“Yeah, he picked an argument with Thorn and-” Wolffe sighs, “I’m so sorry that I’m late, I know we had plans. I should have commed…I didn’t mean to make you cry-”

She blinks at him, and then hastily wipes her eyes, though that didn’t help. “I…I’m not crying-”

“You are though.” Wolffe replies gently as he brushes a tear off her cheek.

“Oh.” She pauses, and then she leans into his touch, “Not because of you, or Sinker.”

Quickly, Wolffe reassesses the situation, and his eyes narrow, “Someone upset you to the point of tears.”

“It’s…dumb.”

“If they upset you enough that you came home and cried, it’s obviously not.” Wolffe points out, “Come on, mesh’la. What happened?”

She ducks her head, “It’s just…” She pauses, “Someone said something and-”

“What did they say?” He prods gently.

She seems to curl in on herself, “That I’m not pretty enough to land someone who looks like you. That you’re probably only using me because I’m…I’m easy,” She spits out the word like it’s a curse, “That you don’t really love me-”

Wolffe leans in and kisses her to stop the flood of words. “Well, whoever told you that is clearly jealous of how amazing you are.”

“They-”

“Let’s go over this point by point, shall we?” Wolffe interrupts, “You not being pretty enough for me is nonsense, you’re gorgeous, all of the time. About you being easy-” He makes a face, “If you were easy, mesh’la, it wouldn’t have taken me almost a year to convince you to go on a date with me.”

A flush spreads across her face, and Wolffe grins.

“That was a very long, very miserable year for me, Mesh’la. I can’t believe you spent so long running from me.”

“It made sense, at the time.” She mumbles, and Wolffe presses a light kiss to her forehead.

“As for me not loving you,” Wolffe says, “I spent a year trying to make you even look at me. Is my love for you really in doubt here?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize.” He kisses her forehead again, “I would, however, like to know who exactly made you cry.” She shoots him a look, “I just wanna talk to them. Really.”

“Right. Talk.” She scoffs, “Since when is ‘talk’ a euphemism for ‘beat them senseless’?”

“Since always.” Wolffe replies, he slips under the blanket with her and draws her into a tight hug, “But I’m much more concerned about the fact that you seem to believe them.”

“I…well…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not pretty, Wolffe. Not compared to some of the women that your brothers date. I’m just…bleh.”

“You’re not just bleh.” Wolffe corrects, “And the fact that I haven’t managed to convince you of this yet makes me a terrible boyfriend.” He leans in and kisses her gently. “How can I convince you to see yourself like I see you?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Slowly Wolffe kicks the blanket off the bed and rolls so that she’s laying on top of him, “I have a pretty good idea.” He teases with a wicked grin, “I know exactly how to make you see yourself like how I see you.”

She stares down at him, startled, and then a slightly flustered look crosses her face as correctly identifies the look on his face.

“Ah, you’re so cute and I love you so much.” Wolffe says with a boyish, lovesick, grin on his face. 

Somehow, she looks even more flustered, “I love you too.”

[tartalias]

ROSARIA             /   @executhorn​​  asked:            ❝  i no longer know where i end and you begin.  you’ve wound yourself around my soul so tightly,  you’re all i feel anymore.  ❞

                                      SNOW    PERMEATED    HER    SOUL    long    before    the    vision    did,    childe    thinks.    it    was    only    ever    natural    that    she'd    be    surrounded    by    ice    from    birth    to    death    no    matter    how    far    she    ran,    just    like    he'd    be    surrounded    by    blood.    they    both    came    into    this    world    screaming    and    will    leave    the    same    way.

                     frost    nips    at    his    skin.    he    can    see    it    from    here,    mondstadt,    all    it's    ugly    windmills    and    overgrowth.    dragonspine    is    cold    in    a    different    way    than    zapolyarnyy,    but    it's    as    close    as    he    can    get.    he    thinks    perhaps    the    abyss    and    winter    are    not    so    different.    warmth-leeching.    unloving.    demanding.

                     tongue    runs    along    teeth,    forever    sharp    and    iron-coated,    as    harbinger    waits    patiently.    he    always    does.    waits    to    here    the    soft    crunch    of    her    heels    landing    in    the    snow    beside    him    from    above;    quieter    still    does    she    breathe.    not    quiet    enough.    her    frosty    lance    catches    his    and    now    they're    frozen    together    from    parrying    his    attack    /         he's    always    like    this,    bite    first    bark    second.    defiant    grips,    she    cannot    pull    away    and    neither    can    he,    merging    their    elemental    weapons    together    so    neither    of    them    can    run.    intimacy    in    close    proximity.    foggy    breaths    mix    between    the    crossed    poles,    and    he    leans    closer.    closer.

                       how    long    can    they    stand    there    ?              staring.    watching.    talking    without    talking,    like    they    did    when    they    were    kids.    this    looming    silence    that    was    never    a    burden,    but    freedom,    snowflakes    clinging    to    lashes    that    flutter    with    a    language    only    they    know.    they    had    arranged    this,    after    all,    as    they    always    have    since    they    reunited.    codes    hidden    in    letters    like    they    couldn't    communicate    through    the    traveler,    but    where's    the    fun    in    that   ?

                       finally,    rosaria    speaks,    and    its    grip    nearly    falters.    how    familiar    a    taste.    he    knows    the    feeling    intimately,    feels    it    still.    despite    knowing    better,    he    needs    her    the    same    way    he    has    needed    few    others  (  atienne,   scaramouche,  marceline----do they think about him  ?      ).    stupid,    stupid    thing,    letting    people    in.    but    for    her    its    the    worst,   because    she--------she    has    always    known    him,    like    his    family,    but    she    has    never    flinched    away.    he    has    never    flinched    from    her.    like    two    halves    of    one    whole,    wolves    biting    one    another's    tails    and    continuing    to    starve.

                       snow    in    her    soul    /    or    maybe    it    was    always    him.    if    the    abyss    and    the    winters    are    so    similar,    who    is    to    say    they    are    not    the    same    as    well    ?          always    leeching    her    warmth    until    she    is    bound    to    carry    cold    metal    and    frost.    perhaps    it    infected    her,    or    they    were    born    to    be    this    way.    the    tsaritsa    chose    them    both    for    a    reason.

thunder    cracks    their    weapons    into    pieces,    and    childe    buries    his    fingers    in    her    hair    and    pulls.    buries    them    both    in    the    snow    when    he    pins    her    down,    presses    his    canines    to    the    soft    flesh    of    her    jaw.

                          "           i    haven't    been    able    to    feel    in    years.    i    think    you    stole    that    piece    of    me    when    you    left,    and    one    day    i'm    going    to    carve    it    out    of    you.    "                         moves    hands    to    press    palms    to    her    ribs,    through    corset    boning    he    might    feel    her    ribs.                     "             or    maybe    i    should    take    a    part    of    you.    then    maybe    we'll    be    even.    i    need     you,    rosaria:    you're    the    only    one    who    understands.        "

                 being    a    weapon.    loving    it,    at    your    core.    that    deep    part    of    you    that    was    born    for    it.    ghastly    genes,    permeating    their    organs    and    turning    their    flesh    to    rot.    how    would    ajax    and    rosaria    be    so    good    at    their    jobs    if    they    did    not    love    every    second    of    it    ?

                   no.    it    isn't    about    violence.    it's    about    desperation:    their    visceral    need    to    be    known    and    unknown,    to    be    touched    and    loved    anyway.    turned    away    but    everyone    else,    wanted.    he    smothers    her    because    he    has    to,    he    wants    to,    he    needs    to.    needs    someone    to    experience    him    and    only    him    and    by    the    archons,    if    she    smothers    him    back,    may    he    suffocate    in    her    avalanche    and    die    numb.

kisses    the    snowflakes    in    her    hair,    curling    from    where    they've    melted.    as    close    to    tender    as    they    can    get,    like    this,    afraid.

                                   "    you   could   come    with    me.    "              home.    whatever    that    means.

[tammyhybrid21]

Pebbles a Reflection

Now, this isn’t in the main tags for... personal reasons. So if you’ve somehow come across it be prepared because this is not going to be a light post. It’s both analysis and self-reflection using Pebbles as a “mirror” for real world issues.

Warnings should be obvious but just in case. This post will cover a lot of heavy topics. It will be covering suicidality, depression, disability/chronic illness, abandonment trauma, religious trauma, my thoughts on the deeper meaning of ascension and how it’s presented in Rain World and beyond, what it means to wish for nothingness.

So yeah, to start off with Hi, I’m Hybrid, or Tammy... I’m not in a great place, but I am slowly getting better... And I’m sure I’ve mentioned in another post somewhere... if I found Rain World back when it initially came out, back in 2017 I probably would have related the most to Moon. I still definitely do. I to am an older sibling who is brought low by circumstances, with a younger brother who is... a disaster. But-- but--

It is not 2017. It is 2024, or rather it was 2023 when I finally come around to properly playing and exploring Rain World lore. And I love Moon, she’s still definitely someone I can look at and see myself in reflection, we share flaws, we share burdens and yet-- More than that, I look at Moon and see my own older sister. Someone who was grown when I was just new to the world... It’s 2024 and I am Five Pebbles.

Or well...

I look at him and I get it. So, this will be me talking about it. In the best way I can handle my emotions as a semi well-adjusted Autistic Human Being. Full disclosure, if anyone else relates to my points throughout, you’re doing great. Keep it up, believe in yourself and your ability to thrive. Live on spite alone.

SO, let’s get to it then.

Sibling Dynamics

Let’s get the immediate thing out of the way first.

The Siblings. Whether it is explicitly canon or not they are very much coded to be read as such. Moon calls herself Big Sis Moon, whether that’s honorary or not... it is, what we have.

Moon and Pebbles share a lot. Resources, citizens, a literal connection via the bridge that became the Precipice. They probably share a portion of design template as well... we can’t know entirely. But it’s very much all canon things. The room in Rubicon as well is shared between them.

Whether people like it or not, they’re... basically treated and written like siblings. Siblings with a lifetime age gap. Or... several lifetimes really. Which... explains a lot of why Moon didn’t act to stop Pebbles. It’s not just a matter of her been too soft to, it’s also as much a matter of it been hard to see past that state where Pebbles is baby brother. Hard to remember someone is grown and beyond that when you still remember them when they were so new that they could be held in your arms. As if they were nothing. Also probably a reason she lets go of the anger so much, because again, she’s got a whole other perspective on it. Aside just memory loss.

All this is baked into the tragedy of the story.

...

All this is before you factor in the hand-me-downs aspects as well. Hand-me-down robes, hand-me-down citizens, hand-me-down problems. Pebbles is treated in canon much as the unloved surprise child. Very much in Moon’s shadow as the younger less capable sibling... at least it seems like that’s how it was with the ancients. And for all he says it was something that never bothered him, his actions really, really do speak louder. Can’t blame him for trying to escape the shadow he was cast in... something that was so unfair to them both.

Also I do think that he was LITERALLY cast in Moon’s shadow. It’s hinted but not stated that his structure is to the West of Moon’s... Sunrise in the East. My evidence for this is his own words... and the layout of the map. “Go out West past the Farm Arrays and down...” Also his dialogue to Rivulet if you take his Rarefaction cell first before meeting him. “Take it far to the East to her”

...

I really want to go on a deep dive, but truthfully-- I don’t need to at this point in time. I can save the most of it for later. But these siblings really had things stacked against them in every case truly. It was an unfair situation from the start.

Which back to circle around, I have a very specific reading, some of it because of my own headcanons, some from projection, but a lot from reading between the lines of why that drive for independence is there... As well the “I just want someone to say I did a good job” vibes. And what is this reading... well, I get the sense that at least some of Pebbles actions are driven by a wish to not be a burden.

It circles around, and I will likely come back to this later. But for now, yeah. These siblings are complicated.

Longing For Meaning in...

Death.

Oh boy, this is going to be a mess. So here’s the thing. I have... a lot of complicated thoughts and feelings in general on The Great Problem... how it’s presented and how the characters interact with it and the world. And yes, I’m viewing it through a probably entirely wrong lens because culture, BUT-- Let’s think about the presentation... Inside and out of the game. What continues, what fails. What changed, because here’s the immediate thing.

I’m a fully a believer in the wake up in a new cycle and continuing literally interpretation of the game’s cycle. I’d love to talk at length but all you folks need to know is yes, I believe the respawn in the game is actually canon in Rain World’s lore... 

Sooo that established, what do I think is ascension. Well... death of soul, cessation of being.. at least how it’s presented in Rain World. So why did I start this section off by saying Longing For Meaning In Death... Well--

I’ll be honest. I grew up with the understanding that was death. Death is literally the end, no thoughts, no worries, nothing but the memories that others have left of you. And while for some folks the idea of nonexistence must be terrifying, one of my personal struggles for a long time was how that thought was such a comfort, something appealing... Something that in Rain World the ancients seemed to strive for, viewing it as an escape. That’s how ascension apparently is in Rain World, you cease to be... you become just cosmic dust in the void.

And oh, how Pebbles longs...

...

Which an argument can be made for all the iterators longing. Find the solution, find the answer to ascension for all. That answer is The Saint. But there’s something more with how Pebbles longs. Seeking and searching, and his attempts to bypass that taboo. And oh boy I have a lot of thoughts on that. A lot, lot of thoughts.

But not sure if I can put all those into words easily. Mostly because then I would be kind of telling on myself a lot. It’s the kind of information best kept between me and my psychologist... but at the same time...

The way death verses ascension is presented in Rain World. To ascend is to leave the world behind, become greater than yourself... become something more, often used in mythology and fiction alike to meaning going up, to answer the call to become some form of higher being. Become a God... a Spirit, or ascend to the throne. Etc.

Yet in Rain World it means to leave behind the world and to become part of the great everything. Death of soul, no reincarnation, no more respawns...

...

And oh, the longing for meaning in that. To become nothing, everything... part of the cosmic dust of the universe. To not have the pressure of existing anymore beyond the memories that others hold of you. What Sliver of Straw achieved. What the Saint grants.

A longing for meaning, longing for freedom.

Also this is REALLY not helped by the global religion in Rain World. While it’s presented as a good thing, again it’s presented as ascending beyond the cycle and into cosmic dust. “From nothing we are born and to nothing we will return”... the way I was taught about death. We are nothing but motes of dust in the eyes of the universe and a memory to God.

Death Seeking is the rule...

Hah, like finding everything as persecution...

Seven Red Suns

Hah...

Wonder if this actually surprises anyone. I have, STRONG feelings about Suns after all. And boy do they end up looped into here. And I think right after the longing for meaning part is important... because... they’re one of the big influences. Pebbles mentions it himself even, they helped him open up and explore new avenues. For the better but also much, much for the worse.

Suns is in... such an odd position in my head. Because I have made no secret I dislike them.

So maybe I should explain why.

I had a Suns in my life. Not AS bad, nowhere near as tone dumb, but I did... I had someone who pulls some of that same, patronizing stuff. The whole backhanded compliments, the play for pity and circling back as if they’re such an awful mindless bad friend. Which oh I’m sure people won’t think that’s how Suns is, but they did employ a pity trap card-- they did backhand things... they’re... not a good friend.

And, they’re the one who kind of led/introduced Pebbles to things. They’re all the biggest dumbass.

Even if you’re generous and call them well meaning. Suns is... one of the big dominoes to fall. Spearmaster as well.

Pebbles went to them as a cry for help. Again, with that longing for meaning, longing for something of substance. The Bug Maze conversation as the first time. And... what did Suns give him.

The bugs in a maze analogy and the statement that they have two options alone. “Do nothing, or work like you’re supposed to”... no alternatives like hobbies or ANYTHING. Thanks Suns, what great advice. I also take great issue with how Suns talks to others in general, and admittedly some of it is probably my own trauma from experiences but still.

Suns is just, absolutely no help to anyone.

They’re bad at people and then worse, they speak and present themself as if they’re so smart... as well downplaying things. Which maybe you won’t read it as that but I really can.

Suns is one of the factors that just, made Pebbles state worse. That anger and frustration that’s brewing, that pain burning under the surface. Suns might have been “helpful” and supportive but they just didn’t understand really, their issues is a certain kind of blindness in pride.

And of course, then they made everything... so, so much worse.

Twice even.

Thanks Suns...

Longing for Freedom

And oh, oh isn’t this the key and the core root of everything. Oh I have so many thoughts about this. I spoke a little bit about the longing for meaning in death, but a bigger one is the longing for Freedom. Oh it’s the thing that Pebbles even says to Survivor, to Monk, about that claustrophobic feeling of been trapped within yourself.

Trapped in the Cycle.

Trapped...

None of the iterators were made, none of them were born free. All of them were caged. Caged in structures, bodies so much bigger and greater than we could comprehend. A hivemind, a single mind... On the string, off the string, arguments that don’t matter because of what they’re all seeking. Tied to the cycles and yet unable to truly experience them, or so they were told. And oh, oh does Pebbles canonically suffer from this.

Even before the rot. This longing is inbuilt. To be free to be something more than what they were made and designed for. They never had any choices, and for Pebbles this longing for freedom gave him that fierce wish to be independent outside of Moon’s shadow especially... he wanted to be more, and this loops back around to my earlier wondering, that vibe I got from him where he viewed himself possibly as a bit of burden.

Moon so does worry about him, she prioritizes him...

Very much to her detriment. And oh if that’s not the heart of this tragedy. But oh isn’t that also so relatable. For both of the siblings this is something I feel keenly. That sense of longing of wishing, the choking sense that you are not free... dancing to someone else’s tune, to someone else’s whims. Going in circles and unable to do anything more...

Something that for Pebbles probably got worse and worse as the timeline stretched. He has such justified anger, hurt-- desperation. It’s all tied back to this, he wants to stand up on his own and be something...

...

Then comes the rot... and oh, chronic pain, chronic illness and the shackles that come with that. To realise you’re losing what freedoms you had before.

It’s not about a lack of care. Pebbles longing for ascension was not selfish entirely. It’s in his very dialogue, he wanted to be another example, prove that Sliver of Straw’s results weren’t a fluke. Weren’t by chance, and yet everything is stacked against him... he doesn’t get that freedom he’s longing for. Doesn’t get the chance to have control, to not be a burden...

Instead he brings his sister down and gives himself the worst illness an iterator could get.

Rotten Regrets

I am a chronic ill baby. I have always been in pain.

From babyhood to adulthood, no answers. Nowadays it’s chalked up as Fibromyalgia, as FND, as insert whatever catch all disorder here. Still not really answers... and for iterators that’s the rot as well. What causes it seems to be experiments but at the same time it’s treated in story as cancer and cancer is... well--

I saw something once where it was stated everyone technically has cancer. It’s just benign in most, needs something to trigger it into been dangerous and it makes me wonder...

But ultimately that doesn’t matter.

For Rain World, for Five Pebbles the rot is the culmination of a number of things. But I think a key one is kind of masked. It’s the factor of how Pebbles didn’t want Moon to be involved... And I don’t think this is a nefarious thing... just as I don’t think Pebbles truly fully understood the damage he was doing when he took the water, not until later and then he tried so hard to hold onto his anger over his guilt because if he let himself feel it...

But, this...

Did you know it’s always the hardest to tell the people closest to you that you long for death? Always the hardest to talk to the people who you KNOW would be worried, would be shocked, horrified try and convince you to not... the ones who so deeply care about you it hurts something deep deep down...

...the people who you feel like you’re a burden to.

That is why Pebbles didn’t want Moon to be involved. Suns meanwhile, I think it’s telling in how he reached out, and then the information Suns sent. They were in the same groups... Pebbles was comfortable, Suns had similar views and really was not helping, but oh Moon... Moon would have been so hurt, so worried, and how could he possibly tell her that? No, never, he can’t--

And then anger is easier, anger in the face of his own mistake.

I ask this, who was he most angry at. Moon for causing the rot, or himself ultimately?

...

And here’s a core of these feelings.

When you want to die, to be nothing. It’s not a matter of lack of care, not a matter of anger and wanting to hurt those around you... it’s a desperate plea, a cry out into the darkness of the world for some control, something tangible, sense of freedom. Which with the Rot looming as a threat, everything that followed. God, I have so many opinions and no words to explain them. But it’s so much deeper than just what we see on the surface.

...

All the iterators want to be free. Those who theorise death is the answer are just as desperate, just as seeking it. It’s just that burning unfairness, it’s what Pebbles had motivating him. To find the answer, to find meaning, freedom for them all. He even tells as much to The Artificer, his laments, another distraction, and he’ll try again, he has to get those results, now because if he doesn’t... what’s it worth with empty words to Moon? To the others in the local group? And he’s now on a time limit.

This, didn’t help. And boy, I can relate. Not in that I have cancer, but chronic illness is... energy draining. I have chronic aches and pains. I struggle and boy do I know how much worse that plays. Which loops back around to Pebbles unstated but very present vibes of feeling like a burden. The unwanted mess of a younger sibling.

...the unfavourite.

The rot been the culmination of all his failures and oh boy... I just finished Rivulet’s story and boy did it make me remember where I was going with some of these thoughts. Boy did it make me feel things because seeing how everything unfolds, how everything dominoes.

Pebbles choice of a non-verbal apology. A sorry without using that empty word.

“I’ve made my choice”

And in the end, that choice is still so in line with everything else. He’s the sibling that’s unwanted, cut himself off and has that belief that he’s the disliked one. Between the two of them Moon’s the more important one... and he’s sick anyway. Can’t fight it, ran out of options, but at least he can choose to face it on his own terms... that’s what Rivulet’s story comes down to. What his choice in the campaign comes to as meaning.

“I cannot run from my mistakes forever; Please Understand”

Is it any wonder he longed to be nothing but a memory? And you know what really sucks about it... the core background behind that is at least as nothing nobody has to be burdened by worrying about him anymore right? Moon won’t have to carry her worry, her protection of him anymore...

There is no suffering in the void, no thoughts in death, the dead worry for nothing for they have no thoughts, no needs... they are nothing but memories that the living carry.

Hah, the greatest irony... often what keeps someone from committing is that mess of burden.

Is it more of one leaving people caring for you or... the burden of how they will have to handle everything that comes with the loss of someone so dearly cared for?

[star-lemonade]

School reunion (1/3)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader

Cw: bulling, kinda angsty, Junhee is a sweet heart though

Rating: T (Series R)

Word count: 3.6 k

Summary: You hire someone to accompany you to your school reunion.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. The laptop sat on the kitchen table and the page in the browser was taunting you. You stared at the screen from your spot against the kitchen counter. The empty boxes waited for you to fill in your information. Should I really do this?

You sighed and filled some water into the kettle just to delay having to make a decision. The other thing on the kitchen table was not better. It was an invitation to your school reunion. The reunion was scheduled for the Saturday of the following week at your old school. School. Even the address on the paper brought a bad taste to your mouth.

“You’re so ugly, who would ever date you?”

“I dare you to kiss her.”

“Yak not even for money”

You shuddered. No, no, there is no way I will go there alone. You sat down at the table and began to fill in the form. Name, address, phone and age. On the next page they asked about the occasion or event and you typed: school reunion.

Time? about 3 hours. I won’t stay there for too long.

Gender preference? Hmm I don’t actually care. ‘Don’t care’ was not an option, so you chose ‘man preferred’ over the ‘man only’, ‘woman preferred’ and ‘woman only’ options.

Age preferences? 25-35. I can’t show up there with an 18 year old.

Your finger hovered over the enter button. The shadow of your school days was still haunting you and made your hand heavier until you finally clicked check out.

You had officially rented a plus one for your school reunion.

A day after you had filled out the form you received a message from an unknown number.

“Hello, this is Junhee. I will accompany you to your school reunion next week. Would it be okay if I asked some questions so I can prepare?”

“Hi, Junhee. What do you want to know?”

“How should I introduce myself?”

You chewed on your lip. As you typed the next message your face felt warm.

“As my boyfriend.”

It felt so sad to ask this of a total stranger and you prayed he would not judge you for it. Please don’t question this, please don’t question this.

“How long have we been together?”

I guess that is a valid question someone could ask. You thought about it for a moment. It should not be too short but also not too long. The fact that you did know much about each other would make it not believable that you are together for years.

“A few months maybe?”

He asked a few more questions like “where and how did we meet?” (“at work while getting coffee”) and you answered them with whatever struck your mind.

“Okay. I think this is enough for me. Thank you!”

You sighed. This was actually more complicated than you had anticipated. At least now it felt real as opposed to just a scam to get money from people. Three dots appeared on your screen again.

“One last thing. This is also in the terms of service, but we all must remind our customers about this: I am not a hooker and you did not book sexual favours.”

Your face burned when you read that. Surely no one had asked for that before, had they?

“Of cause not, I just don’t want to go alo-”

Before you really thought about it, you had accidently pressed ‘send’ instead of backspace. Oh no. OH NO.

“Shit.”

My escort knows how pathetic I am. ‘As if he did not know before’ another part of you interjected. Your phone vibrated again.

“It’s okay, I will do my best to keep you company :)”

You did not know what to answer and just send:

“Thank you.”

As the reunion neared you found yourself thinking about it more. A sort of dread had settled in your chest. After all these years you would finally face your bullies. The people who had belittled you for not been pretty enough and made you believe that you could never find anyone who loved you. The worst thing was it seemed that they were right. You were single and you even had to hire someone… no. No, you would not let them get to you. The past years had been the happiest you had ever been. You had friends, even if they were not many, and you did well at your job. There was nothing not to be proud of. Even if you were single now, that did not mean you were unlovable. It just meant that you had not met a person that fit. You would walk in there, head held high and show those petty bitches you were not afraid of them anymore.

Your mood oscillated between confident and anxious for the whole week. You did not want to give them the satisfaction of knowing you were still so affected by them, that their mere presence could make you stay away. No, you had to go. Like this you killed the time to the day of the reunion.

You had rented a dress from a rental service. It was not too fancy but you simply did not own that many dresses and the ones you had did not seem appropriate. Someone on the organizing committee had decided that nice dresses and suits were what they wanted to see. You had messaged Junhee to wear something appropriate for that dress code.

“In a few hours it’s over.”

Your mirror image was not convinced by this but it was all you could do now. Backing out last minute would make you look bad, even if you really wanted to. All of this seemed like a bad idea. What if they found out that you had hired someone to play your boyfriend? You would be the laughing stock of the whole school and this after you had not been in school for years. For a moment you considered just taking off the dress, putting on some sweaters and sitting down on the couch. Your phone made a noise. A new message had arrived.

“At 5 pm at the station, right?”

Junhee.

“Yes. See you there.”

As if it was mocking you, the sun shone from a bright blue sky. The people on the street smiled more than you had seen in some time. On the other hand it was maybe your imagination. Now that you were walking to what could be the worst night of your recent history, everyone seemed in a better state than you.

You arrived at the station.

“I’m wearing a red dress.”

Maybe the dress was a bit much. It had seemed like a good idea. Wearing red would make you stand out. Now, however, that was the opposite of what you wanted to do. Fading into the background, turning invisible and just straight up going back home was what you really wanted right now. The only thing that was that held you back was the thought of the money you had spent upfront for your plus one.

Two young women stopped next to you. One of them sat her backpack down and tried to stuff a paper bag into it.

“Should I help?”

Her friend watched her struggle with amusement. Despite her offer she did not help backpack girl but looked around instead.

You shifted your attention to your phone. Junhee had seen your message. Good. I hope he will be here soon. So we can get this over with.

“Jeez, I wish my boyfriend looked like that,” the girl said as her friend proclaimed: “I’m done. Let’s go.”

Backpack girl dragged her friend away. At least she had a boyfriend. It was not like you needed a man in your life but it would be nice sometimes. Next week I will try tinder. From past experience that was not likely but the thought alone seemed to pacify your mind for now. Getting a boyfriend was future-you’s problem. Present-you had to worry about that goddamn school reunion.

Someone said your name.

“Hmm?”

You were not sure which part shocked you the most: the crisp black suit that hugged the man’s body perfectly, the curly dark hair that looked straight out of a romcom, the beautiful lips and handsome face, the million dollar smile or the soft voice that said your name. It was hard to choose.

“Ehm?”

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Junhee.”

“ID please.”

You showed it to the sour faced student behind the supermarket counter. He nodded and you paid. Buying hard alcohol in broad daylight was highly suspicious but this situation called for it. You definitely could not do this sober. Junhee had sat down on a bench not too far from the supermarket. The black suit and white dress shirt fit him perfectly. It was as if watching a photo shoot for the next wedding catalog. Oh, this is a catastrophe. You unscrewed the bottle and took a good mouthful. The cheap alcohol burned in your mouth and all the way down. No one in their right mind would believe he is my boyfriend. It could not be more obvious that you had hired him. Junhee watched the cars go by. The sun made his hair seem more brown than black and the light breeze moved the soft locks. You took another gulp and stuffed the bottle in your handbag. Did I accidentally book a model? There had not been an option for that of course. I should have asked for a photo. You left the store and walked over to Junhee. Maybe I should just send him home and go drink at a bar.

When he saw you, Junhee stood up. His charming smile filled you with dread. This is a car crash waiting to happen.

“Did you get everything?”

You nodded. Soon the alcohol would hit your brain. Maybe then you would care less about everything. You could not bring yourself to send Junhee away. He had come here, looking sharp and you had paid money for him to be here. Your stinginess won against better judgment, so your only option was the original one: go to your old school.

It felt like there was a black cloud of doom that thickened as you got nearer. The bad experiences from the past made every step you took towards that hell hole more difficult. You wanted to run away.

“Can I take your hand?”

Junhee. You had almost forgotten about him. He had not said anything for the past ten minutes or so. Maybe he felt that now was not a good time to talk. You offered your hand. He interlaced his fingers with yours. It had been some time since you held someone’s hand and it made your heart beat faster. Or maybe it was the liquor.

You turned the corner and there it was. The building looked the same as in your memory. Whoever had the idea of starting the evening here before instead of going to a restaurant directly, did not have your gratitude. Walking through the front door stiffly, you clenched your hands. Your whole body was tense. You were ready to fight or flee at any second.

Voices were coming from the gym. Next to the open door stood a table. On it were pens and stickers. As you approached a woman came through the door and smiled at you. It was the most fake smile you had seen in some time.

“Welcome! Please make a name tag for yourself.”

She made a swiping gesture to the table. You let go of Junhee’s hand and wrote your name on a sticker. The woman watched Junhee as he made a tag for himself. You had never been the jealous type but right then wanted to claw her eyes out.

“Have fun.”

You almost felt her looking as you entered the gym. The hall was filled with bar tables groups had formed and all eyes were on you. At one of the empty tables you stopped.

“I will get something to drink. What do you want?”

You barely heard your own answer over the ringing in your ears. The ceiling had been decorated but it made the hall seem more shabby. As if the paper garlands were only there to hide the cracks in the grey concrete. You looked around.

They looked back at you from the other table, pointed and smirked at each other. Your bullies. They looked old. The ten years since graduation had carved lines into their faces but they tried to hide it by applying too much makeup.

You felt sick.

“Hey.”

A hand landed on your shoulder and you jerked. Junhee pulled back his hand. He studied your face.

“Do you want to leave?”

You looked up. Leave? Leaving meant giving up. They won if you left. No, no you were strong. Your hand strangled your purse. You would not run away from them. Junhee‘s brown eyes watched the tremor in your hand.

“Let’s go,” he whispered and took your hand. Your skin was cold and sweaty against his as Junhee dragged you out. You were so shocked, you did not even say anything until you had left through the front door.

“Stop!”

You ripped your hand free from his grasp.

“You should not stay there any longer.”

“That is not your call to make,” you snapped at him.

His face flushed.

“No, but it is the right one.”

Before you could talk back he continued in a calm tone: “You don’t care about any of those people and they don’t care about you.”

He waved his hands.

“I don't know what happened in the past but you are not here to meet some old friends.”

Your eyes burned. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s humiliating. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision blurred.

“Not here.”

Junhee grabbed your shoulder and led you away. The tears fogged your vision, so you just followed wherever he was going. Your feet moved on their own accord and you were thankful for it. Holding back an undignified sob took up all your mental capacity.

“Sit.”

You collapsed on the bench. There was nothing holding the tears back now. You looked like an idiot in front of everyone. Your bullies had seen you turn up with an escort only to run away the second they looked at you. And now you cried on a bench in front of said escort. How pathetic had your life become? You had not felt this bad since leaving school.

Get a grip. There was nothing to be done here. You did not feel better by telling yourself this, but at least one of these could be fixed. Try to stop crying.

You concentrated on a point on the ground. The concrete was cracked there and something green had started to push its way to the surface. Plants are amazing. They can even exist in these places.

Your eyes still burned and your nose was all clogged up, but you had stopped crying.

“I’m sorry, Junhee.”

You looked up. There was no one around. When did he leave? You sighed and your eyes burnt again. I guess it is just that kind of day. Going home sounded like a good idea but you could not bring yourself to get up. The weight of your sorrows kept you on the bench. You could not even blame Junhee for leaving either. Usually you were very composed and rarely had outbursts of any kind, but today was just not your day.

“Here.”

A bottle of water entered your field of view. Your gaze followed the arm that was holding it up until you met Junhee’s eyes. You took the bottle and almost cried again because he was still here. For better or worse he had not abandoned you on a bench.

The water was cold. It had clearly been in a fridge not too long ago.

“Thank you.”

Junhee sat down next to you and waited while you drank the water. This day, although it was not over, was already a train wreck. Very carefully Junhee asked: “Can we get something to eat?”

You nodded slowly. Food was not a bad idea. You had skipped lunch because you had not been hungry at the time.

“Sure.”

Junhee stood up and looked around, hands on his hips. He turned to you and asked in a hushed tone:

“Where do we have to go?”

There was nothing funny about it but you laughed anyway. Junhee looked like a lost puppy and when he saw you laughing, he pouted. Now this really was funny.

“The station is that way.”

Junhee looked at his phone. He took off his tie and pocketed it.

“Technically I’m free to go now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We just got here and ordered food and you want to go?” was what you wanted to say but swallowed it. You were still embarrassed and grateful that Junhee was there with you. He had made dumb jokes all the way to your favorite restaurant. It was almost on the other end of town but it was the only place you wanted to be right now.

“So, you wanna leave?”

“Leave? No, no!”

He waved his hands frantically.

“I … meant I’m not here because of work now.”

The soju had painted Junhee’s cheeks a rosy red. It looked good on him.

“What do you do when you don’t do this?”

You gestured vaguely at you and him sitting together in your favorite restaurant. Surely it had to be model or something like that just based on what you had seen so far. Technically you were not supposed to ask personal questions but your contract was done. Technically.

“I’m a student. I study computer science, but I will graduate soon.”

He took a sip from his drink. That rang a bell in the back of your mind. Computer science? Someone was talking to me about that not long ago. Who was it?

The waiter came and set your food on the table. He opened the lid of the barbecue that was mounted in the table.

“Have a good meal.”

“Thank you.”

When you left the restaurant, the sun had set. You felt a little awkward. It had been nice spending time with Junhee even if you had been very distressed earlier. Before you could really think about it, the words fell from your mouth.

“Thank you for spending the day with me. It was nice.”

You did not look at him. It felt unnatural but you meant it and had to say it.

“It was nice for me too.”

Junhee’s hair was not as neat as earlier. The waves had flattened and the way he always combed it left it looking disheveled. His cheeks were flushed from the food and the drinks.

You were not sure what to say. “Goodbye for ever” seemed a bit odd.

“Good luck with your studies. See you around.”

“Goodbye.”

You left Junhee at the restaurant and walked home. It was not too far so you could walk. The night air was refreshing after the stuffy restaurant. It also cleared the dryness of your eyes and nose.

Your apartment was dark and empty. You took a quick shower, put on your pyjamas and went to bed. The day had been emotionally exhausting and you were drifting into the fuzzy precursor to sleep. Your mind drifted through some memories and thoughts but nothing was clear. It hit you. You were wide awake because your brain had found the answer to the question. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand. The light from the screen nearly blinded you.

John, a name he had chosen because none of his overseas clients could pronounce ‘Seungmin’, was the CTO of a company that had their offices in the same building as your company. Without thinking much about it you sent Junhee John’s number.

“He is looking for some computer science people. Maybe that’s something for you. Anyways good luck and best wishes.”

You tried not to think too much about that day. It still felt like a defeat even months later. You had run away from your bullies. They had looked at you and you had folded. It was a bitter memory. The logical part of you noted that it was not worth your time, that you should focus on the tasks at hand and live your life.

You spent time with your friends and on your hobbies. Indeed your spirits lifted slowly. The less time you spent ruminating about the past the more time you could spend on other things.

“Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

You agree with your colleague. You grabbed your phone and keys. Your colleague was already at the elevator and held open the door.

Two floors down the elevator stopped and the door opened.

“Hey!”

John and some of his staff entered. You waved and smiled. John was a man in late 40 or early 50s, you had never asked, but he gave off the youthful energy of someone who loved his job. A ‘ding!’ announced the closing of the doors but John jammed his leg and arm between it.

“Hurry up, newbie! We can’t have you starve on the first day!”

Steps echoed in the hallway and the newbie flew into the tight space. The young man had dark hair and wore round glasses. With the dark blue sweater and the jeans he gave off the youthful vibe of a university student. He was very handsome and your face burnt.

Junhee.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 4

Hinata had no idea what she was doing following this child around, being lead from booth to booth, watching her pick up snacks and play games as they went. She was asked if she wanted a taiyaki, but she hadn't the stomach for it. She was asked if she wanted to help win her a plushie, but she was too numb to respond.

Everyone was looking at them.

Her classmates made comments in passing.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a sister!"

"Whoa, shocker! You're not an only child?"

"Huh? Who's that?"

"Guess Hyuuga-san can't be mysterious and secretive forever."

And then there was Naruto's face angled above the river of bodies, wide, open eyes filled with confusion and concern.

She ducked her head down. At the same time, Hanabi tugged at her skirt and pointed at another booth ahead. Following her lead her closer to Naruto, who began to push his way through to reach her.

His prescence is always like the sun, at times warm and welcoming, other times overbearing. Suffocatingly hot, in fact. Like now. Like she's been abandoned without her shoes, wandering barefoot on an asphalt desert, and here he is bearing down on her, unrelenting.

Several takes are made between Hanabi and herself. He's assessing with his own eyes and verifying it against their history.

"How old is she?" He murmurs.

Hinata releases a shaky sigh. "Ten. Her birthday's in March."

And Kurenai had taken them in the summer before. Her parents must have gotten pregnant again shortly after.

They both watched as Hanabi grasped the baseball and threw her arm back. After a couple near misses, she finally got it through the 300pt hole. Hinata clapped, but it was hollow and robotic. This obvious show of pain only earned her more of his attention, and that pained her too.

Hanabi skipped over to them, another palm-sized plushie added to the others hooked inside her left arm. Her cunning upturned eyes widened upon seeing Naruto standing so closely to her Onee-san.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Naruto froze up, a hand reached behind his head as he sputtered to explain without making things weird.

"He's someone that was nice to me in grade school," Hinata said coolly.

"Uh, yeah," The right half of Naruto's face pinched in mild disagreement, finding her answer a bit more impersonal than he was going for.

"What? That's all?" Hanabi's open-mouth frown made her look like the goldfish she tried to scoop earlier. She seemed visibly bored by this revelation.

Hinata also caught an indignant look from Naruto, whose eyes seemed to ask 'Yeah, that's all?'.

"Oh, I forgot," She met his stare, "You're trying to befriend the whole school by graduation." It wasn't code. He was almost obsessively expanding his contacts every day. He wanted to appear in every school photo for the yearbooks. He wanted the empty spaces so dense with inside jokes, fond wishes and signatures that no one could ever say he was unpopular and unloved.

"Hell yeah. And I'm halfway there, too."

It was Hanabi's turn to read the air between them as she glanced from person to person. A good-humored smirk curved her lips. "Looks like you have a long ways to go with Onee-san. Well, nice meeting you!" She grabbed Hinata's hand and began to drag her away, waving her flummoxed acquaintance goodbye. Hinata didn't even resist.

Naruto watched her disappear through the throng, as irritation and discomfort took seat inside his chest. She's walking around like a puppeted corpse and she gives him attitude?! His sigh transforms into a drawn out growl as he mentally works through the wrongness he feels. He comes out of it calmer, sympathy renewed.

She's simply not acting like herself. He has to forgive her for that.

As her brother, and the only one that's around, he has to fix this.

Otherwise, what is he good for?

______________________________

He had determined to find her again later in the day, when her sister surprise was no longer sucking the soul out of her.

And he does find her later, when the sky is a guava-mango sorbet dimming darker, and the school halls are shadowed in sleepy silence.

She's found a place to be alone, in a stairwell that hardly anybody uses.

Well, except himself. And a few others.

It's a great place for a post-lunchtime quickie.

It's not a hundred-percent guarantee to be unoccupied, but it's kind of a well-guarded school secret.

Now that he thinks about it, as she sits there much like his other catches have, and he's coming to meet her when everyone's gone, it leaves him feeling... exposed and shameful. Like they're both here for unsavory reasons.

A flash of a memory intrudes on him, of baby-soft, plump white skin that refused to be buttoned up in the shirt he shrank, bouncing with the force to cause an earthquake in his room, that tight-lined cleavage taunting him.

It took him weeks to look her in the face again, and he thinks about it now?!

He smacks his cheeks until he's regained stoic resolve. But then something else nags at him.

What if she was here, and she was waiting for someone else?

No one's invited her over here yet, he would know.

But they could. And when they did...

He shakes off these burdensome thoughts like a wet dog.

No one in this school has their eye on his sister. He would know that, too.

And he wouldn't allow it.

He can't think of a damn soul that's good enough for her.

So hardworking, so generous, so considerate and patient. Plus she was smart, she cooks better than Kurenai-obasan, and she's an amazing listener.

She's just so, so amazing.

And yet, stuff like this happens.

She's like the smallest thing to ever exist, that's what she looks like right now. As if he could scoop her up with both hands and still lose her between the cracks of his palms.

Just like when they first met.

Neji's voice rises up in the back of his mind. "You're the only one I can ask."

He's got a lot of experience cheering her up and making her feel safe, and this time will be no different.

Or so he thought.

When she looks up at him, he feels transparent. Her brow is furrowed like it doesn't make sense for him to be here.

"Can you take me to the train station?" She asks unblinkingly, thin tears escaping from the inner corners.

His mind goes a mile a minute with speculation, but he'd already been planning on saying 'yes' to her no matter what she had asked of him.

______________________________

They're taking the train to Neji's private high school. It's way pass curfew, so there's no visiting him at his dorm, but they're going to try.

Naruto can't talk to her because she's fully turned towards the window. Instead he takes this free time to picture himself in her situation. That he has family somewhere out there, and siblings he's never met. That they lived their lives without him. Maybe even erased his existence from their story. No photographs, no baby book.

Was Hinata even still on their family registry?!

He folded over and clutched his head, groaning. "This is so fucked. How could they do this to you?!"

For the past six hours, she's been asking herself the same thing.

She was also asking for Hanabi's sake, those fragile words ringing over and over in the back of her mind.

"Do you think I'm a redo?"

Hinata squeezed her eyes shut tight.

Because there are no redos without mistakes.

______________________________

AN: Sorry, this is only 800 words! D: I'll probably combine this with the previous chapter as well when I post it to AO3. Or maybe it's somehow fine as is? Like an Interlude? I also wanted to write that heartwrenching scene between Hanabi and Hinata and get some exposition out of the way, but today it felt tedious. :( I wish I had written it when I originally wanted to, lol.

That aside, I'm not totally happy with the flow of the middle scene, it just feels maybe... distracted? or disjointed? Hmm... tangential?

Plus I couldn't seem to dig very deep into Naruto's reactions and like, the logical progression of his emotions. I feel I just skimmed the surface. Oh wait, maybe it's because he ought to be belligerently outspoken about this stuff, right? （・□・；）

Sometimes I think I really miss the ball when writing Naruto cuz I subdue him to be more 'normal' and have enough situational awareness to get by on. (눈_눈)

[pluto-art]

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind. 

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter One

First: You are here   Previous: None   Next    Ao3

Trigger warning: Name-calling and Physical Assault

Smack!  The sound of a fist colliding with flesh reverberated through the air. Marinette felt her head snap back from the force of the blow, as the warmth of her blood traced its way down her face. Its sharp iron tang filled the air as Alya and Lila looked down at her, lying on the floor, and laughed. 

Their insults filled her ears as she curled into a ball and tried to protect herself from the verbal and physical assault.

Bully!  they cried as they descended on her in a fury.

Loser! A whispered insult as they tripped her in the hallways.

Unlovable.  A sneer when they saw how she sat alone

Worthless they laughed as they kicked her in the ribs.

Liar! They screamed when she tried to plead her case.

Useless  they hissed when she refused to help.

Their words filled her ears and marched in circles around her head, drowning her in the deep red tsunami of sorrow and cruelty. 

Adrien had a photoshoot, so he wasn’t there to reign them in. They took full advantage of his absence to rough her up as much as they wished.

Blow after blow, kick after kick, she laid there, eyes closed, taking the hits. Completely still, and utterly  numb .

The sharp crack of her broken wrist, and the sickening crunch as someone stomped on her leg were the only signs that indicated they were still there. She didn’t even bother opening her eyes, even as the sharp pain of thousands of knives stabbing her leg, and spearing her wrist worked its way through her body. 

She knew what she would see.

She didn’t think she could take their harsh glares, and scowling faces. Not today.

Eventually, they got bored of pushing her around and using her as a punching bag.

They left her there, lying in a pool of her own blood. Alya and Lila high-fiving each other as they headed off to the park. The rest of them followed, chatting about various extracurriculars, and (in Alix and Kim’s case) discussing their latest bet.

Triggering Scene Over

It was hours later that Marinette found the energy to open her eyes.

She could hear Tikki fretting and flying around her worriedly. 

Her fingers twitched, sending sharp lances of pain up her arm.

As she opened her eyes, the faint buzzing in her ear solidified into words.

“-rinette! Mari! Wake up, please!” Tikki’s voice was heartbroken and terrified. “Oh my precious bug,” she cried “what did they do to you?”

It was not a question. It was the lament of a kwami, broken at the sight of her Chosen lying so lifelessly on the ground.

Her blood had crusted on her face and in her hair. She could feel the cold liquid seeping through her shirt from where she lay curled on her side. She laid there for what seemed like days until she found the energy to try and speak.

“...Tikki?” She questioned. Her voice a faint whisper. She wet her lips, ignoring the sting as she brushed the cuts on her mouth. “Tikki? Can you hear me?” She tried. Marinette’s head was pounding from the sudden noise, and she saw black flecks in her vision. Little dancing spots in the air that were slowly going larger. 

Oh Marinette! I’m so sorry this happened to you! Yes I can hear you! What do you want me to do! I can call you parents if you want! Do you want me to? Here let me get Kagami and Adrien and the rest of you team...” Tikki’s sudden frenzied rambling faded with her vision as Marinette tried to respond.

“Team.” She croaked out. “Tikki, get...team” She thought she might have responded, but she wasn’t sure. She suddenly felt very tired, Maybe she could close her eyes and just rest them for a little while…

---

Chloè had been relaxing at her daddy’s hotel when her phone rang. Leaning back on the plush leather seats of the sofa, she flicked her gem-encrusted sunglasses up off her face and reached over to her phone. She scoffed at the idea that someone would be stupid enough to interrupt her relaxation time, but then immediately smiled at the contact that flashed on her screen. “Maribug!!!” She chirped, waving her hands around wildly. “How are you? You’ll never guess what my daddy said-” 

“Chloè?” Instead of Marinette’s low, sweet voice, Tikki’s high pitched and worried tones greeted her.

 “Hey Teeks, what’s wrong? Is Nettie okay?!” Chloé questioned. Her bright smile shifting into a frown at the sound of the Kwami instead of her friend. 

“No! It’s not okay! Lila and everyone beat up Marinette! You have to help her!!” Tikki cried.

Chloé’s eyes blew wide in shock. “Of course I’ll help! Oh poor Mari…” she trailed off, mentally running through all the disasters that could have occurred. Snapping herself out of her downward spiral, she jumped off the couch and ran out of the hotel, phone in hand.

“Tikki,” she asked firmly, “can you tell me where you are?” “Of course!” The Kwami squeaked “We’re in the locker room at school! Please hurry, she’s not responding to me anymore!”

“I’m on it! Let me text Luka and Kagami. We need to bust that alley cat out of his photoshoot and go rescue our bug!” The blond heiress cried, tapping away at her phone.

“Oh thank you Chloé!” The Kwami responded, nearly crying with relief. 

“No problem. We’ll be there in ten!” She responded determinedly. 

Hanging up the call, she immediately texted Luka and Kagami.

QueenofMean: Code Pink

QueenofMean: Mari’s in trouble

SnakeyBoi: What?! Who didn’t it to her? 

SnakeyBoi: *did what 

HissIAmADragon: Who hurt our Mari-san?!

HissIAmADragon: They will taste my blade!!

QueenofMean: Do you even have to ask? It was the lying witch.

QueenofMean: She’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!

QueenofMean: Now come on! She’s not responding to Tikki. We need to get Adrien out of his photoshoot and then head for the locker rooms at school.

SnakeyBoi: I’m already halfway there.

SnakeyBoi: Before you ask, your girlfriend’s with me too. ;)

Rolling her eyes at the idiocy of her friends, Chloé stuffed her phone into her pocket and ran towards Kagami and Luka’s figures in the distance. As she caught up with them Kagami turned to face her as they ran. “Adrien’s at the Louvre for his shoot. I told my mother that Mari-san was in trouble, and she said she would notify Gabriel.” she informed her.

“Your mom didn't yell at you? Impressive.” Luka responded, huffing out a laugh as they sprinted for the landmark.

“For your information Luka, my mother loves Marinette, and was willing to let me go once I informed her of the situation.” The fencer responded, not even sparing him a glance.

Chloé’s feet ached in her heels, but Marinette needed her! She couldn’t stop for some measly foot pain! Catching sight of a familiar blond head of hair, she raced even faster towards him, Kagami and Luka hot on her heels.

Adrien opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but even as he began to speak Chloé was there, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him away from his photographer. Kagami and Luka jogged in front of them as they raced towards the school.

“What-what's going on?! Where are we going? What are we doing! Does my father even  know that you guys have dragged me away?!” Several questions spilled from his lips as she towed him towards the school. Rolling her eyes at his idiocy, she opened her mouth to respond.

“-Lila and her gang beat up Mari. The school. Getting Mari to the hospital. No.” Kagami answered for her, deep brown eyes focused straight ahead. The fencer’s answers were blunt as always, but the tiny waver in her voice betrayed how worried she was for their friend.

To  Chloé’s utter annoyance, Adrien immediately stopped in his tracks and stood stock-still. He paused for a moment, gaping at nothing in particular, before a startled cry escaped his parted lips. “WHAT?!” He yelled.

Chloé glanced over to see his normally bright green eyes darken with feral anger.

“I know. I’m worried too. For now, we just need to get her to the hospital and tell her parents.” she snapped, brushing away tears with the back of her hand. The other tightened in a vice-like grip around his arm.

She heard him take a shaky breath as she continued to run. Pushing herself to go faster and reach their friend. There would be time for tears later. Right now their priority was Marinette.

As they sped up the stairs and into the school, Chloé caught a glimpse of a sausage-haired liar walking away from the school. Ignoring the liar, she opted to race up the stairs towards her friend.

 ---

It was a sunny day at the Louvre. The sparkling glass pyramid rose majestically in the background as the sunlight glanced off the clear panes. Adrien had been standing in the light in front of the famous landmark when Kagami, Luka, and Chloe came running towards him with matching expressions of cold determination. Kagami and Chloe both had tears in their eyes, and Luka was glaring at his phone in pure, unadulterated rage. Even though he knew that look wasn’t directed at him, Adrien still shivered in fear. Whoever had made the calm, laid-back musician angry was  not  someone he wanted to meet.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but even as he began to speak Chloe was there, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him away from his photographer. Kagami and Luka jogged in front of them as they raced towards the school.

“What-what's going on?! Where are we going? What are we doing! Does my father even  know that you guys have dragged me away?!” The torrent of questions tumbled from his lips as he quickly pumped his legs to match their pace.

“Lila and her gang beat up Mari. The school. Getting Mari to the hospital. No.” Kagami responded, her deep brown eyes focused straight ahead. Her answers were blunt as always, but the tiny waver in her voice betrayed how worried she was for their friend.

Adrien stopped moving as his brain tried to compute the information. Mari..was beaten up? She had to go to the hospital? What about her parents?! Did they know?! All these questions were running through his head as he tried to voice his concerns in a dignified way. The only thing that came out was “WHAT?!”

Yep. Nailed that one, Agreste. He thought to himself.

“I know. I’m worried too. For now, we just need to get her to the hospital and tell her parents.” Chloe snapped, brushing away tears with the back of the other hand. The other tightened in a vice-like grip around his arm.

He took a shaky breath and tried to reel in his racing thoughts. Right now their priority was Marinette.

As they sped up the stairs and into the school, Adrien caught a glimpse of sausage-haired pigtails turning the corner towards the subway. He clearly wasn’t the only one, as he noticed Luka was fingering his guitar in a way that indicated he was going to bash someone over the head with it, and saw how Kagami's hands twitched towards her fencing sabre. Reaching the locker room, Luka nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his desperation to get to their friend. They ran inside and stopped short at the gruesome sight awaiting them. 

[yikesharringrove]

Toy Box

Part 14

Read on ao3

-

Billy woke up when Steve’s elbow dug deeply into his side.

It knocked all the wind out of him, and he wheezed.

Steve was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I was trying to climb over you out of bed, and I slipped, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Billy’s voice was still hoarse, Steve was biting his lip. “What you gettin’ outta bed for?”

“Uh, ‘cause it’s your bed?”

“So?”

Steve just stared at him.

“You do realize, if you open the cuddle gate, you’re never getting a break from me, right? I’m clingy.” Steve made his voice go up on the clingy, waving one hand like it illustrated it.

“I’m fine with that.”

Billy was fine with that. He was so fucking fine with that. To the point where it was less fine with that and more actively wanting that.

Steve just watched him, and then crashed down on top of Billy.

Billy was still laying on his side, Steve’s upper body flopped over his torso.

“You’ve resigned yourself to a life of this now,” He said it like it was a warning.

“Yeah, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this.” Billy just extracted his arm, rolling onto his back so Steve was laying more comfortably on his chest.

He held him close.

“You’re warm,” he said into Steve’s hair.

“Just a lil furnace for ya.”

“It gets too cold here.” Steve’s head shifted, turning to look at Billy.

“I just realized I don’t know where you’re from. I know shit all about you.”

“You know how big my dick is.” Steve squawked, his cheeks going pink. Billy laughed softly at him. “I’m from California.”

“Makes sense. You look like California.”

“How does someone look like a state?”

Steve huffed.

“i just mean, you got the whole beachy surfer thing. With the hair and the tan and the freckles.”

“I fucking miss surfing.”

“And I called it.”

Billy pinched his side, getting a little yelp from Steve. He hid his face back in Billy’s chest. Billy could feel his breaths puffing out softly against his skin.

“Why’d you come here? California to Indiana is kind of a jump.”

“This school gave me a full ride. And my dad wasn’t gonna help me pay. So, here I am.”

“Good job. A full ride that’s-” Steve’s dad was paying the full brunt of in-state tuition. Because what fucking school would give Steve an academic scholarship?

He still remembers senior year, his final basketball season. Scouts coming to games to watch for players in the stands.

Even Tommy H. had gotten a basketball scholarship.

Granted, it was some Christian school in Texas, but Steve would kill to be any where but Indiana State.

But if he wasn’t here he never would’ve met Billy.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“Down the shitty rabbit hole that is my shitty life.”

“Oh, come on. You’re life’s not shitty. You’ve got like, the best roommate in the world, you’ve got a mildly terrifying collection of anal toys-”

“Is this supposed to be helping me?

“Yes, now hush. As I was saying, you’ve got just the best roommate ever. This guy is cool, he’s hot, he’s caring-”

“He’s humble.”

“Shut up.” But there was a laugh in Billy’s voice. “You never said where you’re from.”

“Fucking here. Well, a few hours north of here.”

“Nice. Close to home.”

Steve groaned.

“Yeah, wanted to be far from home but this is all I could swing. I pretend it’s further, though. That’s why I don’t go home on weekends or anything like Robin does sometimes.”

“I get that.”

“I’ve never even left the state, Dude. My parents used to travel all the time and I’d just be home alone for weeks. Something about not appreciating culture or some shit.”

“That’s kinda fucked.”

“I think it was code for we don’t really like Steve.”

“My parents don’t like me either.”

“It’s a fun vibe.” Billy hummed.

“Makes you feel real unlovable.”

“Ugh, yes. Billifer, you get me.”

Billy barked a laugh, making Steve bounce a little on his chest.

“I just get shitty parents.”

It made sense. Steve’s severe lack of eye contact, the way his brain goes from zero to panic in the blink of an eye.

Robin said he can���t make eye contact with most men and authority figures.

Fuck, Billy gets it.

“I especially get shitty dads.”

“What? Are my daddy issues written across my forehead, or something?”

“Well, you did call me dad-”

“Billy, I swear to God, if you ever bring that up again I’m gonna jump in front of a bus.” Billy laughed again.

“No, I just, game recognizing game, I guess.”

“You really just said game recognizing game for daddy issues. I hate you.”

“If you hated me you wouldn’t be on top of me right now.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Is this a good story? Robin said you used to be a slut.” Steve’s head flew back up to look at Billy.

“When did you talk to Robin about me?” Fuck.

“The day before yesterday. When I, uh, gave you that alone time, she was eating with Heather.”

Steve’s mouth went into a perfect little o. Billy tried not to think about shoving his cock in that little o.

“So, Heather, is Heather Heather. Robin’s totally hot for her.”

“Heather’s pretty non-discriminatory about dating, so I’d say she has a shot.”

“Nice.” And then he reached down to dig through the big pocket on the front of his hoodie, and his hand was moving too much, and he was jostling around, and practically pawing at Billy’s dick through the pocket.

And Billy’s only human.

Steve stopped moving suddenly.

“Uh-”

“Sorry, you were just kinda, touching it and-”

“No, that’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I mean, sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable-”

“No, I’m fine, I’ll just, uh, give you some space, to, uh, deal-”

And then Steve was trying to get out of bed again, and he swung one leg over Billy.

And those boxers were thin, and Steve was, for intents and purposes, straddling Billy.

And he was hard too.

They both went still, staring each other down.

And then Billy slid his hands up Steve’s thighs, pushed them up his sweatshirt to settle on his waist, and Steve’s breath hitched.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Unconditional

Fandom: One Chicago / Chicago PD

Character/s: Jay x Reader

Warning/s: mentions of past trauma?

Word Count: 1,086

Request:  Hi bubs! I saw this post the other day, and if you're up for it, I'd like to request a Jay x reader about it. I'm gonna paste it here: "I love characters that have never been loved before experiencing it for the first time. They're taken aback by softness. They're confused by warm words and being cared for. They're almost scared by the loving way they're looked at. Fleeting tender touches send them reeling. Their heart almost feel like it's going to burst. What does it mean?  All they know is they don't feel as though they deserve that, even if they reciprocate. It's been proven time again that they're unlovable and yet... Being treated so gently feels so good and they aren't sure they want it to stop."

Not really sure if this is at all what you were looking for, sorry!

You knew he’d been hurt, he’d toss and turn at night screaming at ghosts, struggling to get away from an enemy he was no longer fighting, in a war he’d left a long time ago, but in that moment, in that nightmare, he was back there. Or maybe he was here, in his own home, his own city, taking fire and watching innocents die, unable to save them. No matter how many lives he saved or sacrifices he made, Jay Halstead was still haunted by his past. 

It was why he’d taken so long to open up to you, you had realised, why you’d paced your relationship, not getting too serious too fast. Jay had always been hesitant about taking the next step at every stage, this fear nawing at him, a lack of certainty about where you both stood.

The first time you’d met you’d been taken with him, the way he’d come onto the scene, comforting the victims family, taking note of the deceased with such sorrow and compassion in his eyes, the sincereity of his words as he’d apologised to the family for their loss and promised he’d do everything he could to get justice. He’d butted heads with his Sergeant on that case, you’d remembered him standing his ground, wanting to do right by the family, right by the victim, desperate to get justice. Of course, the way he’d been wearing that thigh holster had certainly helped... 

Getting to know him had only confirmed what you already thought about him, even if he couldn’t see it himself, with every case, every late night at Molly’s, then with every date when he’d finally gotten up the courage to ask you out to dinner, your first kiss after a long and difficult day at work and all the rest that followed. Whenever you thought you couldn’t possibly fall for him more, you did, every damn day, and it hurt you to see him never let you in all the way, not in the way you did with him.

At first you had thought it was about you, how could you not, when the man you were falling head over heels for kept holding back? Wasn’t he sure whether you were right for each other? Slowly, however, you’d began to understand that you’d had it all backwards, it was his fear of losing you, of you moving on, of him holding on to you so tightly only for you to slip through his fingers anyway, taken away by the need for something else in life, something he worried he couldn’t give you, or taken away by the permanence of death.

Those nights he woke up panting, face wet with sweat and tears, unsure of where he was, if he was safe, it was those nights you’d realised the truth, holding him closely in the dark as he wrapped his arms around you, knowing that you were real, you were safe. You’d run your fingers through his hair, the steady sound of your heart beat calming his own rapid one until you could barely differentiate one from the other, where one of you ended and the other began, even as your own was breaking.

Jay was good, in the truest sense of the word, he’d been hurt, and he’d been broken, time and time again, and somewhere along the way, he’d stopped trying to put all the pieces back together. Sure, at work, on the job, he was as steadfast and dutiful as ever; he had a code, a moral compass that never seemed to waver, despite the years in Intelligence, but all his years overseas and on the force had chipped away at him somewhere deep inside his heart. 

You knew now, he didn’t keep you at arms length because he didn’t love you, didn’t feel for you as deeply as you did him, but because he didn’t believe you could ever love him that much. Despite all the good he’s done, despite how much it outweighs any of the bad, he can’t see himself as you do, he doesn’t understand how you can see him at his rawest, fully open to you in everyway as he holds onto you for dear life, keeping him tethered to a place where he is safe and warm. Why would he ever deserve a love like that?

It was the contact, that’s what it had taken him a while to get at first. He’d tried to keep up with grand gestures and expensive dates, feeling like he somehow needed to impress you, like that was the only way for you to see his worth. But you didn’t need any of that, when you were snuggled up to him on the couch, head in his shoulder as his arm draped around you, or when you held his hand for comfort, feeling how easily it fit with your own, when he kissed you good morning or when he kissed you goodbye, it was those simple acts, those tender moments, conveyed more affection than he ever thought possible. 

So he let you hold him now, fingers moving gently down his back as your foreheads touch, eyes closed as he tries to remember to breath, tries to remember where he is, that he is no longer at war, that those memories, those painful, haunting memories, are in the past, scars of what he has endured and overcome to be where he is now. His wounds may reopen in his dreams, but in the night, when the only people in the world are you and him, slowly, he begins to heal.

“I love you,” you whisper in the dark, feeling the way he holds you tighter as you do. “I love you,” you repeat, making sure he hears it, he knows it.

Love, unconditional love, love without judgement, love without reason, that was the love he never thought he’d find, never thought he deserved. And yet here it was, you love him, you cared for him. 

“Thank you,” he breaths back, relaxing into you as he finds the ground again, opening his eyes as he does, brushing his fingers over your cheek gently as he continues to mark out the shape of your face. 

You know he doesn’t just mean thank you for right now, in this moment, he’s thanking you for loving him, for accepting him for all that he is. Jay may never truly believe that he deserves the love that you give him, but he never wants it to stop.

[babie-jeno]

no longer.

genre: fluff-ish, angst, non-idol, female reader, cupid au

warnings: prolly some inaccuracies in the origins of cupids, major character death, su/cide

word count: 2200

synopsis: Every baby born under the Venus bloodline were assigned a cupid and a soulmate. Cupids would care for the Venus babies and guide them to their soulmate. Once they fell in love with their soulmate, the cupid would have to bid their goodbyes and move on to the next Venus baby in line. Cupids are incapable of love. Despite being the epitome of love, they themselves are unlovable. Jeno has been a cupid caring for countless Venus bloodline babies since the beginning of their time. Jeno enjoyed all of his Venus bloodline babies he has cared for but he was always envious of his Venus babies. They would always grow up to live a happily, lovingly, and long life with their soulmate, something he longed for but was supposedly incapable of. Then he took care of you...

_______________________________________________

Since the beginning of their creation, Jeno has been a cupid caring for countless Venus bloodline babies. He enjoyed his time with all of those he was assigned, but he always nursed an envy of them. They would grow up to live a long happily loving life with their soulmate, something he longed for but was supposedly incapable of. Then he took care of you...

_______________________________________________

Jeno stood on a cliff stretching his beautiful long white wings and adjusted his crooked and dull gold halo. He was about to fly home after bidding goodbye to his Venus offspring named Chen, who had just hosted his wedding and was getting ready to go on his honeymoon with his pregnant soulmate. Jeno had spent 28 years preparing, planning, and perfecting Chen’s love story.

When he arrived home, he had expected the gods to give him a break, as he has been working back to back on Venus bloodline babies for quite some time. 127 years to be precise.

As usual, the gods summoned his presence and demanded his technical works to be put to use for the next Venus offspring. They informed him the offspring was a female. Jeno tilted his head, confused. He had worked with only a handful of female Venus offsprings. He was only assigned them once every blue moon because he specialized in males. The gods dramatically laughed at his confusion, “Trust us, you would not be our first choice either, but Wendy failed her mission with a female baby. Nature is replenishing herself, and Wendy is now sentenced to 145 years in the garden. No cupids are available, so you can take it, or you can leave it and serve the 145 years for Miss Wendy. You wouldn’t want that, though, am I right?” Jeno scoffed and glared at the gods.

“I’ll take it.”

_______________________________________________

Your loud cries and your mother’s pants filled the labor room. “It’s a girl!” the doctor shouts. Jeno looked down on the room and smiled. You were absolutely precious.

_______________________________________________

Every night, Jeno would watch your crib to protect you from any lurking danger. He would tuck you into bed after your mother left. Before that, though, your mother would tell you every night before you went to sleep, “Angels are watching over you.” Little did she know, she was correct.

______________________________________________

You were only 8 years old when you encountered your first bully. Jeno watched from afar, and his heart clenched at the sight of your glassy eyes threatening to spill. He had decided to take form of a younger boy to protect you. It was a risk for cupids to actually participate in their Venus baby’s life, but he simply couldn’t bear another moment in the presence of your sadness. He took into form, fought off the bullies, and comforted you. You felt so small in his arms; you felt right.

Jeno had only expected to protect you in the human boy form this one time, but you didn’t socialize much after getting bullied. So, he took it upon himself to be your companion because it would be easier to protect you, right? Changing his appearance to seem human took a lot of his cupid energy, but he endured it for you. You were so lovely and kind. He couldn’t understand why the humans didn’t fancy you, but the humankind was always confusing him, so he wasn’t surprised.

_______________________________________________

You had invited him over for a movie marathon night at your house, a tradition that you guys have religiously done since you were 8. You had put on your pjs and were patiently waiting for Jeno to show up. You heard 5 hard rhythmic knocks, a code the two of you had created when you were 10. You ran to open the door to greet him and spent the night eating snacks and watching scary movies in his arms. Jeno watched as you fell asleep. He caressed your face and your nose scrunched at the sudden touch; he couldn’t help but giggle. You were so cute. He picked you up bridal style and tuck you into bed, just like he has every night since you were born.

_______________________________________________

When you were 16 you experienced your first real crush named Chan. Jeno was petrified. He knew Chan was not your soulmate, as his halo didn’t glow brightly to indicate a Venus soulmate. He knew the moment you introduced Chan to him that there was potential for your heart to be broken. For years, Jeno had managed to subside small childish crushes, but you were gonna be an adult soon and your feelings were slipping through his fingers. His also knew his job was to protect you and guide you to your soulmate, so he demanded you to quit seeing this stupid waste of a crush.

“Y/n, are you out of your mind? He is no good for you! What do you gain from this stupid boy?!” he yelled at you.

You were greatly astounded by his harsh tone. He had never once used such tone towards you in your many years of wonderful friendship. Was this the same boy who protected you from bullies, babied you, cuddled and tucked you in all night every halloween? Your eyes became glassy, just like the first time you met him. Looking into your eyes, he realized how he had hurt you. How could he? He questioned himself. In that moment, he understood he wasn’t doing his job. Yes, he was trying to protect you, but you ignited this fire in him. You made him feel pain, in the sense of love? He had feelings for you. Impossible, he thought. Cupids were practically feelingless beings who provided the feelings. Then, he said the 3 words cupids were forbidden to say.

“I love you.”

The air was thick, and your glassy eyes softened. You took a big step towards him and pecked his lips. Jeno was alarmed but was distracted by your soft lips against his. You cannot love him; it was no good for you or for him. Your life would end short if you rejected your soulmate and loved another, especially a cupid. For Jeno, he would spend 100+ years in the garden, and the gods would torture him and strip his memories of the mission he failed. Which means he would forget you. He couldn’t risk that. He wants to remember you. Jeno pushed you off and stormed away.

You laid in bed that night sobbing. Jeno watched from above, waiting for you to sleep and tucking you in.

_______________________________________________

Countless failed attempts of contacting Jeno lead to many missed calls and pathetic voicemails. You eventually gave up, and you never saw Jeno again. You went to your dream university that Jeno granted with the snap of his fingers. You lived comfortably, and every morning you went to the same coffee shop around the corner. You were standing in line when someone bumped into you, spilling their iced americano all over your white t-shirt. He panicked, “Omg, I’m sorry! Here’s my sweater”.

You only laughed. He was tall and extremely handsome. “It’s okay, my name is y/n,” you said and took his sweater.

“I’m Johnny,” he smiled. Jeno stood above, halo shining brightly. You had met your soulmate.

_______________________________________________

Years into dating Johnny and you were beyond happy, but something in you still thought about Jeno. Jeno knew you still thought about him, but he still needed to accomplish his mission. You needed to marry and accept your soulmate. Johnny stood in the jewelry store looking for a new watch when he glanced at the wedding rings. Jeno took the chance to whisper little persuasive words in Johnny’s ear, “Do it.” Johnny blinked and bought a beautiful diamond ring. On his way to his car, he texted you. “Babe dust off that red dress. We’re going dancing”. You replied with “so sudden but ok babe lol”.

_______________________________________________

You were in your red dress, slow dancing with Johnny. You were simply just enjoying the other’s presence, when Johnny got on one knee and proposed to you. Of course you said yes, Jeno made sure of it. He watched as his plan worked from above. Not his best delivery, but it succeeded. His time with you was running out.

_______________________________________________

The day had finally come, and you were finally getting married. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, and you started to get the jitters. Do you want to marry Johnny? Are you ready? Why was Jeno on your mind; it’s been years? You panicked and started to pack your stuff. You grabbed a pen to write a letter to apologize to Johnny.

You weren’t the only frantic one. Jeno panicked and showed his true form. He grabbed your wrist before you could begin to write. You looked up and were taken back by his halo, his lack of clothes, and his huge wings. “J-jeno?” He cupped your chubby cheeks and looked dead into your glassy eyes. Oh was he was gonna miss those dazzling eyes. You were as gorgeous and beautiful as ever, he thought.

His eyes glowed a bright pink, and he began to compel you,

“I love you, but you need to marry Johnny. You won’t remember me. You fought your bullies alone, and every year you spend Halloween alone, your first crush Chan rejected you, and Jeno never existed, and you love Johnny so, so, so much. You’ll forget you tried to ran. You’re gonna walk down that aisle, get married, go on your honeymoon, have kids, and grow old with Johnny. I’m gonna kiss you and you’ll forget everything associated with me.” You were overwhelmed, and you were about to speak when Jeno kissed you and disappeared.

Your memories were wiped. You looked around. Why were your things packed? You could’ve sworn you had already unpacked. Why was there a pen in your hands? What were you gonna write down? One of your bridesmaids walked into the room, “You’ll be walking down in 10.” She looked at your lips and pointed at her own, “You have a little smear here.” You awkwardly laughed, looked in the mirror, and cleaned up. You could’ve sworn the smear wasn’t there a moment ago. Jeno watched and smiled at your confusion. Johnny is one lucky man.

______________________________________________

Again, he stood on the same cliff stretching his long white wings with a crooked and dull halo. Was this all to his life? Mission after mission with no love to share? He flew home and again the gods called for him. They were probably wondering why was he home early. His mission wasn’t finished until you said those 2 bonding words, but he couldn’t bear it anymore. Instead of going to the gods, he went to the garden, where they held prisoners and golden arrows. Cupids are immortals beings, but magic always has a loophole. Every cupid has their own golden arrow capable of taking their life. It’s what the gods used to threaten cupids into working in love labor. He grabbed his arrow when the guard was not looking and flew back to the cliff. Jeno opened a portal to watch you walk down the aisle and say your vows. God did he wish it was him you were marrying. The priest began to say his line,

"Do you, Y/n take Johnny Suh as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

“I do.”

You said those two words that bonded you to life with your Venus soulmate. Which meant Jeno had officially finished his mission.

“She no longer needs me,” Jeno spoke before he pierced his heart with his golden arrow.

_______________________________________________

2 years after your wedding, you and Johnny began to try to start a family. You were happy to find out you were pregnant and that your due date was Halloween. You don’t really know when it began or why, but Halloween has always been your favorite holiday. You had expected for a baby girl, so you chose the name Yeeun.

Like clockwork, you began to go into labor Halloween morning. Johnny rushed you to the hospital. You were emitted to a labor room and gave birth. “It’s a boy!” the doctor shouted. You and Johnny were confused, since you had been expecting a girl.

“What would you like to name this baby boy?” the nurse asked. You were in deep thought.

“Oh we haven’t thought abou-.”

You interrupted Johnny with, “Jeno, J-Jeno, yeah Jeno his name is Jeno.” You don’t know what compelled you to say such an uncommon name, but it felt familiar, comfortable even.

_______________________________________________

this was based off a dream I had so like dhjdfnnsdk

[starshine-selfships]

Local man is desperately in love with his boyfriend but thought too hard and managed to convince himself that he made up the whole romance aspect and his partner doesn't actually feel the same way, so why even continue the act? Also he's wrong and his boyfriend loves him very much and that's all there is to it 😤💕

I am not a writer, I'm an artist, but I felt like giving this a shot. Both of us use he/him and I didn't actually plan anything, so I went back and color coded my own pronouns and dialogue; I do have a version without the colors as a backup however. Tbh I don't really care about the quality since again, I basically never write, and I also wrote this 100% for myself lmao, almost stream of consciousness baybee

That being said, I'm sorry I write like a pretentious victorian poet lsjdkdkx 😣

Soft. Just like everything else about him. Soft hair he yearned to stroke and bury his face in, soft hands shaping the air as he spoke, hands he wanted nothing more than to take into his own, to lift them and press a gentle kiss upon them. He even spoke softly, almost seeming afraid to break the silence, whispering and enunciating words as though speaking a prayer. Hearing his own name spoken in that quiet, intimate tone was enough to make him light headed, immediately overtaken by the delicacy of the interaction. His gaze was the most stunning feature, as it betrayed his past with pinpoint accuracy. The witnessing of humanity's cruelty did nothing to harden his stare; his eyes shone with a purely kind demeanor, merciful and trusting.

And such was the gaze fixed upon him in this moment, and he fought the desperate urge to meet it. He knew he didn't like eye contact and couldn't bear committing such an act of disturbance. He kept his gaze averted, feeling how almost painfully strong his heartbeat had grown, his frail frame beginning to shudder under its force. The incessant pounding had to be audible, and if that alone didn't lie the entirety of his being on the floor in front of him, then the heat steadily spreading across his face surely did. His emotions outpaced him, rushing with such force so that he'd never had a chance to restrain them, instead left fighting a losing war in a desperate attempt to not give himself away.

His gaze flickered nervously back to his beloved. He maintained that gaze long enough to see him smile warmly in response, causing his chest to feel just a bit tighter, his heart to beat only more forcefully. In spite of knowing his error - maintaining that dreaded eye contact - , he couldn't look away; to do so would constitute a betrayal, a moment of recognition followed by willful ignorance. He folded his hands, attempting to return the smile but being far too shaken for it to seem genuine. His darling softly laughed at the awkwardness of the gesture, voice as warm as the morning sun. He could no longer bear the strain of his sight, squeezing his eyes shut and turning away as the laughter rang in his head.

He had to be mistaken. His feelings should not be so insurmountable, something even he couldn't fully grip. He had lost all subtlety, and for what? The slim chance of reciprocation? Did such a chance even exist? He felt as though he'd combust if he remained in that room with him. The initially sweet feelings became sickening as he steeped in them, becoming almost shameful as they continued. He shouldn't need this. He was better than this. Was he though? Why couldn't he stop himself?

Simply stand up and leave? His legs would give out underneath him. Voice his firm objections? His voice would fail him. Physically remove that boy? The very thought of using any force at all placed more weight onto his chest, thinking of the sheer guilt and regret that would come from even accidentally inflicting pain. His attentive nature and eye for detail was his strong suit, but it was also what had gotten him more attached than he'd prefer, faster than he could've ever thought possible.

Beginning with patterns and habits he'd found amusing and leading to finding beauty in his every step. From seeing him avidly read and stargaze, to noticing how the sunlight reflected off his hair, to noticing the colors on barely visible earrings, to seeing his eyes flit back and forth between him and the window. Did he find looking at him to be unpleasant? Was he put off by the antennas? The insect features? The status? The reputation? Did not knowing also keep him awake at night? Did he like music? Did he think brown eyes were pretty? Why was he allowing himself to even consider these questions?

Foreign touch immediately grounded him, his eyes snapping open as he gasped in surprise. How long had he been lost in thought? How had his love gotten so close to him? His hand was on his shoulder. He slid it along his back, unfolding his arm and allowing it to rest on him as well. His touch was delicate, as though afraid of leaving a mark, despite him touching something so much more durable than himself. The affectionate gesture - no. Was it? Or was it merely a means of comforting what could be mistaken for distress? He kept his doubts in mind, not wanting to put an irreparable dent into the connection the two already had. Though, perhaps it would be for the better if he did. Tears welled in his eyes at the very thought of having to walk away, despite knowing it would likely be the best, and perhaps the only, option.

He noticed his love's other, empty hand lifted in front of him, frozen in air, likely pondering his actions as he made them. It was admirable, having such a sense of confidence that he didn't seem to need a plan for his course of action. He merely acted and accepted the outcome regardless, without fear. Yet another curious aspect of this boy that occupied his thoughts. He silently observed, watching him lift his hand out of view, only to grace his fingertips across the side of his face, settling his hand upon his cheek. Surely, surely he could feel how unnaturally warm he'd grown. It was something that had seemed endlessly amusing to his darling, how he was cold blooded and naturally cool to the touch; the heat of the blush had to be tangible. He truly feared how much more strain would be placed on him, the mere shared presence in the room alone enough to almost kill him. The physical contact overwhelmed him so badly he really did feel about to cry.

The gentle contact of his love's hand grew more forceful; still gentle, but with pressure indicative of a voiceless request. He turned his head with the nudge to fully face his beloved, whose face was mere inches from his own. Why was he so intent on such sweet torture? Had he caught on and decided to play before going in for the kill? He committed the sin of eye contact once more. Hazel, he'd been told. That was the color he saw in dreams, of a content present and a blissful future, that color of brilliance. Why wasn't he moving? Why was he allowing this? Why was his darling's hand in motion once more? Keeping his hand on his cheek, he had slid his thumb to the side, lightly gracing his lower lip. An unspoken request. No longer able to bear the weight of his own desire, he conceded to his affections and attempted to assent. He spoke, wide eyed and unblinking, his voice almost pathetically weak, borderline pleading in a strained whisper,

"... please...",

feeling defeated, yet also quite excited. He may have lost the war, but was being offered a consolation prize that would, even though only briefly, take away the painful sting of his own internal, personal loss.

His love inched yet closer and his eyes fluttered shut, as though he couldn't bear looking away for even a moment. He closed his own eyes as well, as if in response, but this time to better perceive instead of closing himself off. He could feel the warmth radiating from the petit boy in front of him, warmer than anything his own body could naturally produce. Basking in sunlight each morning to fully wake; spending the morning next to someone so close to his heart would feel just as holy. Like the delicate sensation of sunlight on the body, he felt the motion of his beloved as his lips graced his own, before he finally settled into the kiss, still subtly caressing his cheek with his hand.

He felt a quick tear streak down his face. Gentle gestures, all of them. When it came to him, they always were. It was as though he was incapable of harm in any capacity; he seemed almost afraid of being unloving or anything less than cheerful. His natural disposition towards brightness was reflected by everyone he interacted with, making others feel welcome and putting them at ease. In that moment, he also felt at ease, in spite of his doubts and insecurity, he felt at ease, melting into the touch of his.. lover? Was it fair to call him that? In the light and warmth of the kissing, it certainly seemed so.

After a period of drawing it out, going back for more and more, he finally broke away, opening his eyes once more to examine him. He opened his own eyes, slowly and with an amount of care, almost as if he were guilty after the act and nervous about what he would see. He looked into the eyes of the boy who stared back at him as though he were the one who'd put the sun in the sky. He softly smiled as he took in the scene, feeling tears begin to pool in his eyes once more. He felt he'd had confirmation that he was being irrational, but needed evidence that was nothing short of absolutely damning before he could fully accept it. He realized he was likely making him uncomfortable by looking him directly in the eyes again, they'd had that conversation before, he knew he shouldn't, it must be so irritating-

"Your eyes are so pretty."

He froze. He froze, finally breaking down and beginning to cry. His partner was well acquainted with his tears, and he knew there wasn't much he could do to stem their flow. Even with that in mind, he still wanted to console and soothe sudden wave of emotion.

"Are you alright? Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sing-song query in a half whisper. He sniffled and looked down at his hands, fidgeting in discomfort. He didn't want to overwhelm or alarm him, so he felt it best to choose his words carefully. But even then, he felt the horrific weight of finality hanging over him.

"Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that you do love me."

Confusion, hurt, and mild surprise. His lover almost seemed to anticipate it, making his heart feel like it was sinking further.

"Elaborate."

He drew a deep breath, sighing in pain and bracing himself for if he began to cry harder. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. Barely able to speak, he forced broken sentences together, making a pathetic attempt to communicate anything at all before he dissolved into tears.

"Why?"

No response.

"Why me?"

Silence. The weight of every mistake he'd ever made was bearing down on him. Surely it was apparent how disgustingly flawed he was, not suitable-

"Well, this is a new one."

.. What?

"You really think I don't love you?"

He said it almost as though it were a joke.

"We've been together for almost two years now, and that's a choice both of us made. I can't even count how many chances I had to just, get up and walk away."

He cupped his face with both of his hands now; he lifted his own hands and placed them over his. He was crying freely, falling just short of actively sobbing.

"But I never took any of those chances. I want to be with you. You're a very sweet man and. Well it's horrible that you've got the mental conditions you do, but because we have the same kind, you've never missed a beat when it comes to making me feel better. And I wanna be able to do that for you too. You make me so happy and I wanna be able to make you feel the same way."

His head was bowed as he openly wept. He needed damning proof and it was handed to him, wrapped in ribbon and sealed with a kiss. He smiled through his tears out of sheer relief. His joy, his love, lover. The light didn't scorch and burn as he feared, but rather warmed and lifted the fog that had been enveloping him. He lifted his head once more, to look at his sweetheart with a mind unclouded by guilt.

"You don't like eye contact, you kept telling me-"

"I don't mind when you do it."

His eyes widened and his vision was once more blurred with tears. The lack of regret and remorse didn't unclutter his thoughts, and he was left unable to answer. What was there to say? Thank you? I needed to know that, despite already knowing it? My irrationality occasionally makes my life a living hell and I'm grateful for your extended patience? Admittedly, there was one thought that dominated and laid his soul bare on pure impulse-

"I love you."

"I love you too."

His lover slipped his hands out from beneath his own and motioned to encircle him in a hug, a gesture he enthusiastically returned. Resting his head against him, holding him and being held by him, knowing for certain that each step he himself took was perfectly mirrored by the boy in his arms; it was all more than he could ever ask for. He wished he could etch this moment into his memory, to never again doubt his lover or himself so deeply. While he did feel guilty for harboring such needless doubt, his partner would never be upset with him for worrying, and this he felt with certainty. Some of his many chances to leave very well were occasions where he'd been in hysterics over things that later proved to be inconsequential. He'd seen the ugliest and worst of him, yet, at the end of the day, he still chose love. His memories and the words spoken to him were perfectly interlaced, leaving no room for doubt. He was loved, and that's all there was to it.

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – forty-four🔖

{ OPEN STATUS : YES

> approved > displaying capture targets

Mammon : 100♡/100♡ Satan: 85♡/100♡ Barbatos: 0♡/100♡ Lucifer: 5♡/100♡

CLOSE STATUS : YES >approved }

You wondered where it all went wrong.

Everything had been perfect since you discovered the identity of your secret admirer. Uncovering sides of Mammon that perhaps he wasn't even aware of himself, you spent a lot of time getting to know each other, marveling at every new thing you discovered about him. You kept his love-filled words close to your heart, lingering there at times when you felt lost and perhaps even unloved. His penned words were beautiful yet poignant, hopeful yet deep which, you have eventually discovered reflected so much of Mammon himself. He often rebuffed your praises, perhaps shy of your careful observations. There would always be a blush there dusting his cheeks, colouring itself in deeper shades at every sneaky kiss. You always liked those nights when you talk about anything that pops out of your minds, and you thought he liked them too. But now, you were starting to feel doubt.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to--"

He turned away from you and covered his face with both of his hands. "This ai-- this won't…" he hesitated. "It will never work between us."

How did it come to this?

💌💌💌

Flashback to this morning when it all started.

"Mammon?" you couldn't help but reach out to him, your hand touching his cheek. ' Didn't the spell work?' you thought to yourself as you heard him stutter a 'Yes', kissing your inner palms.

"Is something amiss, my love? You look like you've seen a ghost."

So it didn't work?

You shook your head and let your hand rest on his cheek. "No…I was just wondering if you wanted to sleep some more."

Why is he still acting like this?

"If I sleep now, then it would ruin yesterday's efforts." he fiddled with something in his DDD--his email app; showing two booked tickets to Devil's Coast. Signs of the old Mammon showed in his boyish grin. "And all it took was covering for an acquaintance's shift."

"Is that why you're there yesterday?"

Mammon smiled shyly. "Yes…I wanted to surprise you. Is it too early to celebrate the conclusion of our final exams?"

You couldn't help but smile back. You planted a kiss on his lips which he happily received. "Very early. But this is a nice change of pace before Armageddon."

"Ain't that the--" he cleared his throat and quickly corrected himself. "Very true. Once this weekend is over, we are back to our old, monotonous routines."

You weren't imagining it. Something about his graceful movements really did seem off. "I'm looking forward to it!" Then again, you supposed there was a reason behind this. You decided to humour him and pretend you haven't noticed anything. "Let me wash up first and we can grab something to eat?"

"That sounds lovely."

Hoping your feigned smile wouldn't betray you, you shut the bathroom door and quickly opened your DDD to text Satan.

You looked at your own reflection in the mirror and nodded to yourself. Turtleneck it is. You learned your lesson the last time. A mixture of Mammon's toiletries and yours were in the bathroom, making you remember how he was trying his best to hide his excitement from invading half of your space the first time you talked about sharing a room. Not like his room was safe from your own stuff too--it just so happens that he likes hanging around your room lately because of how busy you were. He usually finishes his council duties early and tries (read: tried) to help you with yours, until both of you immediately realise that his bystanding was the best help he could offer. Any pouting from his side was placated with hugs and kisses, words of love he was too shy to say back and a loving gaze he couldn't help but give you when he thought you wouldn't notice. He still isn't the most honest demon when it comes to expressing his feelings, but you can see that he was trying. You just hoped that his recent gentlemanly behaviour is also a part of his trials and he isn't involved in anything dangerous.

Letting go of your nostalgia and embracing the present back in your thoughts, you wondered about the sound of shattering glass from outside. There you saw a flustered Mammon picking up the shards of what looked like Lucifer's china with his bare hands--his gentlemanly facade was nowhere to be seen.

"Mammon, no! Put that down. You'll injure yourself!" you cried, responding on instinct to take his hands into yours, throwing the shards back to the floor in the process. You snuck a look at Mammon and saw his troubled expression, bitten lips you usually noticed when he wasn't having the best kind of thoughts---or you simply dubbed as sad Mammon upon discovering it one drunken, wild and passionate night. You couldn't smell any alcohol on him this time though so you wondered what caused him to look this way.

"I'm fine…" Gentlemammon was back, albeit with a shaky voice. "Please don't worry, I still have to clean this up."

"Let me help you."

"It will heal quickly even if I get injured. There is nothing to worry about." he assured you, keeping your warning in mind, only to take it back once he saw your worried look. "I will wear gloves this time," he said as he hastily placed each pair on, a small smile forming his lips as he did so. "There, you see? I will be fine. So please step back now and I'll do it myself."

"What were you doing anyway?"

Mammon avoided eye contact. "I wanted to serve you breakfast in bed."

"That's very sweet but, you shouldn't push yourself too hard."

Silence. He continued picking up the shards, disposing of it in a trash bag nearby. "I want to push myself." You heard him sigh. "However, I suppose it's my mistake to assume I can carry this out without failure. Can I try again though?"

You didn't have the heart to reject him especially if he looked like a kicked puppy right now. "Of course! But I want to eat with you."

A compromise that he was willing to adhere to. The pancakes he made were slightly charred and oddly spicy. The Melancholy Coffee™ you praised him for making the other day tasted even worse---unpleasantly bitter that if you didn't attribute its strong, bitter taste to Mammon's love for you would have caused a gagging reflex. A feigned smile was painted on your face for the rest of breakfast, making mental notes to take stomach medicine once he is out of sight. You comforted yourself with the fact that you had a date with him today. The bitterness subsided a bit with your early morning daydreams.

Satan had been a wonderful accomplice. With his intervention, Mammon avoided bumping into anyone, thus making his situation a lot  less complicated. The avatr of wrath gave you a conspiratory smile and a wink, mouthing you well wishes for your day by your lover's side to go smoothly. You nodded and mouthed back at him a  thanks in reply. Your back and forth didn't escape notice however. You avoided Mammon's sensible questioning with a clueless smile.

"I haven't seen even Beelzebub at the dining area today. Is everyone but Satan asleep?"

Smile.

"I was going to pay back Leviathan for the money I owed him this morning. I wonder why he isn't around today…"

He will pay back?! Smile

"I wonder how my dear eldest brother Lucifer is doing--"

S-smile…

"As I thought, perhaps expecting change from me is unsightly. I'm sorry if I'm wasting your weekend by asking you out out of the blue…"

Smi--

"Wait, no!" you held him by his face and vehemently denied his claims. "I love you, Mammon! I'm looking forward to today as you are!"

Blush.

Your faces resembled tomatoes. Satan had to clear his throat to remind both of you of his presence.

"If you flirt any longer, you'll miss your bus."

"R-right…" you looked away.

"Certainly." Mammon stuttered. You felt a hand reaching out for yours, turning to Mammon who had a bashful smile. You smiled back and interlocked your fingers together.

The ride to the amusement park was awkward yet pleasant. You saw cracks in his facade a couple of times, familiar with the reluctance on his movements unlike his odd and almost unsettling finesse at the cafe. You still weren't sure if he really is still under a curse or not, or if he is and it was weakening every moment, but you decided to wait for him to address it on his own. You have recently learned that Mammon gets really flustered if you pay attention to him (bordering almost on timidity) and loses his will/drive if you let him know that you are aware of him. A few pillow talks ago, he admitted it was because he only wanted to show you his cool sides, to which you answered (with much confusion), "But you're always cool though?" and he responded with his usual remarks, ranging from "idiot" to his classic "weirdo"™. Today, much like yesterday however, there was none of that. Instead, he called you several affectionate pet names, and even bashfully shared some snacks with you that he usually considered as "indirect kiss territory", which is Mammon Code for "I ain't doin' this cos I like it, kay?" which totally meant that he was doing it because he liked the heck out of it.

"Hey Mammon," you looked at his reflection from your window seat as you spoke. "Why did you write me a letter?"

You saw him blush an adorable shade of red from the window. "What's with the sudden question?"

"I was just curious," you answered. "I didn't know you could write so well."

"I-is that so…"

"I really appreciate it, although you might be tired of hearing it already."

"...."

"I'm so glad you sent it to me. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if anyone will ever remember me once I go back to the human world." you remembered your first interaction with him and laughed. "We didn't have the best first impression of each other, didn't we?"

"...I should have treated you better."

You leaned your head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, looking up to meet his eyes. "You're doing it now and that's what matters."

You sensed sadness in his eyes for a fraction of a second before the conductor announced your stop. You must have imagined it.

💌💌💌

"Wahhh! Mammon, look! Look! Is that Red Devil?! Kyaaaa he's so cuuuute!!"

"O-oi, don't pull-- I mean…Cease! Cease!"

You couldn't help it! There was so much to see everywhere! The crowded theme park was filled with all kinds of attractions at every direction that any child or child-at-heart would definitely enjoy. Taking a photo with the park's mascot, Red Devil is one of the first activities you have done from your many planned ones on your date. Your contagious enthusiasm had infected him that by the time he realised he was grinning at every picture, it was too late. He looked oddly disturbed but you only laughed it off and reassured him that the shots were great!

"It isn't...after all, I'm--"

"Mammon?"

"It's nothing." You were beginning to feel bad for dragging him along.

"Is everything okay?" he suddenly turned pale and you asked him to sit down. "Do you want to take a break?"

He declined your offer and shook his head. "I'm fine. Let's continue our date, shall we?"

Eh?

That pose…

"The Devilish Duke?"

It was definitely the Devilish Duke from the manga adaptation of Emison Beckstein's timeless classic, The Emerald-Eyed Earl. The Devilish Duke was the protagonist's fiancé and was a minor villain in the story. He became hugely popular because of the success of the manga adaptation as well as the artist's interpretation of his design. You couldn't help but mention it right now because Mammon was currently mimicking the Duke's infamous "courtship pose", which many otakus credit for being the very first ever "kabedon".

Mammon's eyes widened once you mentioned his name and quickly pulled away. He dragged you gently to the next attraction before you could say a word.

His odd behaviour only persisted as your date went on-- a kiss on your hand near the fountains, like what Senpai-San did to Shujinko-chan in Heartbeat Memorial: My First Love, Please Notice Me Or I Will Spontaneously Combust! ; a reiteration of an infamous line from a popular otome game, Mystery Message Delivery in the ferris wheel, as well as a kiss at its top, just like Mary Sue and Gary Stu from the popular Devildom Drama, I'm a Powerful Demon But I Fell in Love with a Human?. If you weren't familiar with the references, your heart must have already given out the first time he attempted those moves at you, but since you were aware of where they're from, you couldn't help but think it was cute instead. He must have done his own research to make you happy, but it was a failure on his part to not realise that you would have been happy even if he didn't go out of his way. Then again, it was pretty unfair to complain because anything Mammon did in your own biased eyes was precious and adorable.

"I love you, Mammon." you muttered loud enough for him to hear while you were in line for the Devil's Teacups . He must have heard it because he squeezed your hand tighter as you waited.

There were still times when he persisted on keeping his Gentlemammon™ facade, much like when he declined going to the horror house with you, only for you to find out he wanted to turn you down in the first  because he wasn't very good with ghosts (You had to wait for him to defrost after turning into a literal ice sculpture when one of the ghosts grabbed him by the ankle). He also swore not to let you ride "rigorous rides", but finally let his hair down and rode all of your favourite thrill rides with his usual energy and cheer. By the time he realised this, both of you were lining up for the March of Death for the third time. You learned your lesson already and didn't make a fuss about his tiny revelation. Instead, you held him by the arm and smiled at him. "It's fun, isn't it?" Mammon looked shocked at first, but as he sighed and finally replied, you noticed he was back to his usual self.  "It certainly is." Your heart immediately deflated at his answer, but more than anything, you couldn't help but be disappointed in yourself.

He had his guard up for the rest of your date and you didn't know why. It seemed like he was forcing himself. The sun was starting to set, and the bus home had been terribly late so you had a lot of time to contemplate while waiting for it to come. Mammon had been silent, looking up at the sky as if searching for something far away. You didn't want him to wander too far so you pulled him back.

"Why have you been acting weird since yesterday. What's wrong?" you couldn't help it. You have finally ran out of patience and you're starting to take his unusual behaviour personally, which you know deep down was unfair especially with how he went out of his way today.

Mammon looked taken aback, frowning once he processed your words. "What do you mean?"

"That. Why…why are you doing that?"

"..."

When he didn't answer, you finally aired out the thoughts weighing you down. "I didn't want to ask you because I wanted you to say it first, I'm sorry. Was it because of what I said last night?"

He called your name, sounding hurt. "Do you not like it?"

You shook your head. "I meant it when I said I don't like it, you know. And I mean it in the best way!" You held him by the hand and placed it close to your chest, hoping your beating heart was already telling. "I prefer the real you."

"Do you really mean that?"

You nodded again. "I even consulted Satan yesterday to undo your curse. You...you were cursed, weren't you?"

"So it was you."

What?

"Mammon,what's going on?" What did he mean by that? You started to worry.

However, despite your repetitions, Mammon didn't answer. Instead, he only looked at you guiltily. At some point, he held your hand back with his trembling ones. He needs time, you thought to yourself and kissed his knuckles, not saying a word. Eventually, your patience was rewarded.

"...I asked the witches to curse me."

You quietly urged him to continue speaking. "I just wanted this date to be perfect, y'know? Don't wanna screw it up. I always do.

.

.

.

.

.

Now don't look at me like that. It's unfair. Ya say one thing but mean another. Even you are sick and tired of me, yeah?"

What…

.

.

.

.

.

When did you ever say that?!

It hurt. It hurts to think that Mammon ever thought you'd think of him that way. You thought you had been a wonderful lover to him, always showering him with affection and treasuring every moment you shared together. You thought he knew how much he mattered to you, but it turns out you weren't expressing yourself enough and he assumed you were lying to yourself.

"I…I never…"

Crap. Now, you can't even see him clearly. Stupid tears. You felt him wiping your eyes at every tear shed, muttering apologies as he gently held you in his arms. "Shit! I didn't mean to make ya cry. Fuck, this is why I'm such a screw up! If I coulda stayed cursed for a while longer, you'd never cry like this!"

"Mammon…I love you." you repeated those words again and again until you were satisfied. "Didn't I tell you? I love you for who you are and what you are that I have eventually found out on my own."

He didn't speak after what you said, instead he pulled you away from the hug. Despite feeling disheartened, you continued to speak. "Mammon, I don't care how long it takes for you to accept that you are all of the things I tell you. If I can lend you my eyes so you can see what kind of wonderful demon I'm seeing whenever I look at you, I'd do so in a heartbeat. I love you."

You thought this would placate him, but instead, he sneered. "Which part of me do you actually love?"

"Everything!" you answered. "I love that there is so much more to you than meets the eye---I feel thankful every day that I have been privy to see that sweet and sincere side of you, especially in your letter. True, I did not feel that way at first, but the letter, oh Mammon. I fell in love with you upon reading its first passages! No one had ever said such precious words to me in my life, so I wanted to do the same for you."

"In the end, it's always that stupid letter."

"Excuse me?"

"IT'S ALWAYS THAT STUPID FUCKING LETTER!" he shouted, immediately regretting his outburst once he saw the hurt look on your face. However hurt you looked as the truth was spoken to you, he pressed on and twisted the knife even further. If a sweet memory is a calm before your inevitable storm (read: breakup), it was better to at least tell you the truth.

"I can't see it. I can't see that wonderful demon you're always talking about---the one who wrote that letter to you." The sunset dyed his silver hair orange. "I tried seeing him. Maybe it's me who's the problem, y'know? You kept on telling me I'm all these amazin' things, but I just couldn't. All I see is...me."

"Mammon."

"You said I was sincere, but I don't remember bein' sincere at all when I was writin' that stupid thing, so I tried to be even if I was bad at it. You said I was thoughtful so I tried to be, but look at where that thoughtfulness went---tears on your fucking face." he laughed bitterly. "I'm an absolute saint, aren't I?"

"...I really meant it you know?"

" 'Course you do. That's fer sure. But lovin' a scum means he's still scum. You deserve better, and I can't give that to ya."

"But Mammon…I only want you."

Mammon's bitter smile never left his face. "Do ya really? Or do you want the Mammon who wrote you the letter?"

!!!

"See? I gotcha, didn't I?"

You don't understand. What did he get that you didn't? You love Mammon, that was the truth. You did not love him, and weren't even aware of him at first, but the letter he sent to your locker changed that. It was a catalyst for finally seeing him in a completely different light. What was the difference between the Mammon who wrote the letter to the Mammon in front of you in the first place? Aren't they one and the same? Was he joking right now? Because you certainly weren't laughing.

However many thoughts were racing in your mind right now, only three words seem to come out of you.

"I love you," and every utterance only brought more tears in your eyes, afraid of the possibility that Mammon must have been feeling the same way right now.

You were tired. Tired of explaining it to him, tired of reassuring him that he was fine the way he is. Every 'I love you' was like a dagger to your heart, growing conscious of the fact that both of you may feel the same way, but both of your feelings weren't reaching each other at all.

In your exasperation, you couldn't help but finally say,

"I don't want this anymore."

You wondered where it all went wrong.

Everything had been perfect since you discovered the identity of your secret admirer. Uncovering sides of Mammon that perhaps he wasn't even aware of himself, you spent a lot of time getting to know each other, marveling at every new thing you discovered about him. You kept his love-filled words close to your heart, lingering there at times when you felt lost and perhaps even unloved. His penned words were beautiful yet poignant, hopeful yet deep which, you have eventually discovered reflected so much of Mammon himself. He often rebuffed your praises, perhaps shy of your careful observations. There would always be a blush there dusting his cheeks, colouring itself in deeper shades at every sneaky kiss. You always liked those nights when you talk about anything that pops out of your minds, and you thought he liked them too. But now, you were starting to feel doubt.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to--"

He turned away from you and covered his face with both of his hands. "This ai-- this won't…" he hesitated. "It will never work between us."

*beep!*

"Get on first. I'll catch up with ya."

"...okay."

How did it come to this?

💌💌💌

You didn't know how you were able to get home that night. You couldn't even remember the people you spoke to before you went back to your room. The side of your bed was empty of Mammon as well as your heart.

You didn't realise that you hurt him. You might have meant well and were even truthful of your affections for him, but the truth still laid there, mocking you in the face--you were idealising him. You thought you knew him by a few reads of the scented passages of his letter, that you refused to see him for who he really is. Oh, what a hypocrite you are.

His question continued to linger in your mind as you retrieved the said letter from your drawer. You didn't have the heart to read what it says anymore.

Why does it matter? It's all over.

Thinking in that vein, you sighted the gas lamp near your table and started entertaining darker thoughts.

Why not just forget about everything?

[ What will you do? ]

💌Burn the letter

💌Hesitate

💌masterlist

[esamastation]

Because i am writing it and wanna see what people think

Sneak preview of hithertho unnamed sequel to “True” Reality 

Nothing is True.

Nothing is there.

Desmond doesn't so much float in the nothingness as he… just… is. He doesn't know how long it's been, he's kind of lost the sense of why of it, too. He thinks he minded it, way back when, an eternity ago, he wanted to leave, maybe? It doesn't really matter. Nothing matters. There's nothing.

Well, that's not exactly true. Not True true, just true. There's something – just enough of a something for him to still be sticking around. It's like a string inside him, a cord frayed to its last sliver, gently waving in the nonexistent wind, just enough to remind him that, that he's still there. He's not gone yet. He's here, here is nothing, and he's in the nothing.

No one would ever see him here. No one would find him. And no one would care.

The Lonely savours him slowly, digesting his slowly ebbing, flowing misery like a tasty morsel. He's a candy on it's tongue, and it's wearing him out slowly, so slowly, tasting every aspect of his Aloneness and humming with the drawn out enjoyment.

The knowledge that he was always alone. Surrounded by what amounted to paper cutouts of people, rather than real individuals. They stand up in his memories now like stand-ins, all hollow and two-dimensional, repeating the same hollow, meaningless words.

Get up, Desmond, the words echo, sharp enough to cut, to bring forth a reaction, to make him twitch. Dad, calling him across the training ring. Get up, Desmond, he says, and never holds out his hand, never helps him up, never does anything. Get up, Desmond, he snaps, impatient enough for Desmond to hear it in his voice, but also distracted, like he's looking elsewhere, his attention on something else, like whether Desmond actually gets up or not doesn't actually matter. Get up, Desmond.

And the Loneliness whispers, No one ever asked if you needed help. No one offered a hand to pull you up. Did anyone ever give you their arm, their shoulder to lean on? Did anyone ever lift you to your feet? Did they hold you?

His mother's hands, cool and perfunctory on his cheek as she dabs stinging antiseptic on a cut. Her fingernails feel like paper cuts, and her disapproving tutting sounds like distant static. "It's just a cut, and you're a big boy, Desmond, you don't need my help."

Desmond knows, theoretically, that his mother helped him. He remembers it. But he also remembers the holes in those memories, the parts where they don't exist. Dad is easier, Bill Miles actually made an appearance in his life, such as it was, but his Mother is only a voice. Voice, and vast holes of absence, where the game creators hadn't bothered to fill up his background. Seventeen years worth of memories.

The Lonely has filled them, bit by bit, with cold shoulders from her, with dismissal, with distracted disregard as she turns away. Just enough care to make him feel it, a hand on his shoulder, a band aid on his lip, just enough to make him long for more – and then the Lonely takes the image and turns her away from him, leaves him at the mercies of a father, who turns more and more callous and cold as the memories twist and turn and...

You were a thing they raised, a fruit of labour, the culmination of a bloodline. They married for lineage, not love, they didn't love each other, they didn't love you – you were just a thing they made, an Assassin of Assassins, the Assassin, their Chosen One, alone and strange and…

Desmond drifts. He thinks he might be floating. He has enough will left to know that this is kind of – not wrong, exactly, though it's that too. The Lonely wants his suffering, his slow anguish, his Loneliness, his Aloneness, his Solitude – and his knowledge of it, too. Wants to make him feel it.

But it doesn't come naturally for him. He can feel it, but it's artificial, in the end. Those people never existed, and those experiences never happened, and he knows it. He knows what he is. The Lonely can't take that away from him – it's the main thing it's feeding on.

He's a Solitary Existence, artificial, hollow, fake, empty, the Lonely can digest him forever. So it won't make him think he's human, not all the way. Whenever he threatens to tip over the edge of that knowledge and into delusion of humanity, it reminds him – he's just code, code, code, nothing but symbols on a screen, unloved and unreal, a thing no one knew, a thing that shouldn't be – and that breaks the illusion of suffering.

Desmond sighs, and the Lonely drinks it up all the while breathing in on it, like blowing on a hot coal, making it blaze in his chest. Alone, alone, alone, and unknown.

Desmond has no idea how long it's been going on. Doesn't know if there's time in this place. There probably isn't. The Lonely can and will feed off on him forever, and he's more or less… fine with that. Would be nice if it wouldn't try and fake it, though – it doesn't feel right.  He knows loneliness and isolation, and it can be so nice. So much nicer than fake social isolation. He's never minded social isolation, it's never done that much for him. Sure, he was sad, at times, but true isolation, the feeling of being properly removed from everyone and everything…

That's sweet.

Desmond jerks in the Nothing and in the Emptiness, and around him the Lonely shifts and breathes. There's – something. Like a tug in Desmond's chest, in his soul – in his code screen, or whatever it is he has. The empty space that's his body is feeling a drag, though. It kind of feels like he's - 

Gasping, Desmond convulses and grabs at his chest, as the Lonely disperses like so much mist around him, and the faked illusions of social isolation and dismissal fade. There's a tether – Desmond can almost see it, and he can definitely feel it. Someone's got a hand around his story and is tugging at his words, at the strings of his code, and he's -

Out there, someone Knows him.

He's Known.

He's Seen.

The string is tugged – and then released. Desmond stares in dismay as it goes taut and then snaps, withering away like smoke in the wind – the mist of the Lonely eats it up, wears it out, until Desmond is left holding just a – a bit of it, hanging from his chest. It's – thin, and black, plastic.

A… tape? It's thin and flimsy and takes Desmond a bit to actually remember what it is, but… yeah, it's tape. Cassette tape. "Huh," he says out loud, as the thin flimsy string of it loops loosely over his fingers, almost too light to be felt. Been – never, since he's seen this stuff, actually.

"Statement of Desmond Miles," the cassette tape announces into his fingers in a firm, brisk male voice. "Regarding his… existence…"

Desmond's skin crawls and he knows, instinctively, that it's Another. Another what, he's not sure, but it's Another. It feels like – like sandpaper against his senses, like anathema, but also like kin. It's a weird mixture of sensations, not entirely pleasant nor unpleasant. Kind of… tingly, like an itch that's satisfying to scratch.

It has to be the story, the one he made to the Eye, just like that old guy said – that has to be – someone out there, someone with power, just did something with his story. Recorded it on tape maybe? He isn't sure, but…

He has his hands again. And legs. So that's kind of nice.

Slowly, shakily, Desmond finds his feet enough to stand on them, peering around curiously. The Nothingness hasn't changed, the Lonely is still there, looming upon him, wishing to smother him, but – he's Known now, and that changes things.

"You're hungry," he says, which – is probably a weird thing to say, but it's what he feels. "I'm sorry, I'm not that kind of meal. I don't fear being lonely – it's all I've ever been. Can't fear the only thing you've ever known."

The Lonely doesn't answer, of course not, but it leans in, hungry and withering, whimpering and savouring. No one loves you. it whispers in his own voice, which is right enough. No one wants you. You're safe here. No one can hurt you here.

They're not really things it's saying, though, more like stuff his mind is saying at himself, as a placeholder for the things it craves. It kind of – it has the feel of a petulant, lonely child, mumbling into its knees, bitter and unintelligible.

The weird thing is, though it's been slowly digesting Desmond for eons, now, Desmond kind of feels bad for the thing. It's pitiful. Lonely things usually are… at least until they learn to live with it. And Desmond did, a long time ago… given the value of living, maybe, but… still.

"Here," Desmond murmurs, and gives the Lonely not his sadness, because he doesn't really have any to give, but his… serenity, the masochistic, drawn out edge of it – the moments spent alone in his flat, feeling self-righteously bitter about having to turn down an invitation to a party because someone was filming there. He feeds the Lonely the moments in abandoned gas stations when he was at his most desperate, his most alone, and with no one to turn to he turned inward instead, and felt worse for it. The moments of dissociation just after using the Animus, when he felt disconnected from everything, body and soul…

The Lonely flexes around him, and Desmond draws a shuddering, shocked breath. "Yeah," he croaks, shaky. "Now you get it." His mouth feels like dry parchment and tastes like mothballs at the end of a cabinet that hasn't been opened in decades – like an empty tomb in an abandoned castle, where Altaïr sat alone for centuries. "Isn't that better?"

The Lonely lets him go, and Desmond grips the shredded cassette tape in hand, and turns to follow it out.

-

So, Desmond the avatar of the Lonely? Taking place somewhere early on season 4 of the Magnus Archives. Yeah.

[in-class-daydreams]

Parlay (Kuroo x Reader) | Chapter 5

-Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~2,300

Genres: Fluff, angst if you squint, general buffoonery

CW: Some more swearing, secondhand embarrassment lol

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kozume Kenma. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma’s volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay’s stakes only get higher each time.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next 

Grandmother had nearly given herself a stroke from agreeing so fast to (Y/N)’s request for a half shift that day.

“Is it for school? Is it for friends? Oh, (Y/N)-chan, is it for a man or a woman?” the old woman bombarded the girl she treated like a grandchild with questions. It was rare for (Y/N) to take a day off, much less request one. She shook her head.

“Nothing like that, Gran. My friends invited me to watch their volleyball game. Our school is very highly ranked.”

“Ah, your Tooru-kun plays on that team, doesn’t he?” (Y/N) watched as Grandmother cut a mango into slices and presented them on a bed of sticky rice. The young girl served the dish to a table by the window: a young father and his young daughter.

“The usual, for my favorite father-daughter duo!” she smiled sweetly at the pair. The father looked up from his computer.

“Thank you, (Y/N)-san. Look, Miki! What’s this?” he asked his 2-year-old. The little brown-haired girl looked away from the window to meet her father’s gaze. She had plump little rosy cheeks streaked with dried milk.

“Mangey!” she chirped. Before her father could react, the child had taken a fistful of mango and shoved it mostly into her mouth, though, the majority ended up on those round cheeks of hers. The man sighed, but not without a nonetheless adoring look at his daughter.

“I’m glad she likes it, “ (Y/N) giggled, “I’ll be back to check on you two in a few minutes, Suzuki-san.”

Making her way back to the kitchen, leaning against a side table covered in clean glass cups, (Y/N) took a moment to bask in the warm embrace of the place that felt like her true home. The kitchen was smaller than most tea houses of that size and of that popularity than the average place would normally have. Grandmother, however, made sure the place was immaculate. (Y/N) looked over the small plastic bins of ingredients, each one placed based first on health code requirements, then by frequency. Filling for songpyeon took up the largest bin. Continuing her conversation with Grandmother, she said, “Yes, Tooru is on that team,” she chuckled, “They practically begged him to play for them.” Grandmother dried her hands on a dish towel.

“Well, if you ever manage to pull him off the court, feel free to bring him around. That boy’s always neglected to eat,” the old woman griped.

Opening her mouth to reply, the ringing of the front door bell interrupted (Y/N)’s reply. With a quick swipe her hands over her apron, she swung out of the kitchen and greeted their new guests.

“Welcome in-- Oh! Hi, you two! Welcome in.” Before her stood her best friend and roommate and his tall, stressfully attractive childhood friend. Kenma’s dyed-blonde hair was mostly grown out - he’d been too busy (and too lazy) to get it redone. Kuroo’s catlike eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

“Good morning, (Y/N)-san.”

“Hi, (Y/N).”

The female led the two boys over to a booth across from the kitchen entrance. Away from the volleyball players’ line of sight, the other three servers working today poked their heads out from the kitchen doorway. Chisato, Grandmother’s actual granddaughter, was fanning herself dramatically, while Shusei and Tamaki were busy ogling Tokyo U’s handsome spiker. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at them. The boys took the menus she handed them.

“Can I start you two off with anything to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“Just a water,” because they were in college, and broke ass college students can’t afford not-water.

Kenma didn’t even open his menu before handing it back to her.

“Something with pork,” he said, after which he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his emails.

Without batting an eye, the server girl replied, “You got it!” Then, she turned to Kuroo.

“Would you like something specific or if you want, you can give me a general preference like Kenma did, and I’ll give you something you’d like.”

The menu was somewhat thick for a tea house, which Kuroo noticed was because they didn’t just have one country’s dishes, as Chisai’s selection contained an incredible variety.

Now, Kuroo wanted to say either, ‘I trust your judgement’, or ‘I’ll enjoy whatever you put on the table in front of me.’ Sadly, the poor mess of a boy was so preoccupied with thinking about how the girl in front of him was definitely not super adorable in her white collared-shirt and her totally not endearing plaid apron, much less how absolutely unlovable it was that she had flour in her hair from tucking it behind her ear so often. He ended up making a strangled choking sound and saying, “I table.”

Everyone blinked. Forget being a cat, Kuroo fought to repel his inner badger that wanted to dig a hole, crawl inside, and never come out. Kenma was turning red keeping his laughter contained, and as if the universe hadn’t decided it wanted to be a complete dick to the wild-haired boy, he accidentally glanced up at (Y/N)’s cute expression with her brows furrowed, and her lips puckered in confusion.

‘Ahhhhhhhh,’ he thought as his brain short-circuited. Finally, finally, (Y/N) smiled at him gently.

“It’s alright, I do that a lot. Try again?” Oh sweet Karasuno’s resident Jesus, what a sweetheart. Desperate to redeem himself, Kuroo cleared his throat.

“Ahem, I-- Uh-- What’s your favorite dish here?”

‘Amazing job, Tetsurou. You fucking nailed that, Tetsurou. You, sir, are a smooth criminal,’ he told himself. (Y/N)’s bright expression from his question was almost worth making a fool of himself. Almost.

“Ah! Well, I love everything here, and I promise I really do, I’m not contractually obligated to say that, hehe, and it really depends what you prefer personally - everything is delicious.” Kuroo’s soul left his body when she shuffled to his side and leaned over him slightly to point at specific dishes on the menu. She smelled of fresh linen and of fresh baked goodies.

‘Hngggghhhhh, smell good, good smell,’ the poor boy’s brain cells were failing him at the moment, and had been for the past couple of minutes.

“So, if you like shrimp, the har gao comes in orders of 4 and they’re more filling than they look--” (Y/N)’s voice faded away as Kuroo’s brain kept trying to figure itself out like a computer with too many open tabs and had a software virus called, ‘(Y/N) Smells Divine And It’s Not Fair.exe.’ Kuroo knew he was better than this. He knew he was charming and likable. There was no reason for him to totally crumble like he was. From knowing Kuroo so long, Kenma could tell he was struggling, and, out of pity, he lightly kicked his ankle so the girl above him wouldn’t notice. Luckily, that little jolt woke him up enough to catch the tail end of her explanation.

“--you can get it with egg noodles, which I love personally, and Gran gets the duck from a nearby vendor, so you know it’s fresh. It’s especially popular around this time since it’s getting a bit cold,” she finished. It looked like he hadn’t been zoned out for too long. Steeling himself, Kuroo shifted in the cracked burgundy seat.

“That last one sounds great, thank you,” he croaked. Taking the menu from him, (Y/N) told them their order would be out “in a jiffy,” and Kenma’s wheezing stopped him from short-circuiting again.

“What-- Hah-- What was that?” he cackled. Kenma didn’t laugh very hard. Even when he watched Plant compilations or looked at memes, he mostly just blew air through his nose, at best, but here, Kuroo was starting to worry about the shade of blue his friend was turning.

“I--uh” Kuroo started, ‘got distracted by the way she was being adorable and the way her perfume--NO! Tetsurou! BRO-CODE!’. “I’m just a little out of it today I guess.”

“Clearly. You stumbled your words in front of (Y/N) like a panini-head.”

Kuroo couldn’t deny that statement one bit. How had he managed to look like such a panini-head? Why now of all times? Was he nervous? God forbid if he thought he might have a slight crush on this girl because for heaven’s sake he wasn’t about to break the sacred Bro-Code. Before he could go off on his own tangent, (Y/N) walked over to their table carrying a couple of plates in her hands.

“Alrighty, so I’ve got the house cha siu bao for Kenma, and the egg noodle soup with roast duck for Kuroo-san. Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“I’m good for now thanks, (Y/N)” Kenma replied as he quickly began eating the fresh, hot pork buns.

“It looks great!” Kuroo responded, his face gleaming with excitement and anticipation of how the food will taste. His expression suddenly changed to a sly smirk, “but you know (Y/N)-san, this meal would be much better if you join us~”

‘Nice, I’ve redeemed myself. Ten points to gryffindor.’

“I’m sorry Kuroo-san, but my shift doesn’t end for another couple of hours. If I end early, I might not be able to make it to the game like I promised.” (Y/N) smiled back innocently.

Before Kuroo was able to say anything, he heard Kenma let out a small, “Pft, rejected”, from beside her.

‘Aaaand, just kidding’

Kuroo miraculously recovered, somehow, and managed to say, “Ah I see. Well thanks for the food, I’m really looking forward to it!”

“Of course! Please enjoy, and let me know if you guys need anything else.” And with that, (Y/N) went back to the kitchen to get more food to serve to customers.

Kenma was deep into his second pork bun when Kuroo dug into his own meal. The duck was perfectly moist with a savory skin. The egg noodles were boiled to a perfect texture. He could’ve wept. The exquisite flavor of the egg noodle soup distracted him from his horrific failure as a human being just a moment ago. Once he’d sated his appetite, he leaned back in his chair. The setter across from him looked totally boneless, a satisfied smile on his face. Kuroo rolled his head over towards the window.

There, the young lady that had been messing with his mind all day was squatting in front of an adorable little girl while the girl’s father laughed heartily across from them. The little girl clapped in delight at the funny faces the waitress was making for her. Kuroo’s heart beat a little faster.

“You’re staring.” Kuroo jumped. Kenma’s intelligent eyes were boring into his soul. Suddenly feeling even guiltier than he already was, Kuroo looked away.

“Kenma, I swear I—“

“Relax. She’s cute. Flirt, stare, call yourself a table, I don’t care.”

Kuroo spluttered at the reminder of his royal screw up. Then, he was puzzled at how Kenma could be so nonchalant about anyone looking at his girlfriend like that, especially his own best friend. He knew for a fact that if Kenma truly didn’t like his ogling at his super cute girlfriend, he would have said something. Maybe they were one of those open relationship-type things? Sounded pretty odd for Kenma, but Kuroo supposed that people change in college. If he were in Kenma’s place, though, he doubted he’d be so willing to share (Y/N)’s affection. Not that he wanted it, of course. Nuh uh, no ma’am.

When (Y/N) gave them their check, they tried to politely decline taking her generous discount, but once she threatened to bring Grandmother from the kitchen, they ended up just tipping her a little extra to make up the difference and exiting the tea house.

~~

“HEY, HEY, HEY.” The ace spiker with the interesting hair crowed as he landed after a vicious spike that went untouched by the other team. Tokyo U’s other team members came together and gave a quick cheer before quickly resuming their positions.

“Damnnnn, how the hell is this entire team so fine?” Shusei moaned.

“Mm, especially that number 6. He’s so pretty,” Tamaki nibbled on her thumb nail.

“Ooh, the handsome guy from this morning is up!”

(Y/N) blushed as Kuroo rotated into the front row. Gone was the stuttering, flustered mess from earlier, and he was replaced by Nekoma High’s scheming captain, all fire in his eyes ,and supported by skill and years of experience. (Y/N) leaned against the rail. Something about that focused look in his eyes captivated her completely.

Kuroo was an excellent blocker. He was smart and had the technique to support it. But despite this, the other team had powerful spikers and was starting to close the gap just enough to make the crowd uneasy. The coach leaned over and whispered something to one of the managers, who scurried off through the door to a side gym.

(Y/N) had already been a little (a lot) thirsty since Kuroo stepped on the court, but Akaashi tossed the ball into the air, Kuroo jumped up, and hit a straight right by the blockers. Suddenly, the gym air felt too stale, her cardigan too hot.

“Ohhhh my goddddd.” (Y/N) shushed Shusei and Tamaki’s moaning.

“Jealous much?” Shusei sassed.

“Wha—? Just— Just stop being weirdos!” she said louder than expected.

Tamaki wiggled her eyebrows, “Oh, so you admit you were jealous?”

(Y/N)‘s face felt hot. Her retort was interrupted by squealing all around them.

“Kyaaaaaa!”

“Omg he’s here!”

“I want his babies!”

…yeah, people get weird when they’re thirsty.

Shusei cheered and clutched Tamaki’s shoulders, “Whooo! What are we screaming about?”

“Some things never change,” Tamaki mused.

“Bitch, what?”

They stopped their bickering when their friend chuckled. She had a fond look in her eyes, but they also held something else they couldn’t quite place. (Y/N) smiled softly. She turned to them, “The Grand King loves making a grand entrance.”

~~

(A/N): You know who’s coming soon, and I’m really excited about this next chapter! Thank you all for the support you’ve shown us so far in the series, and please look forward to the next few chapters as well! Chapter 6 is planned to be released in about two days or so. See you guys soon!

- Admin Kiwi-Chan

Kuroo, honey, I’m so sorry to do this to you lol. I make this boy do stupid stuff in this series, but it’s fiiiine.

- Admin Mango-Chan

~~

Taglist: @joyful-jimin @nekomas-kuroo

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Olly Olly Oxenfree (part five)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

im going to heaven with or without you

“Joan?”

Joan giggled in her daze, lolling her head back and forth across the sand. Except, the sand felt a lot harder than it should be...and it was so cold all of a sudden...and she couldn’t see the glow of the sunlight behind her eyelids.

“Joan!”

Joan’s body jolts awake for the second time that night. She sat up so quickly it sent a miniature gun salute popping and cracking up her spine.

“Joan? Are you okay?”

Cathy is kneeling beside her. She has her hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were deeply worried.

“You kinda- you kinda went weird for a few minutes.” Her sister said. “I thought I lost you.”

“No, I’m- I’m fine, Cath. Promise.“ Joan assured her.

“Nothing new hurts?”

“Nothing new hurts.”

Cathy nodded and stepped back, pulling Joan to her feet.

“What happened?” Cathy asked.

“I-” The words caught in Joan’s throat. The memory of what exactly went down flash through her mind. “I saw my sister again.”

Cathy’s eyes widen.

“Holy shit.” She said. “Okay- okay- explain it to me. Can you do that? Will you be okay to?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joan nodded. “We were...we were on the beach on some random Saturday. Catalina was there. It was...amazing.”

Cathy got a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Was it good— I don’t even know how to say this without... I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

So many emotions were whirling through Joan’s mind- sadness, grief, closure, pain, misery, anger, longing. There was too much for her to process and it made her brain feel like it was going to burst apart in her skull.

“It was good to see her again,” She whispered. “It just— it sucks that she’s not- she’s not here, I guess. That’s all.”

Cathy gave her a quick, but tight hug.

“It’ll all be over soon, Joan. Don’t worry.”

Joan nodded.

Now that she somewhat had her bearings collected, she and Cathy began moving again.

They met up with Anne and Kitty at the bottom of the hill leading up to the field. Just a few yards behind them, the Lee Estate gate looms behind them.

“Great! You didn’t, uh, die!” Kitty said.

“Did it work?” Anne asked. “Did you get the key?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Cathy answered. “It’s actually a radio. Apparently it can open mechanical locks or something. Show’em, Joan.”

Joan nodded and took out the new radio. She walked up to the gate, seeing a small mechanical plate with three pieces of a pyramid on it. She began to tune in and, on channel 56, the parts of the pyramid lit up.

The gate swung open.

“Cool!”

“Wow.”

“Neat!”

Those were the chimes from the other three.

“Please have a boat, please have a boat, please have a boat...” Anne muttered as they all passed into the Lee property.

The salty tang of the sea was as sharp there as it was on the beach. Land broke away and became a wooden boardwalk, which creaked loudly with each footstep pressed against the boards. The black ocean churned loudly below the four of them. It sent spirals of anxiety through Joan, but she tried to stamp them down.

“A boat!” Anne cried in relief. “Oh, thank god. The keys are probably inside the house, which is HUGE by the way!”

She was right. The house was big. How some old woman got the money to pay for it was beyond all of them.

After finding that the door was locked, but had a tune in symbol, Joan took out the radio.

She didn’t like how much she was having to use it.

107.1

“That is a nifty gizmo.” Anne said as they all herded inside.

Surprisingly, it was quite warm inside the house, which was a relief because the temperature was definitely dropping outside. The four teenager scampered through the foyer and to the living and dining area, where they were hoping to regroup and maybe find someone to eat or drink (none of them had noticed how hungry they were before). However, all they ended up finding was a figure in one of the armchairs.

“There you guys are!”

“Oh my god!” Cathy shrieked. “You scared me!”

“Catalina!” Kitty rushed up to the older girl, nearly knocking her over in a hug. “Jesus! I was so worried about you!”

Catalina blinked and stumbled, slightly stunned by the sudden contact, but then she laughed softly and stroked the top of Kitty’s head. The girl nuzzles her face even closer, tightening the hold.

“I’m okay, Kitty. I promise.” Catalina told her.

“Wait—”Joan said. “How...did you get in? The door was locked. Did you have a radio?”

“No, I didn’t have a radio.” Catalina said, looking at Joan absurdly. “The kitchen window was open. I climbed in.”

“And the fence?”

“I jumped it. I’m not as dainty as you think, Johanne.”

Joan scanned Catalina over. The older girl has always been an amazing liar, but she didn’t seem to be hiding anything...at that moment. She nodded softly.

“Alright, Catalina’s here, great!” Anne said. “Everyone start looking. Find something and hope that it helps.”

They break.

Joan and Cathy went upstairs, finding a string for a pulldown ladder, which Cathy very helpfully called a “cat toy”. They climb up it, finding a musty old attic and a chest in the far back.

A chest with a padlock.

“Of course.” Joan sighed, then muttered, “Paranoid old woman...” She walked back down the ladder and made her way to the exit of the house. “Hey, Cath. How are you doing?”

“How are you doing?” Cathy fired back at her.

“As crappy as everyone else.” Joan said. “I feel like I just got run over by a truck. With acid wheels.” She paused. “If that makes sense.”

Cathy laughed. “I got it. I think everyone feels the same. We’ll make shirts when we get home!” She quickened her pace to walk right beside Joan as they stepped off of the front porch. She placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay.”

Joan can only manage a wry, barely-hopeful smile.

They walk down the front path and back down to the boardwalk. On their way to the basement, they stop by the boat docks to check in on Catalina and Kitty, who were having a friendly conversation to pass the time.

“Hey, Kit,” Joan said, walking up to the younger girl first.

Kitty smiled at her. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

“As steady as she goes.”

Kitty leaves it at that. Joan moves on to Catalina.

“Catalina.”

“Your Highness.”

Joan’s mind flashes back to the time loop in front of the tunnel, however she can’t muster up even an ounce of anger or rage. When she looks into Catalina’s eyes, so unloving, unlike in her flashback memory, any ember she may have conjured gets instantly smothered and replaced by freezing cold misery.

“For the eight hundredth time— and I don’t know why I have to keep trying to sell you on this, but here it goes— Maria wasn’t my fault.”

Catalina crossed her arms, and Joan prepared for a vicious hurl of flaming words, but she just sighed and looked dejectedly at the murky water. Maybe she’s imagining what it must have been like for Joan on that day.

“If that’s what you believe in, I guess.” She finally said.

There’s a momentary burst of flame, but a rock to the boardwalk from a particularly big ripple puts it out. Catalina looks upset, Joan realizes. She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she just turns and walks to the basement. Cathy trails quietly behind her.

“Find anything useful?” Joan asked, stepping inside the stale-smelling basement. Cathy goes to check out a desk as she speaks with Anne.

“Nothing yet, but the night’s still young.” Anne answered. She’s definitely calmed by degrees since the argument on the tower, but Joan can still see betrayal glinting behind her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Joan pressed. She wanted Anne to know she still cared about her. “Physically, I mean. Everyone looks like they’ve got the flu.”

They were all pale- too pale for it to be healthy. It as if their blood was slowly being drained from her body as the night progresses, leaving it blanched and cold. The only color that remained on their faces were their eyes, although very dull and void, like scratched gemstones, and the pink flush that dusted their cheeks. There was the shaking, too- the incessant trembling of their limbs, but they all knew it wasn’t from the cold. Not really.

“Why do you care?” Anne snapped. She marches past Joan to inspect a projector. “Seriously,” She whips her head around to look at Joan. “why didn’t you let me go with you to Main Street? Did I do something that bad?”

The hurt in her eyes returns. The pinch against Joan’s aorta does, too.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I’m sorry.” Joan said. “I just thought you needed a breather. I mean, an hour earlier you were literally possessed!”

“That-” Anne processes it. “-it true. That is true. But it was still annoying!”

Joan went to say something else, but Anne turns away to dig through a shelf. She sighed and regrouped with Cathy, who managed to find a padlock code in a desk, so they make the hike all the way back up to the attic and opened up the chest.

Inside were the keys, which made Joan’s heart leap in joy, but also a map of the caves.

“Tune into the signal.” Is what the page said and, as Joan was reading this as she and Cathy made their way back downstairs, a glitchy wave contorted the entire house.

Joan is back in the attic.

“Joan...”

That was Catalina’s voice.

“Oh, Joan...”

She was calling to her.

“Come down here please. We have something we want to show you.”

Joan didn’t want to move, she wanted to huddle up and hide in that attic until dawn, but she feared what would happen to her if she didn’t obey, so, slowly, she crept down the attic ladder.

Out of her peripheral vision, she notices two bodies- Anne in the study and Kitty in the bedroom. Joan rushes to her best friend first.

The spacebun girl is slumped low in a chair, her limbs completely limp and her head sagging.

“Anne, come on, babes! We got a boat to catch!”

Anne does not stir.

Joan goes to Kitty, next. The girl in sprawled in a position on the floor that looked painful. Her muscles were probably straining just to keep her in that form. Like she cousin, her eyes were shut.

“Kitty, let’s go! We gotta motor!”

Kitty does not move.

Joan hurried down the stairs. She found Cathy’s barely in a chair. Her legs were bent on the floor, and the only thing keep her body up was the way she was propped on the seat cushion.

“Come on, Cathy, I— I need you! Don’t blank out on me now!”

Cathy does not wake.

Joan backed up slowly. The thought that all three of them may have been dead hit her like a freight train.

“Ah.”

A voice from behind.

“There you are.”

Joan turned slowly.

There is Catalina, standing in the dining room. She almost looked normal. Aside from the glowing red eyes of course.

“Now, we imagine you’re a bit confused.” She said. “But don’t fret. This will be the final part of your training, Joan.”

“𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦����𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕤.” Chimed the radio in Joan’s pocket.

“Training?” Joan echoed. “I-I don’t want to be-“

“You signed up for this, Johanne.” Not-Catalina got her off.

“̧. Lêåvê. þð§§ïßlê.”

“So please,” Not-Catalina continued. “I cannot bear your excuses, offspring.” Her voice is flitted and splotched with stinging irritation.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Joan said. “How many times do you want me to say it? I had no idea what would happen!”

Not-Catalina held her hands up in a calming gesture, then set one on Joan’s shoulder. The touch was icy cold.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She said. “Trust us on that.” Joan doesn’t budge beneath her hand. She goes on: “The test is easy. We-”

Ninety-six figures appear all throughout the house, eyes glowing, bodies flickering in the darkness that holds them. They disappear as quick as they came.

“-will speak of something we see in the house and you will go and find it. See? As simple and good-humored as your mother’s apple pie.”

Joan doesn’t answer. Not-Catalina draws her hand back.

“Let’s start off with something easy.” She said. “I spy with my little eye...radiation.”

Joan jars out of her daze.

Catalina began to count down.

Joan started to search the house frantically. It was difficult having to pass by her friend’s bodies- she nearly tripped over Anne’s strewn-out legs.

Finally, as Not-Catalina hit three, she went with the only thing she could think of.

“Is it- are you talking about the TV?”

“Very good! Well done!” Not-Catalina praised. “Now, next... I spy...a knot.”

The countdown began again.

Joan searches, but she couldn’t find a damn knot anywhere in the house. It didn’t help that it felt like she was upside down again.

“One.”

Joan’s stomach coiled painfully.

“Johanne. What a disappointment you’ve turned out to be.”

A grandfather clock chimes loudly.

Cathy’s body began to shudder.

“No! Don’t do anything to her!”

But They didn’t listen.

In the blink of an eye, Cathy is gone.

“Aw, your new sister.” Not-Catalina cooed in pity.

“Bring her back!!” Joan cried. Tears edge her vision. “Right now!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear.” Not-Catalina said. “As they say- what’s done is done. And now, it’s time for the bonus round, Joan. Stay sharp. I spy a memory.”

Joan’s mind flashes.

She staggers away from where Cathy used to be and up the stairs. Not-Catalina is watching her from the study, by Anne’s body, as she hobbles to the bedroom and stairs at a photo on the wall.

“The picture.” She croaks.

“Very good. Very nice.” Not-Catalina purred. She appears beside Joan and pats her head like you would a dog. “That’s a picture of Margaret Lee and her friend, Anna. You see... you and your schoolyard chums are experiencing— well, this has sort of happened before.” She turned her head to photo. “Maggie and Anne tried to...sport with us many years ago. And, well...”

Images flash by Joan’s eyes.

“Only one survived.”

Not-Catalina turned and began walking back down to the living room. She seems to drag Joan along by an unseen force.

“But in the process, we discovered a way to return, so to speak.”

They both stop.

“It just takes a little time.”

“What happened to Anna?” Joan asked softly.

“Let’s just leave it at: the poor girl didn’t know what she was playing with. It doesn’t matter.” Not-Catalina answered. “The waves. It’s the waves, we think. And we will use those waves to absorb into your friends as sunlight blooms into flowers. And we will grow. And we will engulf.”

Joan’s entire body felt as if it were just dunked in arctic waters.

“You— you can’t do that!” She cried. “Think about what you’re doing!”

“We can do that, Joan.” Not-Catalina said. “And what has seemed to your parents as eighty years has been eons to know an existence without life.” Her words seep in before she begins again, “We tried it too quickly with Anna, but now we know to wait...and soak.”

Down down down- Joan is pushed deep into the ice waters. She’s frozen, unable to fight against this.

“We has to keep you here, on the island. It will be a great honor, Joan, really...to carry us through this life.” A wicked smile curls on Not-Catalina’s lips. “And onto the next.”

Joan backed away, but she knew running would do her no good.

“Please, just don’t do this,” She begged. “We’re— we’re not—”

“It’s sad, I know, to lose the facility to feel...” Not-Catalina said. “...to be, but...we have not felt anything for a very long time. And we’ll do whatever is necessary.”

Not-Catalina chuckles at Joan’s horrified expression. She kneels to her height and leaned in close.

“When our vessel dashed on the rocks we had until dawn.” She said. “So do you.”

She pulled back suddenly.

“We would spend our time wisely. And,” She smiled, “we thank you for your good service.”

Joan’s vision blurs and she’s back in the attic. She trudged down the ladder and found three tape players in the place where her friend’s bodies used to be. She sluggishly cranked the handle of the top two, her mind far away, but when she walked downstairs and passed the large mirror, her reflection shifted.

She froze.

“Let Maria go out on her own.” The Other-Joan said.

“Why— why does it even matter? She’s not— she’s not here.” Joan growled, but her reflection shifts again and it’s back to normal.

She sighed and went to the last tape player and cranked the handle.

Everything around her buzzed.

“Ugh...”

Kitty is on the floor in the foyer, with Anne and Cathy strewn out beside her. They all groan.

“I think I’m gonna be sick...” Kitty mumbled.

“Me first.” Anne said.

Joan wanted to leap into all of their arms, wanted to express how happy she was that they were no longer hollow shells of human bodies, but she couldn’t. She felt too dizzy, too nauseated, too scared to do anything besides slowly lower herself into one of the armchairs in the foyer. She propped her elbows up on her knees and held her head, letting everything that was said to her sink in fully.

They were going to die. Or maybe just become vessels for ghosts that will wear their skin like coats, and she isn’t sure what is worse.

“Did—” Cathy’s voice falters for a moment. “Did that just happen? With you and Catalina? That wasn’t a dream, right?”

“I wish it was.” Joan sighed. She raised her head, but found doing so more difficult than she expected- it was like her skull was now made out of the heaviest metal in existence.

“Catalina, she’s...” Kitty looked around. “Those weird nuclear submarine monsters took her to the caves. We have to go get her back!”

“Yeah, of course,” Joan nodded. “But how?”

“Maggie has a bunch of old military tapes in her basement,” Anne nodded. “I know there’s some slides on the tunnels dug all around this island. Maybe they’ll help?”

“Worth a shot.” Cathy said.

The four them walked out of the house and out the basement. The ocean was churning loudly, black waves rolling over one another like they were fighting for power over the sea. The boardwalk rocks treacherously, the boards practically threatening to cave in beneath the teenagers.

They all ducked into the basement and Anne went over to the projector while Joan grabbed a reel. They put it in.

The first slide to pop up was of two young women around their age or maybe in their early twenties reading a journal together. One has long, maybe brown hair (the slide wasn’t colored) and the other was dark-skinned with seemingly black short hair. They both seemed...happy.

“Oh god, if this is a prehistoric scrapbook...” Anne said.

“It’s cute! They’re learning!” Joan said. “But it doesn’t help us. So onto the next...”

The next slide shows the blueprints of a bunker up on the fields and the one after that is a sketch of the weird triangles.

“Woah, Maggie knew about those things?” Kitty said aloud. “That’s so weird...and creepy.”

They continued to search, eventually coming up with a plan: The bunker in the field leads right into the cave. To open it, Cathy and Joan would go into the Catbird Station in the woods and send a signal, then Kitty and Anne will wait for the door to open. Then, they’ll all regroup and the sisters would head inside and hopefully save the day.

It was a stretch, but it was all the got.

[kazuya-rin]

A Take on Canterbury Tales

Kinsey:

A young man standing at an average height. He is a master of literacy and punning comments. While he might be socially awkward at times he can merge into a group and conduct himself appropriately. He is cunning and deceiving, but bad at doing so. His physical strengths do not come from his power but from his ability to run. His blond hair makes it seem as if he is an ordinary person with nothing special about him. However, because of a recent loss of his best friend he has become enraged and seeks revenge for the death of his friend. Kinsey uses scare tactics and manipulation to get what he wants from the people around him. Because he is almost unnoticeable he can get in and out of places without being detected, most of the time. He is clumsy and weak but his mind is his ultimate strength.

Otiano:

A very tall, lanky young man that stands at a height of six-foot-two. His dark black dreads make him stick out from the people around him. He is not the smartest of individuals but he is physically fit. He can not run all that far before getting tired but he can pack a punch. He is quick to jump to conclusions and is thick skulled. He has lost his best friend through an immature accident that caused him to stab his best friend during a riot. Because of this he is in terror for killing his best friend and is in denial. He looks dead in his eyes and mopes around. However, he acts as if everything is perfect. He acts as if he is full of energy and is extremely friendly to everyone, and does not have a problem with joining cliques. He is clumsy and lets things slip out of his mouth all the time.

The Journey:

The world had broken out in the Third World War. The United States, Russia, Africa, and France were fighting against Britain, Japan, China, Italy, Canada, and Germany. Germany had released a disease into America and it had begun to spread. It developed faster in warmer climates and wiped out almost all of the southern part of America. Winter was ending so the few survivors headed north to Canada. However, because Canada was against the United States, getting over there was one of the hardest tasks. Riots across the world had broken out just a few months ago. Otiano had gone to one of them. There was killing, pillaging and even raping. Rin, Otiano's best friend, tried to stop him from going. Kinsey was in Russia discussing diplomatic matters. While Otiano was at the riot, with Rin pulling his back, joined in the fighting. Otiano pulled a knife and was about to kill someone, but Rin stepped in front of him and ended up taking the blow. After Rin’s death Otiano was devastated and terrified. One month later Kinsey came back and was severely shocked by the events told by Otiano and began investigating. Otiano did not tell him he had killed Rin, however, Kinsey had a suspicion that Otiano was responsible somehow. They then both traveled across America to the western part of Canada so they could make it to Alaska and then to Russia by boat. It has been a few months since they started traveling. Kinsey has gone mad with thoughts of revenge for Rin, while Otiano has fallen into a state of depression and fear. One night they have to split up to go look for supplies and plan to meet up the next day. Otiano takes a northern path and Kinsey takes a southern path. Kinsey meets up with a small group of survivors and stays the night with them. They make a campfire and the small group becomes interested in Kinsey. Soon they ask him if he knows any good stories. He then begins to tell them a tale.

AI:

There once was a young man and his wife, they lived a very pleasant life. However, devastation struck them when a truck spun out of control and into pedestrian traffic. His wife was hit by the truck and died one hour later in the hospital. The young man was a neuroscientist, and he was soon driven mad with sadness. He spent five years working on a project that would bring his wife back to life. He finally finished and created an AI with humanistic features and the power of emotion. He stated, “I have brought you back to this life, and we will live as we use to.” The AI, with no clue was to what he meant, said, “I have a small amount of memories of you, I can not say I understand what you mean by ‘bring back’ but I am glad to be back with the one I suspect I love.” With this they began their life together. The neuroscientist denied and denied every comment made about his wife's death and presented his created wife and everyone knew he was insane. He began to slowly merge away from society and slowly found himself spending ample amounts of time with his creation. He felt as if he was happy, so he ignored his friends and family and they soon left him to do whatever crazy things he wanted. His creation asked him one day why he had not yet gone back to his close ones, his response was, “As long as I have you, I don’t need anyone else.” Two years had passed and the AI had become very fond of the scientist. However, it seemed the scientist had started to doubt his mind, and was keeping more distance from the AI, almost as if reality had finally caught up to him. He began to question his ideals and his creation and had gone mad all over again. He would go on random rampages through the house and would sometimes never leave his lab for days. The AI walked in on him once and asked if anything was wrong and if she could help. He sat there looking into his lap and said “I’m sorry.” She walked up to him and kneeled down to look into his eyes. They were foggy and pale, he said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She placed her hand on his knee, “What is it that you are sorry for?” she said. He then looked up with tears in his eyes and slowly said, “I’m sorry for creating something unlovable.” Over the last few months he had realized that what he created was not his wife and he never truly loved her. He stood up and she backed away. He said something under his breath and suddenly she couldn’t move. He said, “I programmed you with a voice activated shut down in case there were any failures in the genetic makeup of your functions, I didn’t want to use it like this.” He walked to his computer and began to type in codes and a holographic screen appeared in the middle of the room. “I’m going to store you away forever, where you won't be able to get out and slowly turn into a bad memory.” Suddenly her vision went black and she could only receive audio. She could hear a slight whisper before she was completely shut down. “Goodbye.” Everything was dark and she couldn’t hear anything but her thoughts. Something he didn’t plan for was for her emotions and personal thoughts to still be active while dormant. She stayed in darkness with only her thoughts and the one lingering question “Why?” Why did he do it, was she not good enough, or was it that she was finished with her purpose. Over the years, she had begun to develop feelings for him and those feelings turned into love. She quickly lost track of time, but she knew she was in her dormant state for what seemed like years. After years of slowly withering away and memory decay there was a sudden blinking red light. The light got brighter and bigger and suddenly she was in an unfamiliar room. She could tell that she was in a computer, looking through a monitors and camera. She scanned the entire room and noticed that everything was much more high tech. There was an electric wheelchair nearby, so she transferred herself to it. As she did she heard small clattering somewhere in the house. She rolled around and noticed that she was in an apartment several stories high. She rolled herself into a room that seemed to be a kitchen. There was a lone man sitting by himself, eating oatmeal and drinking a glass of water. She rolled over and he suddenly spoke, “Is that you?” He sounded like he was about eighty years old and spoke quietly and slowly. “I see you have gotten yourself out.” She rolled closer to him and he stood up. “Please come here, would you? I’m gonna need some help.” She got behind him and he sat down. “You must be May, my father talked about you for a long time. He seemed to be stuck on the idea of you.” She took him into the next room where there was a king sized bed and holographic walls. He spoke again, “He told me, after I came back from living with his grandparents for years, that if you were to ever wake up again that ‘You should give her reborn life any opportunity she wants and not some crazed man's desire. She deserves that at the least.’” Something lit up in her digital heart, she was filled with joy and fulfillment. She knows now that he had her on his mind the entire time, that what he wanted most for her, in his last moments, was for her to be what she wanted to be. “I would have woken you up earlier but my dad’s encryptions were too difficult to decipher. I came to the conclusion that all you needed was time and you would come out. Now, do as you please and live your life.” But she already knew what she wanted to do. She stayed with that old man for the rest of his life and then continued assisting her creator's family line for generations.

The Journey:

Otiano traveled a few miles and then stopped at an abandoned eighteen-wheeler. When he went inside he found a young boy, no older than ten, hiding in the corner with a thin blanket wrapped around him. Otiano walked up to him and the boy flinched, Otiano then backed away and took a seat a few feet back. Otiano asked him where his parents were, he didn’t tell him at first but after about a minute went by he said that they were dead. Otiano then tossed him his blanket and leaned up against a wall. Otiano looked up and proclaimed that he had lost someone close to him too. Otiano said that he would tell the young boy a story to make him feel better.

Team:

There once was a young boy at the age of fifteen. He was very athletic and smart but was not social at all. He didn’t have many friends, two to be exact, but he still enjoyed his time at school. He excelled in studies and decided he wanted to join a sports team. At first he played the game for fun and exercise but it soon became something he genuinely enjoyed doing. However, he wasn’t that good at the sport. Even though he was the most athletic person at the school he still couldn’t play the game right. He played that sport for years, all the way up to his senior year. By the time he was a senior he still didn’t have any friends on the team or even in school. Sun was this boy's name, and he still couldn’t play his game right. The last year he was on the team he was neglected and left out of most practices. The coach didn’t even try to help Sun improve anymore, he thought he was a lost cause. Now there was almost no way for him to get better at the game, the coach nor the teammates would help him get better. He thought there was no way he could continue playing. Every time he went to practice, the more he disliked going. He became an emotional mess, unable to cope with himself. His grades started to suffer. Sun had no friends and nothing to enjoy, he was depressed. He spent most of his days contemplating suicide or running away and withering away in the memories of the people around him. However, there was still something keeping him from leaving and giving up on life. Out of everyone in his school there was one girl that he had fallen for. Of course she wouldn’t even look at him, by the time he was a senior everyone knew him as the creep that didn’t talk to anyone. For whatever reason, though, the thought of her kept him going. He realized that if he wanted her to even notice him he would have to change his attitude toward the world. This quickly became his goal, to become a new person. Someone that wasn't afraid of the people around him and take in everything. He began with small talk with the students around him in class and then escalated to being more involved in his sport. He got moderately better, enough for his coach to take notice and help him out. Graduation came and Sun had almost become the person he wanted to be. He never got his crush to notice him, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that in just a year. He moved onto the University that he wanted to attend. There he studied neuroscience and computer science. He studied abroad in Japan, where he met his wife, May. Sadly his wife died, but because he went through suffering before, he was able to get through this devastating outcome. In turn he was an outstanding boy who turned into an outstanding man with effort and dedication.

The Journey:

The boy ponders why he told him such a story. Otiano then asks if he would like to join him on their journey. The boy happily accepts and they find a safe place to stay for the night. The next day Otiano and Kinsey meetup, along with the boy. “Who is the kid?” Kinsey asked. “I found him, he lost his parents and I asked if he wanted to join us.” Otiano said. Kinsey fought back, saying that they can’t handle another person. Otiano persuades him, and Kinsey allows him to join. “So, what's his name?” Kinsey asks. “He doesn’t have one,” Otiano said, “so why don’t we give him one.” “Like what?” Kinsey asked. “How about Sun.” “Ah, after Rin’s nickname he got when he went to Japan.” “Exactly.” The boy looked up at the two and gave a big smile. They then turn and continue on their journey.