#this may be my own fault for bringing two interests together whoops

[majorbaby]

if youre curious about why ive tagged one of my original posts (gifs, meta etc) in such a way or would like to discuss it further you can always approach me on or off anon rather than assuming im wrong and attempting to correct me in the tags of my own post.

[incoherentbabblings]

An Endless Hope (9/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces who seem awfully familiar along the way. 

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Cassandra could be just as obsessive as her brothers. She may have been a little quieter about it, but an instance where her best friend and closest brother had gone missing two months ago had lent itself very neatly to her sitting by Kane bridge all day every day, watching, waiting for them to arrive back home. Sometimes Duke would join her, when he didn’t have school or some daytime mission to attend to, and the pair would sit in silence, watching the water. The storm and its heavy snowfall had long since gone, nothing more than an interesting memory for most of the residents of the city.

It had not taken long for Batman to track down and threaten Klarion into returning Tim and Stephanie in one piece (when he was determined to find someone, he found them). But Klarion had been of no help, simply stating that both were alive, and to let them be. If disaster struck, he would be sure to inform them. It was a difficult task, certainly, but Batman should have some faith in his underlings.

Bruce had shaken Klarion until Teekl had intervened, and the pair had vanished since. Efforts with other, friendlier, magic users had not yielded any results. So, Bruce had taken his frustration out on the innocent crooks of Gotham. Being told to sit back and wait did not sit right with the family, but it seemed that was what they must do. No news was good news according to Klarion.

Bruce’s February birthday bled into Dick’s own late March birthday, which in turn became April. It was on the at 3pm on the 12th of April, a day when both Cassandra and Duke were watching the water, Cassandra up high, perched and hidden from sight on the bridge's girders, Duke, sat on the pebbly beach, that Bruce rolled up in one of his fancy cars. Cassandra stayed in place whilst Duke went to greet the billionaire.

As always it was windy down by the water, stripping away any warmth the spring had brought with it. Chewing his lip, Duke shook his head at Bruce, and saw, even if he was trying to hide it, a slight look of hope become dashed.

Bruce collapsed onto the pebbles himself, work suit and all, and Duke joined him.

“Tomorrow we are going to find Klarion again. No more games.”

Duke nodded vigorously. “Good. How many of us are coming?”

“All of you. I’m not interested in his silly nursery rhymes or his damn cat getting in the way –”

Cassandra’s wail, words stolen from her, made them both look up to her, then across to what she had seen. She leapt down several levels, creeping out further over the bay.

“Cassandra!” Duke howled, “What do you see?”

She took a moment to respond, then she looked back to Bruce, yelling, “It’s them! It’s them!”

Two heads broke the surface of the disgusting water, and even from as far away as they were, the black-haired boy and blonde girl were unmistakably Tim and Stephanie. Cassandra continued to yell towards them, trying to catch their attention. She saw and heard Tim bounce enthusiastically. He whooped, waving up and across the bay when he saw who was waiting. Stephanie meanwhile moved so she could cling to Tim’s back. Even from this distance, Cassandra could see she was tired.

Bruce’s stomach dropped in painful relief, and he shouted their names, encouraging them to come to shore. He saw them bob in the water, then slowly, steadily, begin the swim across the river.

Duke gasped and fumbled to find his phone. He strangled out,

“The others, I have to tell the others!”

Watching them swim that last mile was intolerably painful. Cassandra, nearly unable to bear waiting for them to reach land, moved back towards shore, jumping down the levels until she reached the beach and Duke and Bruce. Duke was on the phone to anyone and everyone in the know, telling them that the young pair had found their way back, and to meet at the Manor when they could. Bruce, who was in the process of ripping off his shoes and jacket, was unable to wait for his children to reach the beach themselves.

He ran out into the cold water at the same time that Tim and Stephanie managed to reach a shallow enough area to walk. Tim seemed to be holding out better than Stephanie, who struggled to get to her feet. The pair stumbled straight into Bruce’s arms, and the three collapsed back into the water, holding on tight.

“You’re both here,” Bruce gasped disbelievingly. Tim was pressed in a tight hug against his chest, Stephanie burrowed in between his shoulder and neck. He noted that, aside from Stephanie’s drastic haircut and a general air of exhaustion, the two were unharmed. Stephanie was holding very tight to Tim’s wrist, seemingly unable to let go.

Behind him, Bruce heard Cassandra and Duke running out to join them. The water was cold, as it was still only April, and filthy, but the family could not find it in them to care.

“I’m sorry Bruce…” Stephanie mumbled, sounding close to tears. “I lost your scarf.”

He would have dismissed it out of hand, but Cassandra body slamming the group and Duke splashing next to them did not allow him to reassure her.

“You’re home!” Cassandra crowed. “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home!”

Tim snickered and hugged his sister, letting go of Stephanie. Bruce did not miss her aching gasp as he did so.

“How much time did we miss?” Tim asked.

“Two months,” Duke breathed, tugging Stephanie onto her feet and out of the cold water. Stephanie immediately whirled so she could see Tim in the river with Cassandra, only half listening to Duke when he continued, “We were close to using the nuclear option. How did you get back?”

“We got to the river and jumped. Came back the way she came.” Tim went back to Bruce, shivering in the cold water. Bruce picked Tim up, and together they walked back to shore. Trying to make Bruce understand, Tim pushed, “Steph did it, Bruce. All by herself. She found me and saved me.”

“Not entirely by myself. I had a lot of help along the way.” As they trudged to shore, Stephanie wrung out her short hair. Cassandra immediately ran her hands through it, face showing blatant curiosity. Stephanie shook her head, looking like a golden retriever drying herself, then backed off so she could stand next to Tim again. “It’s a long story.”

“I need to hear all of it,” Bruce pushed.

Duke counteracted, “But let’s go home first. I’ve called everyone, they’ll be on their way to the Manor.”

Tim’s chest bloomed with warmth at the thought of Alfred and Babs and even Damian. Stephanie, red cheeked from the cold, also smiled but then it froze, and cracked.

“Home,” she agreed, looking guilt stricken. “I need to go to mom.”

“I’ll call her. I’ve been keeping her in the loop Stephanie, don’t worry about that. You did good.” Bruce’s determined and confident tone set her at ease, leading her to hugging Bruce tightly. Ruffling her wet hair, he murmured, “Not sure about the hair though.”

Despite her exhaustion, stress and general overwhelming events of the past eight weeks, Stephanie managed a bright laugh.

“We’re home!” 

Tim had not been lectured by a mother in what was probably a decade, however the rantings of a rarely worked up Crystal Brown somehow felt deeply familiar (and oddly comforting to have someone even care that much).

It must have looked a little odd to the rest of the family, Crystal Brown, pink turtleneck and white work coat on, ranting in a manner that – knowing Mrs Brown’s usually placid nature – meant she was really ticked off. Bruce was a black dressed column behind her, nodding emphatically with his arms crossed. Tim and Stephanie were sitting, still damp and smelly from the river, on some priceless loveseat, looking like a pair of drowned rats. Tim found his shoes very interesting. Stephanie was pouting at her mother as Crystal got more and more heated.

“And where did that dress come from? And your hair! Did you hack at it with a knife?”

“...Yes,” Stephanie grumbled. Crystal continued as if she had not spoken.

“...And for what? Him?” Crystal yelled as Stephanie blinked, taken a little aback by the level of ranting her mother exhibited. “Believe me when I say I understand you won’t be dissuaded Stephanie from these masks, but I am just asking that you give me warning before you disappear for two months and maybe ask yourself if – if a boy is worth all this! I am going to have a stroke one day from the stress of this you know!”

Bruce blinked, knowing better than to get involved, even if his gut instinct was to defend Tim. It wasn’t like the boy had decided to go on a life-threatening trip. Tim gulped, but Stephanie held onto Tim’s hand tightly.

“He needed help mom. End of discussion.”

Crystal snorted derogatively. “You could have given me some warning before going off on another suicide run.”

Stephanie blanched and Tim grimaced. Bruce sighed, like he was about to start speaking his piece, but Crystal was not done.

“I want you to move back home.”

Tim finally looked up at Crystal, whilst Stephanie’s mouth dropped open.

“What?”

Crystal’s voice wavered as she said, “You heard me,” and even to Stephanie she sounded unsure if it was a viable solution to her worries.

Tim felt Stephanie’s hand twitch around his own. Guilt rose, making his throat choked up. He imagined if Stephanie was standing, she would be stomping her feet.

“Mommy, I love you but no way.”

Bruce coughed awkwardly, “Perhaps if we took a day or two before –”

“Maybe you should, Steph.” Tim quietly interrupted. Stephanie whipped her head round from glaring at her mother to stare at Tim, mouth dropped open. Tim gave the weak explanation, “It’s my fault, and maybe it’d be better for you if...”

Stephanie’s nostrils flared, and she frowned. When she spoke, unlike her mother, there was no doubt in her rebuttal.

“No, it is absolutely not. You didn’t choose to be hurt like that. You didn’t choose to be taken away. It’s not your fault. I did choose to bring you home. I chose to go on that journey. I could have said no, but I didn’t. My choice, my agency. You and my mom don’t get to send me away because of misplaced guilt.”

They had a wordless conversation, Tim guilt ridden, Stephanie confident and entreating. She knew what he was doing. Thinking of himself as a burden when he was anything but. She reached over and took his other hand and Tim felt his eyes sting wet.

“Stephanie,” Crystal pushed one last time. She did not sound cruel, or unreasonable, just deeply worried. “I don’t know what I have to do to get through to you.”

Stephanie looked at her mother, mournful. Finally, she said, “I won’t move back in with you. I want to stay with Tim.”

Tim was mistaken, there was nothing comforting or familiar about the look Crystal was giving them. Like her only daughter, the daughter she had already lost once, was a ticking time bomb. And Tim was the one with the clock counting down the minutes.

Part of him wished that Stephanie had left him in the cold.

But then Crystal left, as she was unable to bear the argument anymore. To Tim’s partial shock, Bruce was not far behind her to try and say his piece, as if now was the best time to actually contribute and speak to Stephanie’s mother. A moment of silence passed after the door clicked shut, then Stephanie fell forward onto her knees, crying. Hands hovering over her shoulders, reluctant to comfort her if she did not want it, Tim gulped.

“Steph, I… I’m so–”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, no bite to her tone. Instead, all Tim heard was exhaustion. She kept her head down and, quietly sobbing to herself, said, “Don’t you dare.”

  Tim was not party to Stephanie and Crystal’s follow up conversation the next day. He felt like he did not deserve to be. However, whatever had been exchanged allowed Tim and Stephanie to return to their apartment. He contemplated speaking to Crystal himself, but a sharp look from Stephanie had killed that idea stone dead.

At least, after one week of questions, hugs, praises, warnings, and overly nervous parenting from Bruce, Tim and Stephanie were allowed to go home. Their first night back Tim had stared at the window, not out of, only looking away when a message from Duke invited them out to patrol.

Getting back to normality he supposed. Stephanie had taken one look at the message, sighed, then shook her head. She had been down in the dumps all week, and though Tim thought patrol might do her good, she refused.

“You go,” she pushed. “I need an extra day or two. Then we’ll go together?”

Tim looked back at the windowsill, an idea forming in his head, then nodded. He needed to go, to get back into the literal swing of things. He was ready. She needed just a bit more time. For once, it seemed Tim was quite willing to try and put everything behind him, but Stephanie was not. She had a lot of catching up to do as Stephanie Brown, and she didn’t have the pre-made excuse of being the somewhat flighty son of a billionaire who had a habit of disappearing for months at a time. Apparently, according to some gossip sites, her and Tim had eloped and had a two-month honeymoon in Curaçao. Stephanie very much would have preferred that lie to the truth.

An issue continued to plague her in the week that she had returned. Bruce had called it out early on, and even now she still chided herself when she was caught doing it.

She couldn’t bear for Tim not to be in her line of sight. She was petrified that the minute she turned away, the moment he shut the door behind him, he would be stolen away once more. Tim knew that she was struggling a little, but he felt no overwhelming need for space. But how to prove he would not be taken or leave again? Especially as the first time wasn’t exactly planned. They could only take things one day at a time, and her encouraging him to go on patrol without her was a massive show of faith. Tim hoped she knew how much he appreciated it.

Tim lingered around her a little anxiously before he left that night. Not being subtle at all, he watched her comb her hair, finding the static cloud of blonde a little amusing, then he watched her brush her teeth and wash her face. In a deliberate effort to cheer her up, he insisted she wear his sweater to bed.

“It’ll make me happy,” he said.

Steph knew what he was trying to do, but she nodded. Tim smelled like comfort, and it would do until the real him was home. He kissed her very sweetly, then promised he would be back.

Stephanie smiled, but in the back of her head she could not shake the feeling that once he was out of her sight again, he would not come back. Tim tried to ignore how washed out she looked. He tried to ignore how guilty he felt.

He carefully shut the bedroom door behind him, heading down to the Nest, and Stephanie lay in silence. Eventually exhaustion won out over anxiety and she fell asleep before Tim came back home.

She would not wake until ten the next morning. When she did, she found Tim resting a hand on her cheek. His fingers were warm, and she sighed sharply, almost like a cry. Her heartbeat settled. He’d returned to her.

She understood somewhere at the back of her mind that this anxiety would not leave so easily. It would take some time before she would feel comfortable letting Tim out of her sight for long, but she had to do it. It wasn’t like she could shackle him to her leg. She felt Tim shift on the bed sheets next to her, as if he had been watching her sleep and now recognized she was awake.

“Morning,” she croaked.

“Morning. Come on,” he replied, hand moving up to her hair. He stroked it in a calming motion for a moment or two, until he spoke again, voice quiet. “I’ve got something to show you.”

She could practically hear the smile in his voice. She would have happily gotten up, but found she was still too tired, like her five hours of sleep was restless. When she sighed and raised her arms like a child, Tim scooped her up from her warm cocoon and carried her down the stairs to the living room. Setting her down near the lounge window, he waited for her drowsiness to dissipate and for her to realise what was on the windowsill.

He snorted a laugh at the sight of her, frizzy hair defying gravity, in thick cotton shorts and his fading black sweater. Her cheeks were flushed pink and he caught glimpses of sleep that she scrubbed away as she yawned.

She blinked, rubbing her eyes once more, then did a double take.

“Our flowers!”

There, sat in two separate boxes, were her lilac roses and Tim’s red. Tim smiled, a little smug, and she tottered over to them. The red, which had been struggling when she had given them up, were thriving in their home. Stroking the petals, she looked back to Tim. Her eyes were damp, but she was smiling,

“How’d you convince Ivy?”

Tim shrugged, playing the humble boyfriend. “Wasn’t too hard actually,” he explained. “I went as Tim, not Red Robin. She knew who you were, who I was, what we were to each other. I guess she thought I had nerve and thought it was funny.”

Stephanie went back to Tim and pressed his cheeks tightly, making his lips pouty.

“She wouldn’t give up plants for a joke.”

“No.” Tim wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sneaking down her arm to hold her hand. Stephanie welcomed the grip and yawned at the comforting feeling of his solid build around her. Hands slipping back with her elbows resting on his shoulders, she shut her eyes, content, as Tim continued, “But I think she believed me when I said I owed you big time. Understatement maybe but I… Steph. It’s the least I could do. They belong to us. They’re our flowers. You gave them up to find me. You found me, so I took them back. Simple as that.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim did not share her happy tone, murmuring sadly, “You’re welcome. Thank you for coming for me. Even if I think I didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s such a terrible, awful, rotten lie you tell yourself.”

“The flowers aren’t enough though,” he said bitterly. Stephanie’s sad sigh did nothing to deter him, and he rocked them in their embrace from side to side. “You went through hell to find me,” Tim whispered.

She kept her eyes closed. “I hear remorse.”

“Maybe.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“But I didn’t.”

Stephanie opened her eyes finally when Tim let her go. Wringing his hands, Tim looked guilt ridden. “When you… When Leslie took you away. I accepted what I was told. You were gone, one way or another.”

“I don’t really think the two events are comparable.” Gently, put with enough force to make Tim huff, Stephanie punched his gut, trying to smack some perspective into him. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me my mother of all people is making you --”

“I won’t leave you,” he interrupted firmly. “I... not willingly. I won’t ever be that cruel. I won’t put you through hell. Not for nothing.”

Stephanie frowned, and not for the first time Tim ran his hand through her short hair. He made a little bit of a face when his fingers reached the ends of the strands so quickly. It was enough for Stephanie to tilt her head and give him a look of warning.

“I thought the flowers might help,” he concluded. “You’ll know when something has really gone wrong between us when they wither up and die or something.”

“Like in a fairy-tale.”

“Like in a fairy-tale,” Tim confirmed.

Stephanie glanced back at the pair of boxes of flowers soaking up the dim Gotham sun, then looked back to Tim. She smiled, and in the morning light Tim vaguely thought she looked like she was glowing. Unable to help himself, he kissed her. Even in his misery, Tim knew he wasn’t strong enough to let her go. She made him so happy. Even if he hated what he put her through, she had a staunch desire to stay and he was too selfish to want any other kind of relationship with her. It was her choice, Stephanie said. Their relationship, her love for him, her journey to bring him home. Her choices mattered.

What she saw in him...

The kiss ended too soon for Tim, and when he went forward to try to kiss her again, she leaned away, pressing her fingertips to his lips. Her face had grown solemn.

“Any luck finding Klarion?”

“Huh?”

“His magic is still in – on – me. I don’t think it’s good for me to have an anxiety attack every time you go to the bathroom.”

She was joking, only slightly, but the look in her eye contained a warning. Her fright of being separated from Tim was not going to go away on its own, not so long as that homing beacon of a spell Klarion had cast lingered in her chest.

“You’re frightened it’ll get worse?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me it wouldn’t be just our luck for me to keel over from a heart attack or something because of a stupid spell.” Pressing a hand to his sternum, Stephanie simultaneously stared at his heart whilst also looking right through him. Almost as if speaking to herself, she whispered, “Why is it never easy, Steph?”

Something about her haunted look frightened Tim into action. He pulled her into an embrace, then dragged her over to the sofa to properly hold her. Playing with her fingers, he mused what he could do for her. Determination settled in his mind.

“I can do it. I’ll find him and fix it. My turn to look after you.”

She snorted softly, nuzzling his chest. “Your turn? It doesn’t work like that.”

“Maybe. But you remember what we talked about, back when we were at the garden centre?”

Stephanie frowned absentmindedly, “Disneyland?”

“Kind of. What makes an adult an adult?”

“Oh.” She reached up and returned her hand to the centre of his chest, feeling the solid thump thump under her fingertips. “You have an answer?”

“You first. I wanna see if they match up.”

Stephanie thought about her journey, about who she met and the help and hindrance she endured. She thought about the old woman by the river, and the old woman in the snow. She thought about the lonely little boy and the proud princess. She thought about the self-absorbed witch.

“When you’re a kid, the centre of the world is you. Everything you do is determined by how it will affect yourself. And not even in a selfish way, it’s just you’re not capable of self-sufficiency, so you look to others to help you, to make all the hard decisions for you. Growing up… it’s learning to put others first, right? Or at least… counting yourself as just as important as others? It’s about being able to make those choices to care and carry them through. Does—does that make sense?”

Tim sounded proud when he replied, “Right. It’s why people with bad childhoods have such weird understandings of their place in the world, y’know? So, you take care of me, and I take care of you. We’re not fourteen anymore Steph.”

“No.”

He kissed her forehead. “I promise not to break your heart. I’ll do one better and fix it.”

Scoffing, she pressed her lips to his neck as they embraced. “You don’t half make it skip a beat, Tim.”

He pulled her down, so they were laying on the sofa. Again, he resumed playing with her hair. Regardless of length, that had not changed. Looking to her lips, he kissed her gently, enjoying the puff of her she released when they pecked.

“We’re nearly there,” he whispered.

“Where’s there?” Stephanie grumbled, pulling him back for another smooch. He broke away, a little amused, a little embarrassed.

“Our happily ever after,” he said, cheeks pink. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

Stephanie laughed, loudly and brightly and beautifully. Cradling Tim’s jaw, she rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs. Pressing a slow kiss to his forehead, she whispered, “Sure thing my Prince Charming. We can only hope.”

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 57 Remember

 That couldn’t have been her. She said her full name to them. It was her no doubt about it, and she was real. It was terrifying to see her in the flesh. To have so much history with her but she had zero history with him. His phone rang again and he answered.

“Shouji, I should have told you…” Deku started. “She didn’t recognize me either.”

“Aizawa was right about keeping anyone from looking for her. It just was too much.” Shouji said.”Why didn’t you tell me she was there?”

“I thought if I did, you wouldn’t come.”

He was right, he’d avoid that university like the plague. Shouji does have a tender curiosity for Y/n’s well being but he didn’t want to meet a Y/n that didn’t remember him and he wasn’t going to stalk her. 

“I remember how happy you two were when you guys were together. She did a lot of questionable things, but you both seemed to really care for each other and I just thought if you two met again, you would make each other happy again, like that.” Midoriya explained. 

“Midoriya, she may be an entirely new person now.” Shouji said, but then he made his decision. “I’ll stay on the security squad.”

“What! Really?” 

“It would be awful if she got hurt again.” Shouji said. “But I’ll try and protect everyone at that gala.”

“Thank you Shouji!”

Shouji hung up and looked back at the hospital selfie they took when they had their official hospital date. There was probably never going to be a date like that again. Well he could only hope that he wouldn’t have a hospital date after his partner got burned to a crisp. 

 It was just his horror to talk to Y/n again, knowing he didn’t share the same history. He was a stranger to her. She held her hand out like it was their first meeting. It was like his insides were being torn from within, and he had to pretend it was nothing. 

Shouji called the club for a more in depth tour, where attacks could hide, sources of power, the whole nine yards. The president of the club said he would give the tour. 

 Shouji got there and was greeted by the president of the club. He explained he believes an opposing club could be the culprit. 

“Why would another club be out for this one?” Shouji asked. 

“Ever since (last name) was made my Vice President, she’s been able to bring in more club members with her personality. A lot of members were drawn to our club because of her outgoingness and that she could persuade freshmen at orientation why we were the best club. Because of this other clubs have suffered not having any new members, which means lack of funding for them and more for us.” The president explained. “I didn’t think I’d be able to save our dying club, but when Y/n joined we made it to nationals.”

Shouji wanted to avoid this topic. He was glad Y/n was ambitious and found some direction in her life. She was doing amazing like she always was going to be. No, what he worried about was hearing about the possibility of a love interest.

“She sounds amazing.” Shouji told the president.

“She intimidated you didn’t she?” The president asked. “She scared the hell out of me when we first met. She barked out orders from day one on how to improve our club.”

“Do you think the attacker is going to be after her specifically?” Shouji asked.

“I never really thought about it. I don’t know if they know (last name) is the reason for our club’s sudden popularity. You would think because she’s so loud.”

“It’s only a guess, but she could be the main target.” Shouji said. 

“Should I tell her? I don’t want to ruin her big night making her feel responsible for the threats.” The president asked. “But I also want her to be aware…”

“We probably should.” Though they were technically strangers now, he didn’t want her living in the dark. “But it is only a theory. I could be wrong.” Shouji told them.

“Here’s our club- and speak of the devil.” The president said as they opened the doors.

Y/n was in the lab, with a machine and computer beside her. She was conducting some sort of trial, that Shouji did not know. She was in a white lab coat, recording data. She turned to them as she heard the doors opened revealing she was wearing safety glasses.

“Oh hey, showing our security around?” Y/n asked the president.

“Yes, and what are you doing here? All our projects have been wrapped up for the moment.”

“Doing, my own projects. You get me, Mr. Tentacole, just because the assignment is complete, there is always more work to be done!” She sang. “You have your security missions, but you also catch bad guys!” she twirled in the lad.

“Please stop.” The president sighed. “Tentacole thinks you may be a target of the threats.”

“Me?” Y/n was surprised. “What did I do?” she got a little angry.

“It’s only a theory, but with the information we gathered we think another club suffered from lack of recruitment-” Shouji tried to explain.

“Oh because people wanted to hang out with me because I am one of the best scientists at this school, that I should get hurt and have my club’s work ruined all for something so childish!” She yelled.

 “It’s only a hypothesis L/n, no one said it’s your fault we’re being targeted at the gala.”

“Not only are we successful in our technical skills, and our decision making, but because we also have social skills, covering all our bases for talents a good club needs, I’m to blame because I excel at all three, I feel like.” She explained. “It just hurts that someone feels so intimidated by me. They want to crush my beautiful success, after everything I've been through.”

The president rolled his eyes, but Shouji’s interest piqued. Did she remember?

“If Deku or Tentacole agree to be your body guard or something will you settle down?” The president asked.

“No! I must find the darkness that hides behind cut up magazine threats, and strangle them with my bare hands because I control my own fate, success, destiny-” She was going on.

Was she really the same Y/n! It really seemed like it. 

“Its illegal to strangle someone.” The president told her.

“I have proof they were threatening me! Tentacole just a little strangle? You would understand right?” Y/n begged.

Her (colored) eyes were wide as she pleaded with everything in her heart to be allowed to beat the crap out of her attacker. Shouji turned his gaze away, fearing he might blow his cover of trying to only be the pro hero of security for this event, not a foggy memory.

“It’s only a theory you may be the target.” Shouji told her.

“Well that’s not a no.” She said.

Charming as ever. Voice as smooth as silk, and her soul always felt like she was on victory road. Except that short time she was at UA. The president sighed in annoyance at his extroverted counterpart that was able to fluster a pro-hero, especially one that is not known for being emotional. Being close with his vice president, he always saw things going easy for Y/n, she could charm just about any professor or sponsor, and ten minutes later get hammered with the sports teams, and never face any social consequences. But as he learned more about his counterpart, he saw that Y/n had a troubled past, that she was trying to overcome. With all his knowledge, he had to believe this cruise style life came from something science couldn’t explain, that there was balance trying to be restored.

“Well, I’ll be showing Tentacole the hall we’ll be in for the gala. We’ll leave you to your fun.” The president said taking Shouji out of the lab.

They began walking  across campus to get to the fancy hall that the university uses to host their most elegant dinner parties.

“I told you she is very intimidating like a snake!” The president huffed. “You just have to be firm with your no’s with her, because she will choke someone and I don’t know how the hero stuff works, but I can assume you can get in trouble.”

“You think she’ll choke someone?” Shouji asked.

“I’ve seen it! It starts out all cute, or she’s flinging insults, and she gives  a warning and goes through with it, every single time.” The president whined. “It was bad when the dean’s son liked her, because he didn’t know what the word no meant, let alone threats. She beat him with a chair, and she almost got expelled, but she was able to convince the sexual harassment case pretty far, and expose the dean for nepotism. I thought I was going to have to dissolve the club, and she turned it around.”

It all did sound like Y/n. She was still the same Y/n.

“She sounds pretty tough.” Shouji commented.

“It’s all in the element of surprise, or thats what I first thought. No one expected a physics major to ever go insane like her. But then when the rumors spread, people started challenging her, and she could whoop ass. She doesn’t remember, but I bet she had some martial arts training.”

“Why wouldn’t she remember that?”

The president realized they spoke too much.

“Keep this to yourself, but before L/n came to this university, she suffered from amnesia. The university almost didn’t accept her, but she took so many exams to prove she belonged. The martial arts is probably a muscle memory rather than a part of the brain that was affected.” The president said. “I felt bad because I also tried to find a way to deny her entry in the club, but she fought tooth and nail.”

So it all was true, she forgot them, there was no doubt, but knowing things were still difficult after losing her memories just made him ache. She was kept away from UA hoping to lessen the possible pain of remembering, but there were new obstacles always trying to stop her.

“That sounds awful.” Shouji said.

“I just assumed the school was giving her everything on a silver platter, and I wanted no part of it. Turns out I was part of one of her fights to belong in a space she is probably above.”

That night, Shouji decided to google Y/n. No social media, but achievements from school newspapers. With his pro hero perks, he was able to find the case of Y/n vs the dean’s son for assault and sexual harassment. There was no lie, chair and all. He then looked up the dean’s son, and found out that right after the case, he got married, which recently his wife committed suicide. Apparently she wanted to legally separate, but there was no suicide note found. That man may have not stopped his reign of terror, but at least Y/n was able to put some fear in him.

[hongism]

not your typical flower shop story chapter two

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Flower Shop Owner!Taehyung, College!Reader, College!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, Future Smut

Word Count: 6055

Rating: M

Warnings: mild language

Summary: You always goes to the cute boy next door’s flower shop across the street because hi yes he’s the cutest damn person you’ve ever seen, until one day a guy with tattoos and a severe obsession with the color black shows up in the shop asking for the ‘usual’ and you find out that your cute innocent little flower boy has a dirty little secret.

A/N: okay tbh i didn’t write an outline for this so i just wrote whatever to my mind and let the story take me where it wanted to go. I’m hugely overwhelmed by the support you guys have given to the first part! and hahahahahhaahahh yoongi isn’t a bad boy whOOPS, i wanted to kinda break that stereotype and throw you for a loop lol. And I’m super excited to see where it goes! I am bumping the rating up, because i kinda expect it to get more mature as it progresses and possibly have future smut but??? I’m anxious about that bc i’ve never written smut askfskdjf we will see where it goes!! Onto the story~

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"Here's some hot tea. I don't know if you like that kind of thing. Um, it's peppermint flavored." Taehyung passes a steaming mug your way, but you don't reach out to accept it. You refuse to look in his direction in fact and opt to pull the wool blanket draped around your shoulders closer to your body as though it will take the coldness out of your skin. Taehyung sighs and sets the mug on the coffee table before you. "Y/N..." He trails off without finishing whatever train of thought he had, and instead moves to sit on the couch beside the chair where you sit.

Wood squeaks, protesting against movement that does not belong to Taehyung, but rather Yoongi, who occupies the chair directly across from yours. You lift your gaze to look him in the eye. The furrow of his brows shows the evident concern that both him and Taehyung must be feeling, but too much is running through your system at the moment and you can't bring yourself to care all too much.

The events that followed your text are still a blur, and you aren't sure the memories will ever return to you.

read

That small, supposedly insignificant word remains emblazoned at the forefront of your thoughts. How are you supposed to focus on whatever was happening outside the shock of seeing that word beside your texts after going so long without it? To put it simply: you aren't, and you won't.

You blink at the coffee table, looking past the steaming mug of tea Taehyung set down and towards the identical black objects a bit further down.

"You have a gun," you say at last, eyes fluttering shut as reality slowly settles in.

"Y/N, I can ex—” 

"I must be dreaming. Or losing my mind. Maybe this is all a hallucination, and I've finally lost it."

"I know this is a lot to handle, and I'm truly sorry for putting you in a position where you could have been hurt." Taehyung scoots forward and tries to lessen the distance between the two of you, but you lean away from him in response. "I can explain."

"Explain what? The boy across the street who sells flowers for a living — and is my neighbor — has a gun on his coffee table. Not only that, he brought said gun to dinner with me. Then there was an armed robbery at the diner, and I had to text your "friend" in code." You shake your head as you speak, unable to process the words yourself. "You're a drug dealer. My neighbor is a drug dealer."

"I'm not a drug dealer!" Taehyung protests.

"Part of the mafia? A gang? Nothing else explains why you would carry a gun, talk in code with your supposed friend, and talk about drugs in your texts!"

"That's not—it wasn't—I have an explanation." Taehyung stands up and brings his hands to his face as though pleading you to hear him out.

"I'm gonna die."

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

"You're gonna kill me to keep me quiet," you reason. "I can't do this."

"No—Y/N, no one is going to kill you." Yoongi cuts into the conversation, pulling your attention off Taehyung with his raspy tone. You press your lips together. "Taehyung, let me explain."

"I'm the one who got her into this mess though! I should be the one to explain," Taehyung argues. He falls back onto the couch, arms falling to the cushions, and heaves a deep sigh.

"It's not your fault that robber came into the diner tonight. There is no way you could've known that was going to happen, okay? Listen: you need a breather as much as Y/N does, so let me explain what's going on."

"Okay, okay." Taehyung relents, and his eyes find you again. You look straight ahead though, chin a bit dipped, and stare at the black combat boots that came to the table you were crouched under at the diner and the pale hands that pulled you out from under it to tell you that it was over.

The faint scent of cinnamon touches your nose as you sniffle, and you acknowledge the smell for the first time since coming to Taehyung's apartment. Warm. Cozy. Safe. Except you are anything but safe right now, and nothing about this situation feels comfortable or warm.

"Y/N, Taehyung is not part of the mafia or anything like that. Neither am I. We aren't drug dealers either, and there are no gangs. It's just a concealed handgun—” 

"That's not legal here though," you interrupt. Another surge of panic rushes through you at the idea of being involved in something illegal. That could mean that I won't be able to visit the hospital anymore, even if it is just the front lobby. Maybe they'll kick me out of university too. Fire me from my job. Then what? I can't pay the medical bills if that happens. I'm fucked.

"You really aren't making this easy, Y/N." Yoongi rubs his forehand, exposing the pale skin under his jacket, and you spot more black ink across it.

"Well, I'm sorry but how in the hell is any part of this situation supposed to be easy?"

"Okay. Fine. I am going to give you two options then. The first: drink the tea and regain your strength, then go back to your apartment and act like this never happened. The second—” 

"Done," you say before Yoongi can finishing explaining anything else. You jolt forward and snatch the mug from the table. The liquid burns your tongue and tastes like fire as it goes down your throat, but none of that is important in the moment. You just want to get out of here. Away from Taehyung, away from Yoongi, and away from the guns. The table trembles when you slam the mug back down against the surface. Both Taehyung and Yoongi wear similar expressions of wide eyes and dropped jaws. "Thanks for the tea, and thanks for saving my life I guess. I'll be leaving now." You hop up from the chair, blanket falling off your shoulders as you do, and head for the door without sparing either man another glance.

Then you're out the door and moving towards your own apartment with uncertain steps and weak knees.

I don't want to know, you tell yourself as you fumble with your keys and struggle to get the door unlocked. I don't need to know. Whatever the hell Taehyung is doing does not matter to me. It doesn't involve me. The less I know the better. You burst into your apartment, and the door slams against the wall hard enough to leave another dent in the plaster. It truly is in your best interest to walk away from Taehyung and Yoongi, ignore them and whatever insane life they're living, and focus on yourself. You don't need flowers anymore.

Hifumi is right. I shouldn't be wasting my money on flowers anyways. I should be saving the money for the medical bills. I should focus more on my studies.

The abrupt scream that leaves your lips surprises you. You aren't sure why the noise escapes — maybe the frustration and panic surrounding your situation or the realization that someone is reading your messages now of all times. Why now? I didn't get any calls from the hospital, they didn't give me any updates, so why? Why is this happening? Why tonight?

Knocking interrupts your train of thought, and the force behind it is so strong that you fear whoever is behind is may break the door. Your heart feels like it's beating in time with the rapid knocks. As you stand in the dark, part of you wants the night to be over and for you to wake up to find that it was all a dream. The other part panics because who the hell would be knocking at your door at this hour? Was it the robber from the diner? Did he follow you back here? Or maybe someone else is here to kill you.

"Y/N, open the damn door!" Taehyung, it's Taehyung's voice. Thank goodness. You stumble towards the door, and in your moment of panic, you forget about your intentions of putting Taehyung out of your life. Twisting the handle, you pull the door open to reveal Taehyung's face behind it. He pushes past you and into the apartment, leaving you to look at Yoongi, who stood hidden behind Taehyung.

"Are you alright?" Yoongi inquires. He stretches an arm out to touch your shoulder, but you shy away from his grasp.

"I'm fine. What's the problem?"

Taehyung rushes around your apartment, scouting out every corner and crevice in sight, and once everything is searched to his liking, he stops to look at you.

"Is someone here? Did something happen? Why did you scream?" He interrogates. You glance down at his hand, spotting the black outline of a gun in his grasp. When you turn back to Yoongi, you spot the same object tucked into the waistband of his pants.

"Di-Did you think—” you stop yourself as the lingering contents in your stomach churn. "No one is here. I'm alone." Why did he have to mention that? What if someone really is here? Dammit there's no way in hell I'll be able to sleep tonight.

"We heard you scream. I thought something happened," Taehyung explains. He tucks the gun behind his back, no doubt placing it in his waistband as Yoongi did. "Y/N, I know you would rather put this out of sight and out of mind. That's fine with me. If you really want to do that, then I won't stop you. Please, though, please stay at my apartment tonight. I need the peace of mind. It's the last thing you have to do for me, and after tonight, we don't ever have to talk again." You fold your arms over your chest. The plea sinks into your skin, and you stand in contemplation of the possibilities as Taehyung waits for your answer with bated breath. No. At least, that is what you ought to say. The puppy dog eyes — those damn puppy dog eyes — are present. How can I say no when he's looking at me like that?

"I—look, you're right next door. Isn't that safe enough for you? Even if it's not, why can't you just stay in my living room? Why do I have to go over to your apartment?" Arms fall to your sides, and you blink at Taehyung. He sighs, fingers coming up to tug at his loose hair, then looks behind you.

"My apartment is safer, Y/N."

"What? Do you have iron bars over the bedroom windows or something?" The man stays quiet in the face of your accusation, exchanging a glance with Yoongi.  "Oh my gosh, you have got to be kidding me. Taehyung, is that even allowed here?"

"Can we ignore that for now?"

"Fine, fine! Just let me change clothes, okay?" You sigh and scoot past him to get to your bedroom. Taehyung prevents you from making it to the door, taking quick steps to reach the wood before you do.

"What if someone is in there? Let me go first. I'll check it out." He jiggles the handle to no avail because you locked the door before leaving this afternoon. Without a word, he finds you with his eyes and waits. The sigh that leaves your lips is a long one, and after that, you unlock the door for him and pray that your room is in a decent enough condition to be seen. Then again, if someone really is in your room, then they've already seen the disaster inside so you shouldn't care all too much. Taehyung bursts into your bedroom with gun in hand, and you nearly scream at the suddenness of his action. The ease and fluidity of his actions shows that this is something he has done before, and he's done it enough times to be comfortable with it. If your heart could plummet any further in dread, it would. After everything that has happened this evening though, you think it's safe to say that you've reached your limit for dread and panic for the rest of the month.

"If it makes you feel any better, he's like this all the time." Yoongi appears at your side. You don't hear him approach, and the darkness in your apartment makes him blend in a bit too much for your liking since he's wearing an obscene amount of black. You jump, hand coming to your chest when he speaks. His eyes widen at your reaction, then fall to a relaxed state again after a moment. "Sorry, I do that a lot."

"I don't wanna know," you claim. Yoongi sends an indiscernible look your way, and you have to remind yourself that it's the truth even though there is curiosity in you that truly does want to know what the hell is going on with Taehyung. "I just want to go to bed and wake up tomorrow as though this didn't happen."

"Is that how you handle all your problems?" Yoongi asks as he watches Taehyung analyze every inch of your bedroom.

"It's the best way to handle problems," you counter. Heat rises on your cheeks, and you begin to feel a bit sheepish for acting so dramatic.

"Really? Let me know how that works out for you in the long run."

"I won't because this is the last time we'll be seeing each other." Again, Yoongi looks at you, and this time a smirk plays at his lips.

"Okay, Y/N."

"Hey, the violets look really nice!" Taehyung's voice cuts through your conversation. He grins at you from the doorway of your bedroom, the boxy smile seeming out of place alongside the gun in his hand. He tucks the weapon back into his waistband, then says, "It looks safe though, so you can go ahead and get whatever you need for the night."

"Oh, uh, thanks." You slide past him to get into your room, glad to see that it isn't as much of a mess as you thought it was. "Can you give me a few minutes? To use the bathroom and stuff?" Taehyung nods and hastily steps back into the living room alongside Yoongi. Shutting the door in their faces feels awkward but the moment of privacy makes it worth it. You head for the bathroom but once you get there, you sit on the floor to stare at your phone, the message you sent earlier still bearing the small insignificant word next to the block of text.

It can't be him. There's no way. The hospital would've called. Someone must have stolen the phone.

You force your shaking fingers to type out another message.

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. unread

   - who is reading my messages? why? what do you want? why do you have this phone?

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. unread

   - i know you can't be the actual owner of the phone because i would know if you were. answer me before the morning or i will call the cops.

Breathe, just breathe, Y/N. You place your phone back in your lap. The amount of time you have left before Taehyung starts to panic and think that someone snatched you from the apartment is dwindling, so you pull yourself to your feet and leave the bathroom. It's cold when you step back into your bedroom, but you like it that way typically, so you shouldn't complain. Tonight, however, it doesn't feel right; nothing does. The air filling your lungs, the cold touching your skin, the methodical rhythm of your heart straining against the confines of your rib cage.

You strip down to your undergarments slowly, peeling each layer away one by one, then you remain in the center of your room. Standing. Thinking. Wondering what the hell happened tonight still because you can't wrap your brain around it. The fan above your head is quiet, so quiet that you can hear Taehyung's voice through the wood of your door.

"She's taking too long, Yoongi."

"Leave her be for a few, Tae. I'm sure she's fine."

"What are we gonna tell the others?"

"Nothing for now. Eventually you'll have to say that you screwed up tonight."

"I screwed up? What the hell did I do?"

"You know the rules! You should've kept your ass in that booth and messaged Tower instead." Tower? Who in the hell… 

"I couldn't do that. Y/N looked way too terrified for me to just sit there and wait for Tower to get off his ass for once."

"Hey, keep it down. She might be able to…” Yoongi's voice dies down and even as you press your ear to the door, you can't hear whatever they're saying anymore.

"I knew it," you mutter under your breath. "It's some sort of drug cartel or the mafia or a gang. Oh my gosh, one of my neighbors is a stripper and the other is a criminal. What the hell?" You are vaguely aware of the fact that you are standing in nothing but a bra and underwear while pressed against your door -- and it isn't hot and sexy in any kind of way because you're alone. The main struggle of this whole night is coping with the fact that your messages say "read" and there is no explanation as to why. Until now actually, because your phone buzzes on your bed, a ding resounds through the room, and you lunge for the device without thinking twice.

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. read

   - who is reading my messages? why? what do you want? why do you have this phone?

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. read

   - i know you can't be the actual owner of the phone because i would know if you were. answer me before the morning or i will call the cops.

"Okay, okay, okay. Y/N, don't panic. Just breathe." You let the device fall to the mattress again. Yet there is still a tremble in your hands as you pull a fresh set of clothes out of your dresser. Your knees still feel weak when you press your legs through the holes of the pants, and a distinct pain lingers in your chest. You wish you were numb, or that the cold would sever this feeling from your body.

No buzz emits from your phone again. You leave your bedroom, bearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. If the night's events had not occurred maybe you would be more concerned about the way you look in front of the cute innocent flower boy that is Taehyung. Correction — that was Taehyung, because he no longer holds that image in your mind.

He and Yoongi have moved to your kitchen counter, where one stands on either side of the counter and exchange hushed whispers. The sound of your door opening does not divert their attention, so you clear your throat albeit a bit awkwardly because intruding on such a seemingly serious conversation does not feel right.

"I, uh, I'm ready whenever you are." You shift your weight from foot to foot and stretch your arms away from your sides. The image resembles something a young child would do to get the attention of her parents. You feel like at child too, because of the way you are being coddled and protected by Taehyung and Yoongi. The focus doesn't stay on either man for long as your phone buzzes in your hand. Taehyung speaks but the words go in one ear and out the other as you read the message you just received.

from jimin, 11:05 p.m. read

   - now that's not very fair, is it Y/N?

“Now that wasn’t very fair, was it, Y/N? C’mon, you gotta play fair!”

“I am! I haven’t done anything unfair. You’re the one who is supposed to be good at games, aren’t you?”

You stumble on thin air, grabbing hold of the door frame behind you to steady your wavering balance, and Taehyung stops talking at the sight of your blunder. Shit. Dammit. What the hell? There's no way…what the hell is going on?

"Y/N? Y/N! Hey, are you okay?" Taehyung's shouts grow increasingly louder as he gets closer to you.

"I'm fine," you hiss through gritted teeth. Gripping the wood tighter, you steady yourself and hold out your free hand to deter Taehyung from coming any closer. He pauses at the end of your hand, eyes lingering on the tips of your fingers then travelling up to your face. "I'm feeling a bit lightheaded from everything that's happened tonight."

"Come on, you can lay down as soon as we get back to my apartment." Taehyung wraps his fingers around the hand that you have extended. The warmth from his hand almost burns your cold fingers. He tugs you away from the door frame, and you lose your grip on it, knees locking as the support leaves you, but you manage to stay upright.

"I-I need to lock the door, Taehyung," you say when he pulls you into the hallway. You hold your keys out to prove your point, and Taehyung snatches them out of your hand before you can blink. He tosses them to Yoongi as he steps out to join the two of you in the hallway.

"And I need to make sure you're okay, Y/N." His features soften a bit as he looks down at you, a breathy sigh leaving his parted lips. "I feel responsible for what happened tonight. It's my fault for putting you in a position where you could be hurt, and it's my fault for letting you get this involved with things you're too good for. I'm sorry." The warmth of his hand leaves you, and the cold rushes back. You have to stop yourself from chasing the warmth of his touch.

"You couldn't have known that was going to happen," you argue.

"You really think so?" Taehyung's voice holds a melancholy thickness in it, and although he has his back turned to you now, you can picture the puppy dog eyes.

"Taehy—” 

"I could've picked any other place and this wouldn't have happened."

"That can't change anything now, Taehyung. As upset as I am, I still want you to know that I don't blame you for anything that happened. There's no way you could've known."

"That's where you're wrong, Y/N. I should have known, and I should've said no to you when you asked to get dinner because I know how dangerous it is to know a person like me." Taehyung won't look at you as he speaks. You follow him into his apartment again, the warmth scent of cinnamon hitting your nose once more. Yoongi follows close behind, your keys hooked on his index finger and jingling as he twirls them around, and he snaps the door shut. "Yoongi has the right idea. You ought to act like this never happened after tonight, because that's the best way for you to be safe. I promise that I won't bring you into anything ever again. You should avoid coming to the flower shop too. There are other places to get bouquets if you still want them, but I don't think it's smart for you to keep coming to me when you don't trust me and I'm dangerous."

"I know," you mutter. "That's my plan." Taehyung shifts from foot to foot, then turns to face you.

"Good. Yea…that's good."

The clinking sound behind you ceases.

"I'm getting a call," Yoongi announces, clearing his throat before he speaks. "I'll be right back, Char—Tae." He stumbles on the name, the first syllable spilling out awkwardly before he rushes to correct himself. You don't bother looking in Yoongi's direction, instead focusing on the flash of panic that flashes through Taehyung's brown eyes. He notices your stare lingering.

"Uh, come on, I'll show you my room." He motions for you to follow him and leads the way to his room. "I'm sorry if it's a bit messy. I wasn't really expecting…well, never mind." Taehyung opens the door to a dark room, one with blue painted walls and a pale carpet spread across the wood floor. The room illuminates as Taehyung flicks the light switch on. A bit messy, no. It's not that, and you couldn't call it that even if you were being nice. The mess starts near the front door, a pile of clothes beside the entrance, and it continues to the bed where the sheets are pulled back and almost tugged off the mattress. A pile of papers scatter haphazardly on his desk, crumpled up balls of paper fall from the surface to the floor, missing the trash bin only a few feet away. Across the window, sure enough, lie five rows of iron bars, the handiwork obviously belonging to someone who isn't an engineer or architect by any means. You decide not to comment and pass a smile Taehyung's way instead.

"Don't worry about it," you say.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"O-Oh, okay, well — uh just let me know if you do. I'll be right outside."

"Okay."

Taehyung glances over the mess again, and you see the internal debate etched across his features. He must talk himself out of picking anything up because he spins on his heel and steps out of the room, leaving you to stand alone. The two of you stare at each other. His grip tightens around the door knob. The tension hanging in the air thickens.

"Taeh—” 

"Y/N—” 

You speak at the same time. If the tension didn't exist, maybe both of you would laugh and urge each other to go ahead and speak first. Neither of you say anything though, voices dying in your throats. Taehyung pulls the door shut after a quiet apology, and you blink at the wood in shock.

"Oh." The sigh leaves your lips, a rush of air that feels warm against your cold mouth, and you turn away from the door. Sitting on the bed leaves a strange sensation in your gut, one that tells you that you don't belong here, this isn't your home, and even with the iron bars and Taehyung's promise of safety, you don't feel safe here. You're typing away at your phone in a frenzy now, mind reeling more and more as the night continues.

from y/n, 11:26 p.m. unread

    - i know you aren't really him, because the hospital would've told me if anything happened. so quit playing games and tell me who you really are.

What happened that night...you don't want to relive any of those memories, and perhaps you can use that as your excuse as to why you never visited his room in the hospital. Facing the consequences of your mistakes and decisions would be far too difficult for you to handle. Besides, as you told Yoongi earlier, the best way to deal with your problems is to run away from them. Leaving a vase of flowers in the lobby with instructions on which room to deliver them to was enough. It is enough. You won't change your mind on that decision.

A series of soft knocks touch the door and your ears at the same time, and you look up from your lap. It opens without your permission, and you half expect Taehyung to step through, a rectangular grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he would start talking about violets again, or go on about which flowers do best this time of year. But no, you have no such luck, because it's Yoongi who steps in with another steaming mug in his hands.

"More tea from Taehyung. He didn't want to bother you anymore though." Yoongi lifts the mug as he walks closer to the bed. The scent of peppermint mixes with cinnamon, and you wrinkle your nose. If Yoongi notices, he doesn't mention it; instead, he places the mug on Taehyung's bedside table beside a couple balled up pieces of paper. "You know," he says, "I don't blame you for wanting to run away from this situation."

"Who says I'm running away?"

"Oh, my bad. Isn't that how you deal with your problems?"

"It's not running away," you hiss back, glaring up at the leather clad man before you. He tilts his head, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth up.

"No need to get feisty."

"Don't act like you know me. We met only a few hours ago."

"Don't act like I haven't heard of you before today." Yoongi leans forward, bending at the waist to be eye level with you. "Taehyung is chatty, you know." You bite the tip of your tongue hard enough to draw blood, and Yoongi chuckles.

"What exactly do you want?" You ask.

"Nothing." You frown at the response, disbelief evident in your expression. "Alright kid, scoot over so I can sit."

"Um, kid?"

"You're a university student, so you must be younger than me."

"Aren't you the same year as Taehyung?"

"No, I graduated five years ago."

"W-What? But Taehyung said—” 

"He lied." Yoongi cuts you off, pushing the haphazard bed sheets around to make a spot to sit.

"What else did he lie about?" You mutter the question more to yourself than to Yoongi, but he responds anyways. The mattress creaks under the added weight, and you subconsciously shuffle away from him and move closer to the pillows at the head of the bed.

"He's not a bad person, Y/N. That's probably the only thing he's lied about."

"Except for his profession."

"Has he really lied about that? Think about it, Y/N. What do you know about him?"

"I thought I knew he was a university student who runs a flower shop."

"And both those things are true, aren't they?"

"But--"

"Have you ever asked if Taehyung does anything else on the side? Any other jobs? Hobbies? Commitments?"

"We-Well, no…” Yoongi lets that information sink in while you refuse to look his way, gnawing on the edge of your lip with a bit too much enthusiasm.

"What are you trying to blame him for?" The question stops you in your tracks.

What am I trying to blame him for? Nothing. I have no reason to blame him. And I'm not blaming him anyways, I'm just upset that he withheld that information, right? Isn't that what I'm upset about? Nearly dying, receiving texts from someone who shouldn't… 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes.

Freezing. Being unable to move. Crawling under the table in the diner. Crying. Puking. I'm upset that I didn't do anything. I'm upset that I couldn't do anything, not once but twice.

"I'm not trying to blame him for anything," you claim. There is a slight tremble in your tone, a quiet shakiness that Yoongi no doubt detects, but again, he does not comment on it. "I'm not."

"I understand that you don't want to know anything about our...profession, but I'll tell you one thing. We don't do the things we do out of enjoyment. It's out of necessity. A need. Whatever that may be: a job, money, help, something to bring home to family, a means of protection for a loved one. We do what we have to."

"I don't understand," you whisper. Glancing out the corner of your eye, you spot the resigned expression across Yoongi's delicate features.

"Take me for example. I don't enjoy the dirty parts of my job. Things like what happened tonight though? I know I helped Taehyung, and that's what is important to me. I know that the money I earn goes to paying for my younger brother's education. It keeps him from ever having to step in the muddy water I live in. Even if one day he learns what I do and calls me evil, I know that I've done what I can to keep him good." Yoongi stands up all the sudden, groaning along with the bed that squeaks in relief from the extra weight. "Take that as food for thought, Y/N, before you put us down for what we do."

The silence after he leaves the room is deafening. The scent of peppermint too strong in your nostrils, and you feel lightheaded.

Yoongi's words bear a striking resemblance to Hifumi's earlier in the day.

“You call me vile now, but you’ll find out soon enough that we can’t always do good things for the people we love. If it means saving someone, there is no line between good and evil."

We do what we have to.

It's a suffocating soliloquy, not a defense but a revelation. However many times you've wondered how Hifumi could have no shame in her work, Yoongi's explanation serves to shed light on her position as well. She does what she has to, just as Yoongi and Taehyung do.

"You just need to stop letting your ego get in the way of what really matters."

“And what would that be?”

“I can’t answer that for you, love.”

What really matters? You could put five people in a room and ask them that same question, and you would receive five completely different answers. What matters to one person is pointless to another. Take buying flowers from a shop across the street for example. To you, an important and crucial part of the day that serves to alleviate the pain from school and classes. To Hifumi, a waste of money and time based on childish hopes and admiration for a cute boy. Whatever Hifumi meant though, you cannot figure out. Your ego is not getting in the way of anything. You just want to get through school, pay off some hospital bills, and not go into debt because of university. Work as a speech and language therapist, doing good work and being a good person.

“Wow…that’s — uh, you’re a really good person. That’s amazing how you want to help people and do good things for others. I...I can’t imagine.”

Perhaps Taehyung's words make more sense now, knowing that he is a part of some less than savory things in his spare time.

“You…you are a person who has seen a lot of terrible and evil things, but you still see the good in the world nonetheless. You want to expect the best from people, and yet you’ve been disappointed so many times that you aren’t sure anymore. That’s why you’re studying linguistics and psychology. So that you can do something good in the future, something with an impact, something meaningful. You’re too good for this world, yea…no doubt about that.”

An impact.

Something meaningful.

Good.

Is that not what really matters?

You shift your gaze to the mug on the bedside table, and an unprecedented rage swells in your chest. They raise you to think that doing good and being good is all that matters. That no matter what evil you see or hear, you are supposed to be good. Help others by doing good and meaningful things. What if doing good things doesn't get you far enough? You stretch your hand out, knocking the mug to the floor as a cat would with a glass. The ceramic shatters upon impact. Hot tea splashes your bare feet, burning and scalding the skin. A rush? A feeling as though you've broken some sort of invisible chains? Why does it send a thrill of exhilaration up your spine and through your body?

The door bursts open, Taehyung and Yoongi standing behind it to find the source of the crash no doubt. You get to your feet. A shard of ceramic crunches under your toes, not enough weight put down to break the skin, but it stings nonetheless. Both men glance between the mess on the floor and your stony expression.

"Is everything alright, Y/N?"

Your phone is buzzing again, a series of vibrations against the bed, and a distraction for both Taehyung and Yoongi. You pull their attention back with your next words though.

"You said you would give me two options. I want the second, and I want to know everything."

...

written by: jungtaeyoongles

please do not copy, steal, or otherwise take this work.

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[dingoat]

Relationship Asks for Ahuska and Five: 2, 4, 7, 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29.

OH BOY OH BOY *cracks knuckles* time for another round of BEST GIRL VS WORST BOY.

Obviously this one needs a ‘read more’ (or ‘stick it behind a cut’ as my old school livejournal brain still thinks of it) because it’s gonna be a looonnnng one ahahaha. Some of these I’ve answered already but I’m just gonna copy-paste the responses here to keep it all together, especially since I’m gonna go through question by question for the sake of fun comparisons/contrasts rather than character by character!

2.  ♥  When they have a crush on someone, how do they let them know?

Ahuska finds ways to be around them as much as possible and offers rapt attention to everything they say and do, showing interest in every part of their life, even the things she’d never given a second thought for beforehand. She’ll initiate physical contact, often in that ‘accidental’ sort of way- a hand touch that lingers, sliding down a bench a little ‘too far’ and winding up pressed together at the hips, feet bumping under a table, but sometimes more overt things like snuggling down and resting her head in a lap while staying up late watching holos might happen...

Five does not crush, he’s not twelve years old. When he has an interest in someone he may spend a period of time testing for compatability, pushing and pressing for reactions, and if he finds himself still interested (but for whatever reason nothing has naturally escalated in the meanwhile), he will quite simply and overtly request private company.

4. ♥ Do they spend a lot of time in the courting stage or attempt to get to first base as fast as possible?

Ahuska likes the thought of a long courtship, being wooed and pursued, teasing and flirting and yearning... but though she doesn’t actively try to rush her way to ‘first base’, precedent definitely suggests that once the option is there, no matter the time frame, she doesn’t really hesitate.

Five considers ‘first base’ (if you must phrase it in such a juvenile fashion) to be a starting point.

7.  ♥ How do they feel about polygamy?

Ahuska’s intial gut reaction, when asked, is that it’s vastly preferable to having an affair! She thinks it’s a perfectly acceptable style of relationship, but it’s not something she’s ever related to herself- the thought that she might ever find herself loving and desiring more than one someone so deeply as to want them in her life to the same degree seems so beyond the realms of possibility that it’s just never crossed her mind. (Yet.)

However; she is incredibly committed and loyal in her relationships, and if she did find herself in such a place, she wouldn’t be able to handle sneaking behind backs or lies or secrecy; the guilt and misery and betrayal of trust would be the end of her. She would have to either leave one forever unrecognised/unsatisfied, or give polygamy some long and serious thought and very open discussion.

Five doesn’t really care what other people do, but it’s irrelevant to him because it suggests any kind of committed relationship at all. He simply sees who he wants, when he wants, and if anyone gets jealous of anyone else then that sounds like a them problem.

16. ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Aside from the obvious, I’m not sure Ahuska makes a point of keeping any particular activity exclusive? Sweet, potentially romantic activities like stargazing and long moonlit walks might naturally happen far more with the love of her life, but I don’t think she’d ever turn down the chance to do so with a close friend either (there’d just be less... hand-holding and cheek snuggles).

One might have thought that Five had a whole host of bonding activities exclusive to a single particular person... but what with that being more of a Watcher-Cipher thing, rather than a partners thing, that ‘exclusivity’ no longer exactly completely applies, whoops. (Granted, the new Cipher is not likely to ever experience the push-off-a-building trust exercise.) That said, it’s very likely that Thirteen is actually the only person who gets to experience Five in the context of completely casual, physical, and dare I say... affectionate company.

17. ♥ What sort of characteristics or quirks draw them to someone?

Ahuska needs to see the capacity for kindness, even if it’s wrapped in a crude, brash or sharp-edged package- or maybe especially so, because she is a little bit hopeless for a show of snark, cheek, and sharp wit (provided it’s not at her expense) and someone not afraid to draw blood to protect what they care about. She loves unexpected talents like dance or musical ability being sprung on her out of the blue, and she’s weak for demonstrations of confident competence.

Five is drawn to someone who can give and take as well as he can. Intelligence, attractiveness, skill. Wit and snark quite specifically at his expense so he has the opportunity to fight back; he wants to be challenged, but not beaten. His heart thunders for someone more physically capable than himself who he can, nonetheless, bring to their knees.

18. ♥ Do they have a ‘type’?

I thought Ahuska had a type, but I seem to have discovered that her heart is not quite so specific and compatability can come in more than one shape and size. She has a lot of love to give and can find it in very unexpected places.

Five definitely goes for people who demonstrate one very specific physical characteristic.

19. ♥ What was their first impression about their partner/person they are courting?

When Ahuska first saw Crow, she was struck with the fact that he didn’t carry himself with the alpha-dog machismo she’d come to expect from fellow Mandalorians of his particular demographic. And when he turned his grin her way, he very very firmly snared her attention.

When Ahuska first met Blakk, she simply thought he was a delightful, feisty, dear little fox, and was absolutely besotted with him, if not in the way that she eventually became (after the wildest possible ride of misunderstandings and twisted events and broken trust and reforged faith).

Five, I think, would have made a very swift and completely superficial assessment, found it very pleasing (provided there was no fashion disaster occurring at the time), and opened himself up to learning more. It wouldn’t have taken long to be drawn into that personality, either.

21. ♥ What was the most romantic time they had with their partner?

Ahuska’s most romantic time with Crow would almost definitely be their space-walk through the ice fields of Saleucami, followed by some slightly less life-threatening zero gravity playtime within the safety of their ship’s cargo hold. They’ve had a lot of terribly sweet moments but I’m not sure that any compare to that honeymoon trip.

With Blakk, Ahuska has experienced a number of wonderfully romantic moments... in their shared dreams. It can be hard to compete with a world where auroras and starlight of your own creation dance to the beat of your hearts as you discover just how real you are to one another, but in many ways that last morning they spent together in person before parting, before anything between them was properly admitted or understood, waking to the warmth of the sun and sharing a long breakfast together full of soft yearning and denial of the inevitable separation to come ranks very high on the heart aching romance scale.

Five understands ‘textbook romance’ perfectly well and has probably walked through all the steps with great success a number of times when seducing marks back in his Cipher days. But when it comes to his own actual desires….. it really is hard to apply the word ‘romantic’. Granted, he does enjoy the finer things in life and takes great pride in being a very good cook, and a certain someone knows exactly how to push his buttons to get most exactly what he wants out of him when he feels like it. So there probably have been some almost ‘nice’ evenings of home cooked meals and fine wine and bath oils, at least to begin with….?

22. ♥ Tell us about a sacrifice they made for their significant other.

Ahuska gave up Clan life, the chance to rise through the ranks and be the Mandalorian she never thought she could, and a lot of her innocence, to be with and stay with Crow.

For Blakk, Ahuska broke off her current romance, turned her back on her safety net, and basically gave up everything she had... just for the hope that they might find away to actually be together.

Five gave up a significant measure of control on two distinct occassions, both of which were considerably big deals for him.

23. ♥ Do they apologize to their partner even if it wasn’t their fault?

Ahuska will readily and even pre-emptively take on the blame for almost anything. If something is genuinely her fault, she will apologise profusely and genuinely, probably through tears, and feel bad about it long after forgiveness has been given. She will offer apologies even when not directly at fault if she thinks it will help to calm down or diffuse a situation.

Five, though, doesn’t do the ‘accepting blame’ thing and certainly won’t shoulder somebody else’s. The one occassion where he has accepted responsibility, he’s never actually said the word sorry aloud, and he’s not even come clean about the real circumstances. But his guilt over the matter is expressed still to this day, through actions and gifts that are never actually directly linked to the event in question.

27. ♥ Have they had dreams about their partner/the person they are courting?

Ahuska most certainly has; dreams are a significant part of every reality she experiences, and often a way that binds them together, so naturally the significant people in her life feature prominently. She’s leery of anything that has a sense of being prophetic, but does believe she’s witnessed possible futures in her dreams and the ones that suggest a long and full life with Crow are her favourites.

Through her Force-bond with Blakk, she’s been able to actually share dreams with him, which have been very profound experiences... but at the moment her dreams are only dreams, and any real senses she gets of him vanish the moment she tries to focus enough to actually reach him. It hurts.

Five dreams as anyone does, and there’s no doubt Thirteen would feature in them regularly. Nothing magical, nothing profound or prophetic, just good old fashioned disjointed images that the brain strings together in a loose approximation of a plot. What’s most disconcerting is if he makes any sort of appearance in his recurring nightmares.

28. ♥ Do they understand their partners/person they are courting’s feelings without them having to say anything?

Ahuska becomes very attuned to the people she cares most about; she’s naturally a very sensitive person who wants to understand her partners’ feelings, and her desire to understand and do the best for the people she loves is only ever enhanced by her connection to the Force. She’s connected to Crow through all their years and shared experiences together, and being tuned into the beat of his heart definitely helps her know his feelings despite what he might show on the outside. With Blakk she has the benefit of being literally bonded through the Force but... well. Hopefully they wind up back in a position where understanding one anothers’ feelings is a legitimate thing they can do. ;_;

Five is quite astute, if not completely fool-proof, and when he puts the effort in can do quite a servicable job of knowing where someone’s feelings are at- manipulation is one of the tools of his trade, after all. Just how much he actually cares to do so is a different story, but, well... stranger things have certainly happened. He might try to claim that Thirteen is an open book to him, but that might just be what Thirteen wants him to think.

29. ♥ How do they express their love to their partner?

Ahuska gives freely and openly, her time, her energy, her patience, her body and soul. She will share anything and everything, she will take risks for her partner and forsake all the rest of the galaxy for them. She will find little tokens to gift them; she will feature them amongst her sketches regularly, she will listen to them and back them up and walk beside them on the most foolardy of pursuits. She will find what matters to them, she will discover what they react and respond to best, and she will make it so. Ahuska doesn’t know how to love in any way other than giving it her all.

Five would never use so soft and loaded a term as ‘love’. That is for a completely different caliber of people, people he cares little for. Allowing someone into his apartment, into his personal space, is a reasonable demonstration fo trust. Giving someone his time outside of and completely unrelated to work is a monumental demonstration of fondness. A willingness to touch and be touched outside of immediate bedroom activities is a grand display of affection. Offering financial assistance/security is an unspoken indication that someone matters to him. Lump it all together and he’d still sooner shoot himself in the foot than admit aloud that he cares.

[five-wow]

10.14!! i watched it!! here are some thoughts!! (actually a lot of thoughts because looking back it kind of got away from me in a big way, wow.)

i did NOT know the episode was going to cold open on eddie running straight into traffic and steve being a heroic idiot who manages to save both his dog and his own life more through sheer luck than any particular skill, but oh dear god, that was intense.

and then we have danny sitting in a bar somewhere and staring down a glass! looks like they’re both putting their morning to great use.

this woman who comes in and starts talking to danny? i love her. she is awesome. (i know she’s going to die based on the episode description, but for now, i’m choosing to ignore that and just enjoy her presence.)

ALSO the lady bartender who tells danny he should listen to the woman because she sounds like she knows what she’s talking about? i love her, too. she only gets to say maybe three sentences but i’m already mostly convinced that danny’s mystery woman should probably ditch him for this bartender lady. mystery woman is doing ALL the work here, and danny is just kind of present.

fjdkfdjk danny excusing himself for the phone call with “it’s a work thing” and then the VERY FIRST THING steve says is “relax, it’s not a work thing”. i’m laughing so hard, but also, that’s just ?? genuinely like they’re reading each other’s mind from opposite ends of the island, or wherever danny may currently be. (AND an immediate sign that danny’s excuse to pick up steve’s call in the middle of a conversation was not a good one, or true, for that matter. i wouldn’t necessarily call this a lie, but with danny’s track record when it comes to telling women he’s dating the truth, this is also not the greatest start of a relationship, maybe, omg.)

danny, just after a really awesome and super pretty woman approached him in a bar even though he’s got basically nothing going for him at the moment, offers to come home because eddie isn’t feeling well. and. i mean. it’s not that that’s not sweet or that it’s not a good offer to make because maybe steve needs emotional support even if eddie doesn’t, but it also really really sounds like danny is kind of hoping for a reason to fully excuse himself from his impromptu date.

also, fdjkf, danny teasing steve about the pretty vet lady is cute but confusing to me, because steve met her right before he spent upwards of a month stalking his mother in columbia and he can’t have been a great person to be dating right after that, either, so how is that relationship even still going? i just assumed that was a casualty of life getting in the way, but apparently this vet is either a very, very patient woman or almost creepily invested after just a single date, if she’s giving steve this much time to just randomly disappear on her.

AND THEN steve asks danny if he wants to join steve to grab a bite to eat and finally, finally! danny mentions that there might be someone waiting for him, and this is low key hilarious to me all over again because i’m sure it’s not really meant this way, but i’m reading this now as danny going “no! i totally am not looking for an excuse to get away, because i am having a great time!” while also  feeling a need to reestablish his own dating prowess after steve’s last date was just mentioned and/or hoping to maybe make steve a little jealous for that same reason.

danny starts telling mystery woman how he’s deduced that she must be new to the island! i really like this, both because danny is finally contributing something to the flirting (he has a personality!) and because it makes such perfect sense for that to be something danny picks up on, considering his own history when it comes to integrating on hawaii.

danny: “[hawaii] grows on you.” yes, mystery woman! all you need is to find another woman you can have strong sexual tension with for a decade while raising two kids together, moving in a couple of times and getting mistaken for a couple regularly while also clinging to your heterosexuality like it’s a life raft even though you keep ignoring all your heterosexual partners, and you’ll feel right at home, just the way danny does!

WHOOP. they’re making out in the bathroom now. that escalated quickly, fjdkf.

they were giggling and moaning and talking loudly the entire time, but when danny tries to leave through the door mystery woman needs to check if the coast is clear first or they’ll get busted. oh, you guys. i think poor bartender lady already knows, as basically the only other person in this empty bar.

also: danny has a rental car?? from steve suggesting food i kind of assumed danny is still on the island and in the area, but apparently he couldn’t take either his own car or steve’s truck, because then it would get wrecked during the car crash that’s scheduled later on in this episode, i guess. good thinking, danny!

they have baseball and the east coast in common! that’s cute! (though i also can’t help but be reminded of melissa, who was from new york, and feel like this woman is turning into melissa 2.0, gosh. this first meeting is better so far, though! danny is not creepily car stalking a much younger woman he only met for two minutes at a gas station - well done, danny.)

they have a Moment and then someone coming towards them on the road is being an idiot and danny swerves and the car FLIPS and i don’t think danny is getting his deposit on this rental back.

the pretty doctor is making a house call for steve and steve is too anxious about eddie to even think about the fact that this should probably be a little awkward somehow, oh my gosh. he just rambles ahead about eddie’s problem, like a good dad.

danny and mystery woman are both looking very banged up and bloody, but mystery woman has part of the license plate number of the car that nearly hit them and tells danny to give it to the police so nobody else will get hurt! she continues to be awesome.

fdjfkdjkfdj, so steve gets an answer about eddie (he’s showing signs of post-traumatic stress) and he and the doctor have a serious conversation about that and then he walks her to the door and THEN he goes “emma, before you leave, i feel like i should probably bring up the, uh-” and she fills in “how you never called me back”. oh my GOD, steve. he went on a date with this woman, never called her again (somewhat understandably from his side, but still) and then DID call her, but to ask her to come make a house call because his dog is acting weird, and she granted him this favor and acted like not just a professional but a really kind one. WHY do these disaster men get paired with these perfect women, fjdk.

steve!! tells her!! he has issues balancing work and personal life!! and it honestly isn’t that much because it’s missing huge chunks of what really went down, but oh boy, this is already A Lot and i’m surprised we’re getting this much and i’m proud of him!!

she’s seeing someone! she tells him no hard feelings! she tells him she believes him when he says it’s not about her but about his problems! GROWN UP RELATIONSHIP TALK. i mean, there was never much of a relationship here to start with perhaps, but STILL, i love this. very good. A+.

steve’s face after she leaves though, oh my gosh. he seems a little shellshocked that he actually just had that conversation, maybe a little disappointed in himself that he let things happen this way.

lou is at will’s college for parents weekend! and there is talk of decorating will’s dorm room, which is cool, but also confuses me a little bit because i’m assuming will’s been living in that room for many months by now.

wait, okay, i’m more confused: lou is calling about eddie because tani texted him that eddie wasn’t feeling well, which is cool! family keeping family in the loop! except then steve says that the vet just left and said it might be pts, and then lou suddenly says he knows someone whose expertise is in military working dogs, and he already reached out to him and that’s the part where i go ? because how did lou already know it would be pts, or anything of the sort? what was this specialist supposed to do if the vet had just diagnosed eddie with some regular dog disease?

i was so caught up in the euphoria of steve attempting to communicate emotions and the whole ohana pulling together to help eddie that i almost forgot about the car crash, oh shit. danny of course can’t get cell service, because these things always happen in the middle of nowhere in fiction, because it would have been too easy if he could have just called an ambulance.

the new vet super clearly telling steve that this is in no way his fault and that he shouldn’t feel wrecked with guilt over eddie’s pain is !! very good!!! this episode is about eddie’s pts, but steve’s getting to work through some issues too, here, wow.

steve calls tani on the way back home with eddie and tani is just randomly in a car with quinn?? i love it. it’s super unclear to me if they’re working today or if they’re just hanging out in a car, plus quinn doesn’t say a single word in this entire scene, but i love that she’s there, regardless.

OOF. mystery woman has been impaled on some thing that stuck through the back of her car seat, and yes, that’s definitely some great drama and not something i saw coming, but also. oh my god. i don’t think that should be a thing that happens if you’re in a crash that left the car pretty well intact overall, so who the hell designed a car that sometimes sticks something metal through the passenger seat if it rolls?

mystery woman: “just tell me. just don’t lie to me, please don’t lie to me now.” OKAY a) this is very brave of her and i still love her a lot, b) PLEASE DON’T LIE TO ME is a very loaded thing to hear one of danny’s love interests tell him to his face because of danny’s aforementioned penchant for lying to them. this is a very different situation and he was just trying to keep her calm, but still.

“it’s a little bad” is both objectively the truth (well done, danny, proud of you too this episode) and a hilarious way to describe the situation. unintentionally hilarious, for sure, but hilarious.

the guy tani and quinn talk to at the base is really helpful and nice! “i hope the warrior is better soon”, aww.

tani, reporting on eddie to quinn: “mcgarrett was trying to settle him for a nap. he did lap up some of the water from the bowl that i brought though, so that’s good.” quinn, with absolutely no change in expression: “huh, that’s weird. did you tell him the water was for eddie.” i am. i am giggling so much. this is exactly my kind of humor and it was perfectly timed to release the pent-up tension from everything that is happening, thank you, quinn.

tani and quinn have a talk about tani’s worry about junior and HOW is this episode suddenly so filled with absolutely awesome moments for female characters, i am flabbergasted. i mean, really really happy because i love the mystery woman and the vet was perfect and now we’re getting some beautiful tani & quinn interaction while they’re helping steve out, but this was not what i expected to find in this episode.

everybody wants to help eddie and it’s making me cry, ahhh.

AHA. danny and mystery woman talk about rachel!! danny says they’ve been “sorta trying to work it out for the last year or so” and then that “we’re better of as friends” and on the one hand i’m REALLY GLAD we’re getting some kind of word on this, because it was odd enough as was but now that danny seemed to be open to dating someone else it was even more necessary to know he’s not still dating rachel too, but on the other hand i’m kind of sad it’s second-hand? i’d have liked an episode with rachel actually in it to work this out.

ohhhh god. danny hears a car so he wants to go up to the road to stop it, but mystery woman tells him to stay, but he goes anyway, so wanna bet that when he gets back after he probably doesn’t even manage to stop the car, mystery woman is dead? eep.

oh! that went a lot quicker than expected and mystery woman is in fact still blinking when danny approaches the crashed car again, so she is not dead yet! good news! now danny gets to watch her die, hooray!

tani and quinn walk onto steve’s beach and that’s such an odd sight but also a really nice one!

ohhh, they were headed for the neighbor. and then they say hi and introduce themselves as people who work with steve and this woman immediately starts rambling about the biodiversity of hawaii, no holds barred and with the hugest smile about it, and here we have ANOTHER woman i immediately love with all my heart, holy shit.

i was a little afraid that they might have to fight the lovely neighbor to get the plant that triggered eddie’s pts removed, but they DON’T, they really really don’t have to fight her because she immediately gets it and says she’ll get rid of the plant in question and that makes me very happy on so many levels.

danny manages to stop a truck!!! and this guy asks zero questions about all the blood on danny’s clothes, but i guess that’s a good thing at this point.

!!! eddie and steve are cuddling on the couch and quinn goes “aww, look at you two. love is real.” and YES. i RELATE.

okay, everything about this scene is perfect, actually, because tani jumps in to agree with quinn and then quinn says the chasing somebody to the airport like they do in romcoms is a little psycho, and that really doesn’t absolve the h50 writers of slightly psycho things they’ve done when it comes to romantic relationships but i like the burn anyway, ha.

STEVE OPENS UP TO QUINN AND TANI about relating to eddie’s panic and feelings of being lost and he’s basically saying “yeah, i know what pts is like” and i just. i am full of emotions. thank you, whoever wrote this.

oh gOD though, tani asks steve how danny is and steve says “i spoke to him this morning, he is good” and that’s obviously a painful moment to be saying that seeing as we, as the audience, know how danny is actually doing at that moment.

and then there’s a knock at the door and quinn says “maybe that’s him now” and steve gets up as he says “not unless he forgot his key” and i SCREAM. it makes total sense that danny would have a key, and doubly so because he’s literally been living at steve’s for months, but they WAY they just casually had him throw that out there is QUITE SOMETHING.

oh danggg, it’s adam.

huh. steve welcomes him home and hugs him and i’m a little confused because wasn’t there still a criminal investigation pending for adam’s actions? did that get resolved? wasn’t steve still a little mad at him and completely unsure what was happening?

ah, we get a somewhat dramatic zoom on steve’s face that tells us that steve definitely still has questions.

so danny climbs back down to the crashed car after calling for help and he tells mystery woman that his name is danny and THEN she dies, right before she can tell him her name. at this point i’ve been expecting it for ages and it’s not exactly a shock, but jfc, they definitely managed to pick a very traumatic moment for this to happen.

danny just... gets back up to the road and starts walking away as the ambulances arrive and that’s a nice and symbolic end but also, uh, some poor emt is going to have to jog after him and try to wrestle him into an ambulance to get himself checked out. danny. danny, come back.

in the end, i !!! REALLY LOVED this episode. i didn’t expect to, because i was pretty sure mystery woman would die and i wasn’t into the idea of introducing a love interest for danny and then killing her off. truth be told, i’m still not into that and i hate that she had to die to give danny a painful episode (and that we still don’t know her name, which i get from the storytelling perspective because it adds a layer of pain but it also feels kind of bad from a please-respect-women perspective that she’s quite literally nameless), BUT at least i really really loved her character, which is honestly already more than i thought would happen, and THEN there was the other plot this episode!! the one with steve working through trauma and eddie getting help from everyone and tani and quinn being awesome and us getting to meet one of steve’s neighbors for the first time and her turning out to be an adorable plant nerd, and all of that, i adored it. i know danny’s car crash was supposed to be the center of this episode, but for me it kind of got swept aside by my elation over what was happening in steve’s house, and all the really awesome women this episode threw at us, holy shit.

[rkrosememories]

hello everyone, i hope you’re all well. happy rkfifth! five years, that’s a fair portion of time, half a decade in fact! i was contemplating on whether i wanted to write up one of these posts, as i usually do something similar when my own personal anniversary with rookies comes around, but for the sake of this being the big ol’ 5, i’m willing to do it. let’s take a walk down memory lane shall we and see where it all began for little ol’ me ( i got a job interview today, yay! )

i joined the krp community in august 2014, and rookies was one of those rps i considered joining, and a part of me wishes i did. i didn’t though, i found the large size of the roleplay to be somewhat intimidating so i ended up going on to make my own idol themed roleplay; which was fairly successful in its own way! ( r.i.p apollokrp ). but, i did end up meeting steph there, and eventually, i would end up being convinced to join rookies in july 2015; bringing forth my first rk muse, rkseokmin ( that’s dokyeom of seventeen, btw ). he didn’t last for long, and neither did my other two muses rkkyungri ( yes, i roleplayed kyungri prior to this, looking back, she was sort of like rkrose, being from australia and all ) and rksana, who i brought to rookies in july 2015 and december 2015. and now, looking back i don’t really have any strong attachments to these muses, i think i really just brought them in on a whim, and it wouldn’t be until the following year that i truly found my place at rookies.

come may 2016, season three of the mgas had begun and i decided to give rookies another go. damn rp! pulling me in and trying to get me invested! this time round, i brought forth a muse which y’all will definitely be familiar with. rkjuyeon, who was known as rkseo back then. and for anyone newer, that’s rksaercm. it all began with her, my tall dancing gay who had ambitions of idoldom since a young age. she had auditioned with her cousin in a process called the deathmatches ( you guys, if you weren’t around during like ... early 2016, you won’t know the pain of reserving / applying etc. as the old main blog was ancient. anyways, bless the rookies team for keeping everything going for so long ) and she failed to make it through. meanwhile, her cousin ends up winning the whole goddamn program. what a fluke. i did end up dropping her though, although she did return a few months later in september!

and we fast forward to july 2016; enter rkrose. blackpink’s iconic dance practice video was released and instantly fell in love, with one member in particular ( everyone was ranting and raving about lisa, but i couldn’t take my eyes off of the girl with braids in her hair ). that girl, was park chaeyoung, who like me, is a fellow australian! i instantly knew that i had to bring her to rookies, along with rose and keith ( who play lisa and jisoo, and eventually lari would end up completing the rkblackpink lineup that we know today with jennie ). looking back, i don’t really know how i envisioned rkrose to be; i mean, she was signed to royal within her first six months of being at rookies! she won the kt & royal contest, if ya didn’t know! she is probably the muse i am most well-known for, likely for not so good reasons. she’s been through countless “scandals” in her time, things of which are likely both of our faults. i’m not ashamed of her though ( more so of my own actions ). i think she’s a good egg.

when rookies gave us permission to go ahead with third muses, i think we all went a little crazy. i’ve had quite a few third muses, some whom i’m sure i can’t really remember, but rkchangkyun and yugyeomrk come to mind; i’m sure some of you might be baffled to know that i’ve ever actually roleplayed a male before, considering the fact that all i talk about on twitter is girls and girl groups. ah i forgot i did actually bring rkclaudia to rookies, aka moon hyuna. but we come full circle, and in march 2018, we meet rkkyungri, who is my third and final muse at rookies ( unless y’know, y’all wanna open up fourth muses to the public rk, because i’m down for that, i have many stories to share still wink wonk ). she was unlike any of my rookies muses; an ex-idol who failed at achieving her dream the first time round.

so, here we are, december 2018; i’ve given you a rather comprehensive and detailed run down on my past with rookies, muses wise that is, because there is a ton more to talk about. and i shall, because i want to be able to commemorate this special occasion! i think it is healthy to reflect on things that have happened in the past, so we can learn from our mistakes and better ourselves as people and writers. i have had my fair share of negative and positive experiences at rookies, and i think it’s normal to. rookies is a really big place, and people are bound to bump heads and not get along, that’s just human nature. i think that a good portion of my problems at rookies have been because of miscommunication. so new members, please take a leaf out of my book and remember that communication is key! also don’t get swept up in ooc drama and take your problems to the mods! that’s what they’re here for ( and they do an excellent job of it, thank you guys <33 ).

i really am invested in rookies; invested in the plot, the characters and their stories. i think it’s so amazing that we have a place on the internet where things can unfold and happen in real time almost. krp can be so fast-paced and it’s refreshing to see a place like rookies. i don’t think i could ever truly leave rookies behind, well, one day i’m probably going to have to, but that is another thing; rk is always there. rookies has reached five years. five! years! and that is a momentous occasion, because some rps don’t even see five months. as someone who has been an admin countless of times in the past, i have always wondered how rookies withstood the test of time, and now, having been apart of rookies for nearly three years, i think i understand now. many things go into making a roleplay work: the admin team and the members must work cohesively together, and i think we at rookies all do a good job of that. 

i have learnt a lot at rookies, and i think i definitely have a lot more to learn and experience. i must say, going into the new year, i really want to work on being more productive. some of you amaze me! replying every week, getting those points! you get that, pal! it’s really, really inspiring, and i want to be more like that. i’m honestly amazed i’ve made it two years at rk, as i’m someone who gets bored easily ( i also have commitment issues to some extent ). there have been countless occasions where i’ve wanted to give up and drop my muses, be it lack of motivation or drama, but the sole fact that i’ve dedicated two whole years to creating these characters is an incentive to keep going. i’ve always loved writing and i love that i have a space to share my creativity, interests and dreams with like minded people! i think that rings true for a lot of other people, but i’m sure y’all have your own reasons for sticking around.

i don’t think a post like this would be complete without some shout outs, but this part for me will probably be lacking, whoops. maybe i can make that another goal of mine. socialise more.

steph ( @jungwooxrk​​ ), thank you for introducing me to rookies and convincing me to join. we’ve been friends since december 2014!?! which feels like a long ass time. you were my first real internet friend and i’m very grateful to of met you. thank you for writing with me and putting up with me!

rose ( @rklisa​ ), keith ( @rkjisoo​ ) & lari ( @rkjennie​ ), rkblackpink is precious and means so much to both me and rkrose. although we don’t talk as much as much as i would like ( or we should??? ) i’m so happy that we’ve got y’all, i hope that our girls can experience many more things together. 

shinobi ( @rkkangjoon​ ) thank you so much for putting up with me. we’ve been through a lot of crap but i’m really thankful that we’re still able to talk despite everything. i hope you know that kangjoon will forever be important to rose, he was her first real boyfriend after all! thank you for putting up with us both! we love you! <33

peach ( @rkhaechan ) i don’t think rkrose would be who she is today without you and the help of jaebum. after a year of depression i think she’s back on her feet though!! toughest 12 months as a writer! but, despite everything we’ve been through, i’m so thankful we’re still able to talk. i also love your new muses, haech is a cutie & i love him very much :((((

lemon ( @rkyena ) aaaaaah i can’t believe i forgot to put you in here, i’m so sorry. thank you sO MUCH for putting up with me and my forgetfullness. i really love seoyoung as a muse and i’m excited to see her grow as an idol! also saeseo?! 

nana ( @younghyunrk​ ) i’m so thankful that i get to talk to you almost everyday!? i feel as though these past few months we’ve been able to get close which is exciting because you are awesome & i treasure you a ton! i’m excited for whats to come in the following months for our muses! hopefully we meet when i fly over your way sometime soon! i love youuu!!! <33

royal and sphere trainees! i would tag you all, but i’ll be here forever. thank you for making me feel included, even if i don’t participate in the group chat! i love our group antics, like photocard swapping, that was fun. thank you for taking care of both me and my girls, rose and saerom. i would like to work on getting closer to y’all!

and our incredible mod team, you know who they are, they know who they are. thank you so much, for everything you do. you guys keep this place safe, happy and running for all of us, all while writing for your own muses and keeping up with real life stuff like work and school?! incredible! amazing! fantastic! thank you for being so accepting and welcoming and supportive. i love y’all a ton and i don’t think this little message truly explains how grateful i truly am. thank you, for all that you do. 

i’m sorry if i forgot anyone in particular, i probably did and i’m sorry; i don’t have the greatest memory. just know that i’m grateful for you! even if we’ve never spoken to eachother before! thank you for making rookies the place it is! that being said, i should probably work on wrapping this whole thing up, since it’s getting pretty darn long and i would like to do some things today prior to this job interview i have later ( please send positive vibes, i’m going to need them ; _ ; )

these past two, nearly three years have been absolutely wonderful. i’m bummed i didn’t join rk back in the day but maybe the fact that i joined later was a good thing? i mean, everything happens for a reason right? these years have been hard and tiring but also very exciting and rewarding, and i’m very enthused to see where 2019 takes me and my girls, along with you and your muses! lets work hard and be happy, happy rkfifth everyone <3

  - lots of love, from sacha!

[memoriashell]

webs

Characters / Pairing: Muffet, some vague Mettaton / Muffet, some vague Undyne / Muffet, some Napstablook, and if you really squint you might see some Alphyne in the bg.

crossposted on ao3 ft. the full extent of my notes

Notes: Hi @roxrezi, I'm your secret santa! Since I quite love myself some Muffet, I thought I’d write something with her for you. I also really wanted to try writing some Undyne / Muffet and Mettaton / Muffet, and somewhere along the way I went from planing out something with everyone’s first holiday on the surface to... an exploration of various route endings and not at all holiday related. Whoops. This was also supposed to be a lot shorter, but here we are at 4k words instead. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! This was done as a part of @undertalesecretsanta . Thank you mods for all your efforts in hosting the event! 

Summary:  Webs are a sticky, tricky thing, really. Fortunately, spiders know how to untangle themselves from even the trickiest of webs.

( an apt way to view the branches of fate, really )

A human, they whisper, a human is coming. Get the soul and you will be rewarded.

And so, once again, Muffet finds herself with a renewed purpose. She has grown tired of fussy monsters who will not help her, of having to swindle for even a little bit to be thrown her way. She won’t need to bake for profit ever again if she succeeds. She can finally relax.

Soon. Soon she will have enough, and everything will be alright. The spider clan will be rich and able to be reunited, and they can all be happy together, and she will be happy too—

( — and this is the thought she hold onto when the frying pan slams down on her body ).

i.

The Ruins are ( mostly ) empty. Same goes for Snowdin, and Waterfall—

She wonders if they were bored by the time they got to Hotland. Despicable, really, but seeing as they hadn’t harmed her or her spiders, she can’t completely hate them either.

No, that is a lie, Muffet absolutely detests that human. Her spiders may come first, but that does not make her heartless when it came to other monsters. But she is a woman of her word, there was no reason to kill a human that had supported her cause.

( Was it wrong of her to have done so? Perhaps. Maybe then, there would be a little more liveliness left in the Underground, flashy and loud— )

Napstablook is generous enough to assist her with arranging help with getting the spiders out of the Ruins; the fact that, despite everything, her spiders can be reunited is barely a silver lining, but she’ll take what she can get. The fact that she can afford to bring them home hardly matters, when the Underground is so sparse and the Ruins are opened up once again. It’s not even nearly as much of a hassle, as cold as Snowdin is to travel through. Traps and puzzles are deactivated, there is no need for those things anymore, so there is little but the cold to slow her down.

The spiders are back home, where they should be. Hotland is more or less the same, minus two voices— one loud and glamorous, one not so. Everything should be fine, by those standards.

But it’s not.

It is not.

The world just does not feel quite right.

ii.

Every king needs their queen— no, that is a lie. Mettaton needs no one, if she is to be honest, but she is good at her job.

Muffet dangles from her web, flaunting— a menacing flash of her flash of her fangs. Intimidate their ‘foes’ into confessing their ‘crimes’— work that she could leave to that skeleton, sure, but Sans has always been lazy. She, however, never slacks off.

( Perhaps no real wrongdoings have been done, but it’s fine discarding a few extra ingredients from the batch. Better than letting them sit and go bad— rotten ingredients were never any good. It would spoil the whole batch!

Besides, her pet, her darling Cupcake needed a treat to be rewarded with. What better than something she needed to get rid of anyways? )

It wasn’t like she did not benefit from it either. Why would she serve a fussy customer— no, let her rephrase that: Muffet found no point, no joy in serving someone who did not service her needs too. Even when that someone was the ruler of the Underground, known for whispers of sudden disappearances; she had enough pride left that she would not let herself be squished under Mettaton’s heel like some pest. Her spiders had been brought home with his generosity, and it is oh so fun to watch monsters squirm when she watches them with two, four, five eyes, and claps in joy with her hands— that is a thrill unlike anything else, one that even the capturing of a soul surely wouldn’t have brought. It is not all bad, the monsters had never done anything to serve her, why should she spare them now?

( There is a reason why monsters do not come to her parlor anymore ).

No, while the spider monster might hold a grudge for none of them to be willing to help her cause, that was then and this is now. This is a matter of business, dearie, did you not understand that? Muffet coos and is amused in her tittering, as she watches confusion spread across features.

Spiders may live with her now, but that did not mean that some did not linger in other parts of the Underground. Allow for the whispers to reach corners and make its way back to her. It was always a fun choice to make, what to do with that information. Let one of the ‘agents’ handle this? Handle it herself? Do nothing with it?

( Those who enter the parlor do not usually leave ).

Of course, she can always hand the task over to Mettaton, but she usually left that for the worst offenses only. It was much more delightful to watch and wait to see how he’d react on such occasions, if it was worth making a mess of himself for. More often than not, the answer was yes, and she would make sure the webs were keeping the prey in place, maybe paralyze them if they seemed particularly rowdy, but otherwise sat back to admire his work.

Despite it all, she does not think he’s a bad person— would that not make her a bad person too? Muffet knows that once, he was not half a bad person, despite what one might believe; she was once not an entirely bad person either, despite her arguments that she has remained unchanged all these times.

It wasn’t their fault that they were like this, was it?

“Darling,” He beckons for her, so she lowers herself from her web, dropping herself from the sticky silk with ease and onto his lap. She hardly weighs a thing to a monster made of metal, two hands settling themselves on his shoulders, two others coming up to cup his face. “Have you heard the news?”

“Dearie.” She returns, a brief kiss; her eyes blink at him. “You are the news~” Which is, technically speaking, true. MTT News was the Underground’s news source. Perhaps not like what it once was, but still news.

The robot gives her a look that seems unimpressed, but she knows he’ll let her get away with it ( almost anyone else would’ve been too scared to even consider talking back, she enjoys such privilege with glee ). “You’ve been holding out on me. There was an incident on the edges of Hotland?”

Ah, that. Well, what can she say? She knows Mettaton likes keeping away from the lab. She shrugs, fangs peeking out as she grins. “Someone simply needed a dunk in the river, ahuhu~~” A forceful dip, perhaps, but what did the details matter. If he can read between the lines and figure out what exactly that all means, it does not show; of course, he is an actor, she would not be surprised if he knows exactly and simply opts to not speak of it.

“Well—” He starts, a pause, she’s caught him off guard. Hadn’t predicted her answer. A mechanical clearing of his throat, before he speaks again. “Well, that still calls for a punishment... or perhaps a reward?”

There’s a gleam in her eyes, a grin and a giggle before she’s pulling back. “Already a step ahead of you~ I brought them back for you speak to, fufufu~”

“Ah, now you’re speaking my language, gorgeous.”

( A butterfly and a spider trapped in a web—

—who is really the victim here? )

iii.

Humans aren’t so bad, she decides. She still lacks enough to bring the spiders back home, and they were still stuck in the Underground, but they weren’t dead. It’s not all bad. They made an effort to help her, which is more than she can say for some monsters.

The shy, nerdy one passes through, sometimes, to check up on her; and she will flash her fangs at the scientist and giggle as she scampers off. Other days Muffet will leave her web, willingly, to see the spiders now that the Ruins aren’t closed off.

One time, she leaves to go through to Snowdin, try and figure out if there is a good way to bring the spiders home. Even if she’s cold, at least the Royal Guard is there to help her.

( Which roughly translates to, at least the Canine Unit was there to try and play with her. And then went to fetch Papyrus when they realized she wasn’t interested in them, who in turn fetched Undyne, because Undyne was likely to be more helpful at assisting ).

Muffet likes Undyne ( only kind of like that ) because she’s to the point. She doesn’t bother with trying to skirt around things— time is money, as the saying goes, and while Muffet is not really that greedy with her money, she’d much rather not freeze to death out in Snowdin. Unfortunately, the former captain has very little advice to offer, since the main issue is the fact that the forest is big and the spiders would probably die before they even reached town. The cold is not a foe that can be fought, unfortunately; she laughs a little when the warrior offers to beat up the cold nonetheless. On a more serious note, Undyne also offers to check in with Alphys for her opinion, which is favor she wouldn’t have been willing to ask for on her own, so she’s somewhat thankful for that.

She hasn’t visited with Napstablook in a while, so she does that— she nabbed some ghost pastries in advance for this particular occasion. Just because she only sold spider goods didn’t mean she was incapable of baking other things! For a very select audience, perhaps, but she liked to think of it less as business and more like the kind of favor one did for their friend. They were supportive of her cause and if she baked a few goods for them every now and then in return, what of it? They needed something good, they were always so blue— not that she can blame them for that, but that’s besides the point.

She realizes a little too late that her sudden visit has intruded on something— well, probably something, she’s not entirely sure if they are lying on the floor in accordance to ‘tradition’, or for some other reason. Muffet spares a brief glance to their other visitor, a figure she can recognize quite well, but opts to ignore for the time being.

“oh... i wasn’t... expecting to see you... muffet...” They greet her; the sort of dejected manner they hold themselves with has always made her frown ( she’s glad to see she’s not the only one, if the motion in her peripherals is to be any indication ).

“Why not? You’re my best customer~” Teasing, she’s only teasing as the basket is offered to them. “I had some... business to attend to in Snowdin~ I thought I would come by to keep you company afterwards.”

“oh, right... the spiders are still in the ruins... aren’t they? i’m sorry... i’d help if i could... but the snail business is... still pretty bad.”

Muffet tuts at him, as if she’d blame him. They were both suffering from not being to make money off their fellow monsters, Napstablook was just better natured about it. She was not, though. “Ah, speaking of that, dearie~ I’ve got quite the story about that!” She ignores the metallic sound of their third party getting up, ignores what she assumes to be a glare. “You remember the human who came through, yes? Quite a darling~~ Even helped donate to our bake sale a little~ Not that I knew that when I was fighting them. And—”

“Darling.” Mettaton drawls, and she knows she’s annoyed him. Good! She almost killed an innocent human on his behalf! He’s cunning, Muffet will give him that, but she does not enjoy being deceived like that. He should be at least half as annoyed as she is. “Your gossip is going to put me to sleep. Please change the topic before you bore me any more than you already have.”

“i... don’t really mind...” Napstablook chimes in, though they seem to go ignored.

“You’re no fun. Fine~” She pouts, four arms crossed; she’ll drop the topic for now. Besides, she doesn’t really need to give Napstablook something else to be sad about. “Would you like to hear about the gossip in Snowdin instead then?”

Later, when she leaves Blook Acres, she knows she is not alone, because she can hear the plodding of heeled boots, so she stops and waits for him to catch up— it doesn’t really make much of a difference since they both need to take Hotland’s elevator to get back to their respective homes, but there was no need for her to make him chase after her ( well, maybe it’d be fun to have someone chase after her, but she digresses. It’s a time waster right now ).

“I feel as though I might... owe you an apology.” He starts, and Muffet wants to snort a little— an apology would be far from compensation, but it might be a step in the right direction. If she’s feeling generous. “I was not aware that things were so dire for you. Allow me to make up for it.”

She’s still upset that Mettaton so easily played her for a fool— holding a grudge, however, feels foolish for now ( or maybe she’s being fooled again, only the angel knows ). “And what do you get out of it?”

“Well, I’d never! But, you know, if you’re offering— the spiders being saved from the Ruins would be quite a broadcast worthy moment.”

She groans because, of course, she should have expected there’d be a catch, and of course, it’s a ridiculous catch ( really, she was expecting something entirely different )— only fitting for someone with as much grandeur as him. It’s such a small price for her, though, so she will begrudgingly agree.

It’s better. Things are not the best— this is far from their best ending.

But it’s better, she can’t ask for much else.

iv.

People come. People leave. That is the way this world works, she knows. People come and go, and she has no intentions of trying to make them stay. Such is futile.

Muffet laughs and giggles at monsters who pass through her domain, at the ones that try and convince her to leave her home. What an opportune moment, is what she thinks, and so she stays, like always.

Silly scientists.

( While she regrets not tying Alphys up and playing with her a bit, she’s never seen the lizard so determined— frantic and anxious, yes, that is a given as far as she can tell, but determined is not. So she lets her go on her way, knows that something is coming her way and prepares ).

She is no hero— Muffet would laugh in your face at even the mere suggestion of such— she is no hero, she is not trying to defeat that thing for the sake of others.

No, such a greedy human deserves no pity, no break. One who may have supported her cause all the same, but that is besides the point. A being who has killed so many must have quiet some money— sure, it’s a shame she must go about funding her cause this way, but she thinks the monsters would have preferred it go to her than their killer. Surely, this time, she can succeed in bringing the spiders home. She can be happy knowing that, for a fact.

So she cackles when the thing finally decides to show up, pass through her nest— a foolish move, she thinks. Why would you go through her home? No one is more familiar with the webbed area like she is, it is so easy to catch the tiny little thing like the pest it is. It hardly even seems human when it stares her down like that, face devoid of any emotion. Unfeeling, unlike any monster. Muffet grins and bares her fangs at it and—

She is cocky, has hardly had the time to utter even a sentence; doesn’t notice the weapon until it has collided with her painfully.

v.

This isn’t right.

Her spiders scuttle around her feet, whispers of go home, go home, go home.

Muffet does not bake, she does not tease to munch on people— in this small town, too idle for anyone’s wellbeing, she does not do anything. A monster like her has no place here.

She might as well be a ghost.

( Go home, go home, go back underground.

If only things were that easy ).

Something happens out there, she knows— an echo of laughter falls from her lips.

She does not go out.

( Go back, go back.

She waits until they can go back ).

vi.

It is probably a good thing that their leader is a lively one, or else she thinks that monster’s spirits would’ve been much lower than they currently were. It was not as simple as turning on the television to watch Mettaton’s shows to make them smile anymore. A shame, truly, because while Muffet did not care for those kind of flashy things, had no care for stars of that caliber, she can recognize something has been lost from the Underground.

( A shame, but it really makes no difference to her in the end. Her spiders have been spared, so that’s all that matters to her. The safety of her spiders.

It’s easier to act like that’s all that matters, that things are better for her that way, at least ).

Their new ruler is much more brutal. Blunt. Blood-thirsty— and sure, Undyne’s always been kind of like that, probably. It was an admirable trait, for the head of the Royal Guard; it is a good trait for a ruler too, when supported by the people that she rules over.

Muffet tuts at her and wonders if she will grow to regret that, however, when her grief finally fades. She can mourn those who were lost, but she cannot do so forever. People will move past their grief, eventually... or die when their hope finally gives out.

( She leaves Hotland, passes the lab with its broken doors, forced open when it’d been quiet for too long. It is a sorry echo of what it had once been there. Of who had once been there.

It doesn’t matter, she reaffirms ).

One of her spiders accompanies her, riding on her shoulder; the others stay safe at home with her dear pet. She grabs onto her dress with two of her arms, lifts it up as she wades through the waters of Waterfall. She does not really care for the wet, rocky terrain of Waterfall, but she can afford to make sacrifices. It’s not like any of them have better things to be doing.

( Despite what one may think, she is not entirely all selfish. That said, she is not selfless either, she has her reasons for doing what she does. Her own trivial sort of gain ).

She leaves ghost pastries with Napstablook and checks up on the snails ( she does not care for that wet, slimy thing, but they are friends of the spiders, kind of, and they are tasty, so it’s only with brief prodding before she goes on her way ). Napstablook tells her what she needs to know in exchange for the treats, though she knows they would have told her regardless, just as she would’ve given them to them regardless.

She’s not at her former home, but the piano echoes in the corridors long before she is even close to reaching her. An echoing reminder of how much more empty Waterfall ( the Underground in general, really ) is these days, there is no Shyren to sing along with the occasional plink of an off key note. Once, Muffet would have come to Waterfall to see Napstablook and would have expected to hear the warrior training. Loud clanging of pots and voices yelling while they cooked. The piano playing might have been loud and passionate, fierce and angry at a situation like this, but it is much more dull and sullen now, an almost fragile sound. She finds the Empress draped over the piano, quietly— in a world of her own, probably. She wonders if she has cried today too.

( Once, Muffet thinks she might have not minded the Underground being so empty. She is not sure how to feel anymore ).

Two arms reach up to smooth her hair back into being ‘presentable’— she is pretty sure Undyne has never cared for her appearance, but a leader should look the part— two others gently pull her back in a gesture that could be considered a hug. “Your people await you, dearie~” There is a hum of acknowledgment and little more, but that is fine. She’s not here to fix what cannot be mended.

( Once, Muffet feels like this could have been love ).

vii.

Surface spiders are so very interesting, Muffet decides. When the human— Frisk— mentions to her that the surface has quite a variety of spiders, she did not think they meant it as sincerely as they did. They are so similar to the ones at her home, yet vastly different all the same. She wonders at what point spider monsters and human spider-animal-things changed, but that sounds like a biology thing that Alphys could probably answer in a way that would make no sense to her. So she will just wonder and appreciate the similarities between them— they can communicate with each other, so there’s that. Do the differences even matter, knowing that?

The surface world in general, is very interesting. Muffet does not technically need to bake anymore since the spiders are free, but she does need to make a ‘living’ of sorts, and baking is the easiest way of doing that. Humans may be skeptical of food with spiders in it, but her fellow monsters are finally coming around to her pastries, so all is well.

Well, sort of.

As good for business as all the attention is, it brings about some... unwanted guests. That is probably a generous way of describing the current pest.

“Cameras aren’t allowed back here, dearie~ No exceptions. Leave~~” She’s very to the point about it, easily weaving around Mettaton’s boxy build to get to the oven so she can check on what she’s baking— she needs no pests hanging about, nor does she need any additional distractions. There’s a pause where she thinks he’s actually going to put up a fight, but seems to think better of it and dismisses the camera crew with a wave of his hand. Not the outcome she’d expected, but better. Workable.

“I’m not stopping to talk to you, so speak up~” Muffet might have spiders to help her, but there is only so much they can do, which means she doesn’t have the time for a break. It’s probably good that she has the extra arms to pitch in.

“A brand deal would only benefit the both of us, you know. I’ll provide you with some proper advertising. If we combined our efforts, we’d be actual competition against Grillby’s.”

“Grillby’s doesn’t sell sweets~~ Humans, on the other hand... Still, I’m doing fine here. I don’t need your silly brand~” She bares her teeth in a way that she wants to be menacing ( unfortunately, Mettaton is not a tiny and naïve human, so he doesn’t even flinch— he laughs, the audacity! ); he looks put out, though, so she supposes that’s a victory.

Also unfortunately, Mettaton is stubborn, so even though she gets rid of him for the day, he returns no less than three times that week. Never alone, either, so as much as she would like to rid of him, it’s not so easy to do so. Business propositions are put aside for casual conversations, but she doesn’t trust him so easily ( she’s been deceived by him once before, no need to go doing that again ).

She feels uneasy, like— like she’s missing something. Like something should have happened. But nothing happens, and she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. They monsters more than deserve some peace after everything, so she’ll take the peace as a sign of good things to come.

( Even if it cannot last ).

[autobee23]

Hello! I read your rant, i am sorry for butting in. But i think you are not problem here? Like cleary those people are not good friends to you . Friends don't bully and are mean to each other. If it happens (by accident) you can tell them it upset you and they will stop.

I also think that friends would explain to each other about things they like, for example, one of my best friends loves dark souls but i can't play games. So she often tells me about dark souls, explain to me the bosses, game mechanics and stuff. She never bullied me for getting something wrong or off, do you know what i mean?

Of course group chats can be chaotic too and quite draining. I do not handle them well either i get overwhelmed.

Again, i think the problem is then being mean to you and group chats being overwhelming as well. Don't blame yourself over it. Its not your fault, just do what its best for you. It may be hard, but your mental health is important.

Its not your fault ok? You are interesting, you are valid.

Stay safe!

Hello anon!

No it’s not a problem to me, very rarely do I get asks these days so it’s always a nice surprise to see one. Ah yes, that group really was mean spirited, it happen a long while back when Discord wasn’t a big thing as it is now ( wow I’m showing my age here ) and I didn’t really last that long in there because I realized that when the mods were leaving because how toxic it was, so did I. It was a Fire Emblem base group and the fandom is pretty huge, but these type of people were hardcore veterans and really didn’t like the new installments at the time and here was me who first played a “modern” Fire Emblem, so you can see where the trouble is. It wasn’t meant to be and I was a bit sad I had to leave it because it was my first attempt to try and socialize online without my actual friends and it backfired really hard on me, one day when I’m comfortable I might try again, but right now I’m just fine where I am of just posting things that’s on my brain.

I actually do like it when my friends explain the things they like to me, like I have one friend who gets into many things when she’s bored and ask me if I heard it when I say no she explains it to me since that’s just our thing sometimes, we talk about the things we like and engage into it, however in the group chat we are in together, it has about 14 people in there, but only like…8 talk in there ( most of them are my friends their own friends in there and I’m horrible at saying ‘no’ so they kind of taken it as a green light to invite the person and then the said person never speaks again after being in there for a week ), but since the pandemic last year it’s been pretty quiet since they’re in other group chats with others to talk about whatever video games that came out, the hugest thing to happen in there was Genshin Impact and I told them nicely that I couldn’t get into another gacha game plus I really can’t physically play the game, so they respected that and I guess that’s why it’s been quiet because they are really into Genshin Impact, so it’s like ‘sorry you can’t play this game with us, so we’ll just talk about it almost all the time’. I listen to them talk about other things, but sometimes it feels like when I try to talk in there, they mostly don’t respond back ever or change the subject completely. I have brought it up to them many times, but it’s not really working which I don’t like because they’re nice people, really they are! But I guess since I don’t play many of the games they do or have the nostalgia for a long running series, I’m just kind of…Brushed off? Like I use to go into Discord call almost every night in that chat, but these days it’s once in a blue moon.

I also think I get frustrated when I can’t do these silly rants, they tend to think it’s like my core personality, when it’s not, sometimes I just wanna rant about bad RNG in the gacha games I play and I’ll feel better, but I don’t do it often because again they just change the subject or brush me off, this happen last year but a character that many of us wanted and almost everyone in my chat got this character on the first day of the banner, but I didn’t at the time and I just ranted a little about how RNG was a big butt, but one of my friends took it a little personally about how she felt bad that I didn’t get the character when she did pretty early so two of my friends basically told me that was kind of uncalled for that I did that—to ruin someone else’s fun I guess is the word? And it hurt a lot because I never intended to do that, so it was kind of an eye opener to me and since then it hasn’t felt the same for me since. We also talk about role playing, but like with video games they have other chats that they talk about their OCs or characters they RP as, and so whenever I wanna talk about my characters I stopped myself because nothing will come out of it. It’s the lack of interaction and I hate to say it, but bias towards my friend who I mention early, because ( I hate comparing ) if I’m feeling down in the dumps whenever I bring it up, it’s not much of a big deal, but if my friend is? It gets pretty active, so it just makes me self doubt a lot if they really see me as a friend or just someone I happen to be a friend if that makes sense.

Sorry for going off course , but yeah I get what you mean because I don’t understand many game mechanic things myself. I’m a millennial that didn’t grow up with video games till I was 11 years old, and even then I have small handful of game series I play.

Yeah in high school their was this group I was in and it had over 10 people in it and I just hated it so much that I didn’t hang out with them much or when I do, I just stay quiet and hope lunch ends lmao.

Thanks anon, I know it’s not me, but I can’t help myself but wonder if I’m just not an interesting person—I’ve had this doubt for as long as I can remember. Goodness I’m sorry for the long post, I hope I didn’t bore you with my self pity…I might talk with some close friends of mine on the next step since I’m obviously not happy in this group chat, that I forgot to mention whoops, that I made 4 years ago…It’s lost it’s spunk for a while now, but thank you again for being nice to me! I very rarely rant, so again thank you.

[tiny-smallest]

choices

Rating: T Characters: Bendy, Alice, mention of various characters Warnings: there’s some light body horror with Alice’s ‘halo’ and the reference of lots of abuse and also murder Description: Bendy decides to invite Alice over for a talk. Predictably, it doesn't go well.

Also on AO3!

So I’ve fallen in love with @the-vampire-inside-me‘s Inkborne AU. I’m not very sure what a lot of the backstory is in it yet-- for example, whether or not Joey was abusive, whether or not he made Boris, Bendy, or Alice, or how quickly the Ink made the place decay, or... a timeline in general. But my brain sure wanted to find out, and it had the idea that this Bendy and Alice have a very strained relationship, and so this thing happened that assumes a looooooot of things about... everything I just mentioned. And explores why that relationship is strained. Trigger warning for talk about torture because boy howdy. Joey was. Yeah, he was a special kind of dick.

So anyway, have this drabble, otherwise titled “I write angst to deeply unfitting music.”

He sat under the tree high up on the manor grounds, staring out over the decaying city. Seemed like just a short time ago that the Ink took over. But his view of the passage of time had always been weird. Maybe it had something to do with being a demon. Yeah, that was probably it, right?

Man, it was a good thing Joey’s ancestor had decided that a regular plot of land wouldn’t do; he had to build the manor on an area built up on top of a cliff overlooking the town like a show-offy jackass. Whatever mess was going on below wouldn’t actually reach here, if ever, and thank god.

Now if only his grandstanding ancestor had built the manor on the taller mesa instead of the smaller one. So much would have been avoided if escape had been possible from this miserable town, but the sheer cliff of the taller mesa back beyond the manor grounds meant that there was no other way out. Why was this entire stupid town in what was basically a fucking bowl of land?

Ugh, this was not the mood he wanted to be in for this meeting. It was already going to suck enough without moping and fuming. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out for a few minutes, but the sound of wings quickly drew them open.

Alice was here.

She landed several feet away from him, the delicate magic, threads of white sprouting from her back into some overly decorative wing design, slowly folding back up into her back from whence it came. She nodded a curt, polite greeting.

Bendy, however, was not much for politeness. “Surprised you came.”

Her mouth puckered into a frown as she lifted the veil covering her face. “You asked. I saw no problem with answering your request.”

“Why? Did they run out of praise for ya?” He didn’t even bother trying to hide the sullenness from his voice. So much for trying to start this off on neutral grounds.

“If you just drew me out here to insult me, I’ll leave.” She was having none of his shit today. When had she ever? Even back when what he’d had to say had been logical and reasonable, she hadn’t been interested in listening to him, oh no. He huffed, standing up and stretching the soreness from his muscles. Yeesh. He needed to stop falling asleep sitting up.

“Well? Why did you want to meet me?”

Yeah, being abrasive was seriously the wrong choice, but he’d made it. Whoops. “… I need yer help.”

“You have a funny way of asking for it.”

“Look, it’s been a rough-” Day? Week? Year? More like lifetime. Yeah, ‘lifetime’ sounded about right, but ‘week’ would be accurate, too. The dead horse he’d hauled back in chunks to the manor was all eaten now. He was back to eating squirrels. “-week.”

Deep breaths, Bendy. Because they worked so well last time. Augh.

“I wanna get outta this shithole. You can’t fly far but you got power; maybe you could help-”

“Absolutely not.”

Despite his preperations to hear that answer, a rock dropped into his stomach anyway. “Why the fuck not!? You’re strong! I’m strong!” Inexperienced despite his best attempts at not sucking, but strong! That counted for something, right? “The two of us together could ditch this place so fast our heads would spin! I don’ know what the world is like out there but god Alice, it’s gotta be better’n here!” Anywhere would be. Anywhere.

Her face softened. Shit, he must look more pathetic than he’d meant to look. “… I’d help. I really would. But it’s dangerous, significantly so. And I can’t risk my life when there are others depending on that life, much less actually leave the city with you.”

His face twisted into a scowl. This trash again? “They don’ own you, Al. You don’ owe them jack.”

“I can protect them. If I can do it, I should, and I can, so I choose to.” Her words, calm and deliberate, held a match to a boiling pit of gas in his belly.

“I don’ understand! Why are ya doing this!?” he exploded, gesturing furiously to the hellscape below, covered in ink and blood and dead things and nightmares, and in the center, the tower of a chapel, the only place untainted by the evil of the Ink… but very much tainted with the evil called humanity. “Why is this so important to ya!? Don’ you realize yer literally playin’ right into Joey’s hands, here!?”

Her eyes widened with something he couldn’t entirely place, but he guessed might be fear. The hand that rose halfway to her mouth didn’t help her case if she wanted to pretend that accusation didn’t freak her out. “What… what do you mean?”

“He did this to ya, Al! He did-” he gestured at the thing that could possibly be considered a halo nailed into Alice’s head “-that! God, Al, he tortured you same as either’a us! And yer gonna just- go along with yer ‘purpose’ after all that!? He made ya to clean up his mess, he fuckin’- nailed a thing into yer head so you could actually be equipped to clean up that mess, cause you ain’t a person, yer a tool to him! You know what he did to me! To Boris! You too! And yet yer jus’- gonna do what he wanted ya to do like a good little girl!? Like a goddamn chess piece!? He ain’t even here anymore! God knows where he fuckin’ slipped off to but there ain’t any ‘father’ to appease, Al!”

Her eyes, glazed during his tirade, cleared, and she didn’t so much fold her arms as she did hug herself, though her eyes remained on his. “Don’t misunderstand my intentions, Bendy. I don’t do what I do out of any love for Joey Drew. Or for his plans. This isn’t a seal of approval on anything he did to any of us, and I’m no puzzle piece of his, whatever he might think of all of this, if he’s even still alive somewhere.” Her eyes narrowed as she let go of herself, back straightening. “I do what I do because I want to. These people need protection, guidance, and healing. The city is overrun, has been for a long time now, and they’re scared. They need me and whether I like how I got these powers or not, I have them. I may as well use them.”

“Why you wanna do what they want any more than what Joey wants!?” The demon waved his hands in the air, as if he could swat away the ridiculousness of this like a fly. Or maybe he was just so full of emotion he needed to move. Probably some combination of the two. “Don’ you know that if they realized yer from the same origin point me and Boris are, they’d turn on ya!? Humans are fricking awful; I’d’ve thought you’d’ve figured that out when they tortured and murdered Boris! Jus’ leave ‘em to rot; they’d’a done the same to us in our shoes! Who cares what their issues are!? Who cares if they all die off!?”

Something inside the angel hardened a touch and she leveled a stare at him. Bendy, undeterred as per usual, put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot. “Just because our father never loved us,” Alice said, eyes like daggers, “doesn’t mean we can’t love the world.”

“Why should I!? It ain’t ever loved me!” The little demon returned her glare, hoping it drilled holes in her stupid head. “I know I ain’t owed the world, but I was owed more than what I got, Al, and you fuckin’ know it.” Tears were smudging her into a black and white blur, but there was no stopping this train now that they were on it. “I didn’ deserve the shit Joey did ta me, I didn’ deserve bein’ locked up in that tiny closet full’a crosses an’ left to puke my guts out, or any of the lashings, or the chains to hold me down durin’ those rituals ta ‘increase my power,’ or whatever bullshit that was, or ta have this plague pinned on me, or any of the rest of the shit I might be forgettin’ that Joey did ta me! And! They murdered Boris! Lemme repeat that again since you didn’ seem ta hear it, but they murdered Boris! He didn’ like fightin’, he never wanted ta hurt a soul and I don’ even think he was capable of it; all he did was leave the manor grounds, and when the same goddamn people you now protect in yer stupid church found out, they hunted him down like- like an animal and tortured him and murdered him! They put his body on fuckin’ display! I can see, jus’ barely but I can, his fuckin’ corpse from a few places in the manor, all cause a bunch of humans decided he didn’ deserve to live and the bullshit magic that brought us to life doesn’t allow bodies to decay or somethin’!”

“It hurt,” she whispered, rubbing at an eye. ���It hurt finding out that he died. And like that. He didn’t deserve it, not ever. But I refuse to condemn an entire town full of people for the actions of some who I can’t even identify. I don’t know who killed him; I wouldn’t shelter them if I did know. I just know I didn’t kill him, and that if I could, I’d bring his murderers to justice. His death isn’t my fault.”

“You abandoned us!” Bendy shrieked, tears streaming openly now, hands in fists. “Boris is dead, Al! He’s fuckin’- he’s dead! He didn’t deserve none’a that! But it happened anyway, and if you’d been there maybe he woulda survived!” With each word, her features grew calmer and calmer, harder and harder to read, and the more they did, the hotter he felt inside, ready to slug her. “You abandoned us and he died!”

“… You might be projecting a little, there,” Alice said, her voice a smooth sort of cool that didn’t sit well in the demon’s stomach. “Maybe if I’d been there, maybe, he would be fine. But you were there. And you knew he was antsy, you knew he was tired of being cooped up in the manor, you knew all of that… but I know you, and I know you wouldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to get out, either. I wasn’t there, but you were, and you didn’t keep a closer eye on him, or reel in your fantasy talk, or any other number of things to preempt the situation. At the end of the day, it’s ultimately the fault of the people who murdered him, but if either of us are to blame at all, Bendy, it’s you.”

The world felt frozen. The sun was still out, but everything was so cold. His stomach felt hollow, and not just because of his squirrel diet.

“I think you better leave,” he rasped.

“I think I should,” came the icy reply. Without another word, she drew her veil up and spread her magic wings, leaving the tiny demon staring at nothing in the wake of the gust of wind her wings created from takeoff.

His legs gave out and he collapsed into sobs hard enough to wrack his whole tiny, thin body.

So basically the idea regarding the background information for this is that Joey made all three of them, was a horrific piece of shit to them, but vanished one day after the Ink outbreak. Bendy’s mention of ‘father’ was a reference to an old conversation in once Joey mused aloud that technically speaking, as he made them, he could be considered their father. Running off the idea that crosses don’t kill Bendy in this, but direct contact will burn and being surrounded by them will leave him with severe headaches and stomachaches. They make him literally sick. Idea about the room of crosses being a punishment inflicted whenever Bendy misbehaved comes from this comic.

Bendy, unable to escape the city alone, continued his residence in the very same Drew Manor that he’s lived in his whole life and has wanted nothing more than to escape from, only because it’s the safest place in town due to its location. Headcanon is that he needs to eat but can eat stuff humans wouldn’t be able to, so he lives off of whatever he can catch in the manor grounds and, occasionally, the dead horses of travelers to the town that he takes apart and brings back to the manor.

Being trapped in the same place of years and years of abuse because it’s ironically become the only safe place in a living hell is a kind of hell in it of itself; starving on top of that makes it suck even more.

Alice, meanwhile, escaped the manor at an odd period of time where the Ink was starting to make its way into town but hadn’t become a full blown plague yet. Though she escaped Joey, her heartstrings were tugged by the frightened people and she took up residence in the chapel, which became a safe haven when the real outbreak hit. She became a leader to the remains of the town’s population, keeping the Ink at bay with her powers and healing those who needed it. Boris died shortly after Alice left and I think it’s pretty clear how and why.

[8bittheatrics]

Oh boy more FF9 AU, featuring post-end scenes where everyone should be happy but whoops, these kids have issues and are also still teenagers or in their *very* early twenties and have not had time to adjust to anything

AKA Where in the World is Sorey Fabool Alexandros the First, AKA Let Mikleo Say Fuck. Actually the latter has been established as a good summary of the entire AU. Plus all these post-end scenes I’ve been playing with for months are why it’s taking forever to get a real chapter out. I just felt like sharing this one because I’m having feelings about the boys again. You know, like every day.

Sorey's sitting by the eidolon wall when a dagger suddenly sinks into the ground at his side, dangerously close to his hand.

"What the fuck, Sorey!?"

He's in so much trouble.

"SIR TRIBAL, THAT IS NO WAY TO GREET ROYALTY."

"...Phoenix? What? ...Sorey. Answers. Now."

"I feel like if I answer incorrectly I'm gonna get a dagger to the throat."

"That might not be entirely wrong."

"HIS HIGHNESS HAS BEEN FEELING CLAUSTROPHOBIC AT THE CASTLE LATELY. ALSO IT MAY BE MY FAULT."

Mikleo runs his hands through his hair, burying his face in them and letting out a long, rough sigh that turns into a groan halfway through.

"You told no one you were leaving."

"You weren't around to tell."

"You didn't tell Alisha you were leaving."

"Well..."

"What the fuck, Sorey."

"It's not like she told me when she was leaving back when we all met."

"I know you're not this petty, Sorey. Explain."

"..."

Phoenix climbs up Sorey and stands on his shoulder, the tiniest barrier between him and Mikleo.

"Perhaps, Sir Tribal, it would be better to plan to stay tonight. Go visit the other normin. Let his highness be for now."

With another sigh, Mikleo shrugs, arms hanging limply in the air.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll...go fish with Difens and Bienfu or something."

***

"How long has Sorey been here, Bienfu?"

"Two days! He showed up right after Phoenix decided to finally show his fancy godly mug around here again. 'I'm an eidolon,' he says. Psh. We all knew him as a normin first, so he's on the same level as the rest of us."

"Didn't ask for any of that information, but thanks."

"Anytime!"

"Also, don't try to put oglops in the stew this time."

"Oh, come on! Oglops taste great when seasoned right!"

"No oglops."

***

Twilight sets in, the setting sun giving a ghostly illumination to the incense smoke rising from the low pedestal encircled by the wall. It's only proper to pay respect while he's here, Sorey figures, and there's something comforting in the way it curls into the sky. Phoenix dozes quietly in his hood, just like before. It's odd, him being physically present again, but not at all unwelcome. Sorey would be lying if he said he wouldn't have jumped on the opportunity to leave the castle regardless. Phoenix's vanished presence was just the perfect excuse for it. A few echoed words in his head from the eidolon about coming home, and suddenly it felt like there was a void in him, not quite yet all too similar to when he lost all his eidolons.

There wasn't time to explain. To go about every duty and policy so everything could be covered while he was away. Part of him, knowingly far less logical but nonetheless loud, feels like it would've been deemed unimportant, anyway. Something that could wait for another patrol or frivolous request from well-off people who don't need it to be taken care of first. He's just...started to feel trapped again, despite the improvements. It's hard to accept. At least here, he feels free.

A hand drops onto his shoulder and he starts, turning to see Mikleo--much calmer now--giving him a cocked smile.

"Dinner's ready. You hungry?"

Sorey nods, and Mikleo bends to grasp his hand and pull him up and away from the wall.

Even after a couple years to adjust to his faded memories, faceless and blurred like a ruined painting, Sorey still sees fire.

***

"So," Mikleo begins, ladling stew inside a bowl and passing it to Sorey, "talk to me."

"Okay." Sorey spoons out some stew, ready to shove it in his mouth when he hesitates, pulls it away slightly, and blows on it. Then he shoves it in.

"Talk to me about why you left."

"...Nnnnnnnah."

"It's just me. You know you can talk to me. I even put the daggers away."

"Yeaaaah, you still threw one at me earlier, sooo..."

"Because you scared the hell out of me!"

"I could've lost a finger!"

"Hey, I knew where I was throwing it. I have good aim."

"Still."

"You're changing the subject."

"Mmm..."

Sorey averts his eyes, opting to eat quietly. Mikleo doesn't press, and dinner is filled with the sounds of skittering, chattering normin.

His bowl is soon empty and the normin have picked the pot clean, so Sorey opts to find something very interesting to stare at on the weathered table in lieu of talking to anyone.

"Hey."

He looks up as Mikleo moves around the table to grab his bowl.

"I love you."

Mikleo pats his shoulder softly, and Sorey watches as he moves to the kitchen.

"I love you, too," Sorey calls out. Phoenix maneuvers out of Sorey's hood and leaps onto the table with a flourish. Sorey smiles and pokes at one of Phoenix's extended paws, chuckling as Phoenix swats his finger away.

"I missed having you around."

"I never left you, highness."

"Yeah, I know. But being able to see you without summoning you is nice."

"Admittedly, I do prefer my physical form. Now, shall we help with the dishes? Sir Tribal did come all this way for you, after all."

Sorey sighs.

"Yeah. I guess I should."

He briefly considers trying to slip by and hide in the storage room, but the normin would probably rat him out.

He should be happy. He's supposed to be. Everything went back to normal, then got even better than normal when Mikleo and Rose returned, and he should, by all means, be happy. He's just...not. But he should be happy, and the feeling that he's being incredibly ungrateful is overwhelming.

"So."

Sorey tenses.

"Did Bienfu make you eat any oglops? He tried to put some in the stew, too, but I said no. And might have threatened to cook his hat."

Sorey relaxes somewhat with a short chuckle.

"Nah, no oglops. He went to go catch some once, but Grimoirh glared at him until he stopped. We just grilled up some fish the last couple nights."

"That's good. I don't think I'd be able to kiss you anymore if you ate an oglop."

"Isn't that a little extreme?"

"Oglops are nothing to joke about."

Much to Sorey's dismay, Mikleo grabs at the end of his cloak to dry his hands, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Sorey yanks it out of his hands with a pout.

"Not a towel."

"I'll be sure to use your shirt next time, then."

"Use your own!"

Mikleo snickers before grabbing Sorey's hand, pulling him down to the small dock overlooking the river. He sits, tossing a few stray pebbles into the waterfall as he waits for Sorey to get comfortable beside him. A small contest develops wordlessly as they try to see who can toss a pebble to the top of the waterfall. Until, of course, one strays from its arc and hits Bienfu. There's no more pebble throwing after that.

Craning his neck to look at the stars, Mikleo sighs.

"Alright. I listened to Phoenix and left you alone for a bit. Time for you to talk to me. Why did I just spend days in a panic trying to locate you across the globe?"

"The daggers are still put away, right?"

"Yep."

Sorey peers around, suspicious, until Mikleo knocks him lightly on top of his head.

"They're on the bookshelf."

"If you say so..."

"I know so. I put them there. Now why'd you run off?"

"It really did mostly have to do with Phoenix."

"Mostly?"

"I'd heard his voice a few days ago, and then suddenly he was gone. It was...kinda like when my eidolons got extracted, but it was just him specifically. Like there was a void. He said he was coming home, so I had to come check. Sure enough, he was here, back as a normin."

Hands still linked, Mikleo threads their fingers together, brows furrowed in concern.

"Okay, I get that, but why wouldn't you tell someone? Alisha would've understood, especially if it felt like that. And what did you mean by 'mostly'?"

"I mean, it was my reason for going, but..."

"But...?"

Sorey bites his lip, and Mikleo immediately brings his other hand up, thumb pushing down softly beneath Sorey's lip to ease it out of his teeth.

"Come on, Sorey. This is what I'm here for."

"You're here for lots of reasons."

"And one of them is helping you stop bottling things in. Talk to me already."

"It's stupid."

"It's not the first time you've told me that and it certainly won't be the last."

"But if it actually is stupid and you think differently of me after?"

"That's not gonna happen. Besides, I've witnessed you doing plenty of stupid things already and I'm still here. I don't think anything can top pitching us backward off a cliff into the ocean to escape a horde of angry land birds, anyway."

"Hey, I had a couple contingency plans ready."

"Sure. Now stop changing the subject and tell me your stupid thing."

Sorey's eyes dart around for a subject to change it to, but it seems all the normin have scattered. Traitors.

"You didn't bring me over here to push me into the river, did you?"

"I might if you keep this up. Do you actually believe me when I tell you I love you or am I doing something really wrong here?"

Sorey frantically waves a placating hand. "No, no! It's just! I'm. Just." He sighs. "It's...so stupid."

"You keep saying that, but I can't tell you if you're right or not until I know what 'it' is."

"I know, just. Lemme think."

Maybe he could just pitch himself down the waterfall here. That's one way to get out of this conversation. But no, that's the real stupid thing here. Leviathan wouldn't be happy having to fish him out with a wave, and Mikleo would probably try to follow.

"You look like you're thinking about running. And that's why I'm still holding your hand."

Damn Mikleo for being smart.

"Don't run. I don't want you to feel like you have to run. I'm not here to judge. Or to kill you. Alisha might; she did say she was going to. I won't, though."

"That's...not very reassuring."

"It's what I've got. Come on now. Ramble at me. Deep breath and go."

Sorey takes a deep breath and goes.

"Everything's back to normal at home and that should be great, you and Rose are home and the town is finally back in order and Alisha is doing amazing and I've got more than I could have imagined and everything is better but I still feel like I'm trapped there in the castle like now I'm tied to my royal duties and things outside Alexandria just don't matter anymore which is why I thought everyone would brush off Phoenix being gone as something that could be taken care of after the next patrol or royal court approval or whatever mundane thing the nobles want reviewed that day and that bothers me but I know it's irrational and I know I should be happy with everything but I'm not and I feel awful for feeling that way. I'm. I'm not happy, Mikleo. I'm not. I'm awful for it, but I'm just not."

Mikleo stares, and Sorey once again considers the pros and cons of tossing himself off the dock. But the grip on his hand tightens, and Mikleo stands and pulls him up and away (unfortunately) from the dock. Silent, he leads Sorey up the stairs and out of the small cottage.

"What," Sorey starts, hesitant. "What are you doing?"

"Kidnapping you. Right now. The Red Rose is closer, but we can take your ship if it's less obvious. Alisha just sent me to get you, she didn't give me a time limit."

Sorey's eyes widen.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere."

Phoenix salutes from his perch on the broken fountain as they pass, and Sorey smiles.

[sunbrights]

dvd commentary: viewfinder

(For anon, because I also have a special place in my heart for "viewfinder", and I wanted to talk about it more.

This isn't going to go on AO3, for a few reasons that I'll spare you guys from getting into, but I know that Tumblr isn't very kind to long text posts. If this is a pain to read let me know and I'll try to find another alternative!

I hope you guys enjoy!)

I originally wanted to write "viewfinder" as the first of a series of quickfics exploring friendships that have a lot of potential, in my opinion, but don't get a lot of screentime for whatever reason. I really enjoy both Peko and Mahiru as characters, though, and the longer I went the more I wanted to do a deeper dive, which is how it came to be what is now.

(I still want to do something similar to what I was originally planning, though I don't think they'll be quickfics anymore; probably longer oneshots like this one. I do have another fic planned in the same vein that's intended to be a sort of companion to "viewfinder," though that might be a while out.)

Essentially, I was interested first by the fact that Peko mentions Mahiru a few times in her FTEs, which leaves open the possibility for them to be friends even if it's never looked at explicitly in the main game. There are a lot of peppered references to both Peko's and Mahiru's FTEs in here as a result of that (which may or may not have already been obvious). Second, I was interested in the impact on Peko of having to kill her, outside of the consequences for herself and Fuyuhiko in the context of the killing game, especially if the two of them had been friends beforehand. Striking a balance between those two concepts, tonally, was really tough, but in the end I decided I didn't want to leave either one of them out.

Nitty gritty commentary under the cut!

** **

Koizumi has taken at least four photographs of her since they arrived on the island. One was a group photo, taken the first day; the other three were taken covertly, when she thought Peko wasn’t aware. (Peko cannot afford not to be aware.)

I really agonized over how many photos Mahiru would reasonably have taken at this point. I think this number (and the one later, when Mahiru shows Peko all of them) changed at least five or six times. Why?? I have no idea. Weird hang ups in editing hell.

She does the same with the others, with similar frequency; most of them rarely notice, if ever. Peko allows it because she sees no reason not to, but she does consider the possibility of Koizumi having goals beyond a few candid photographs.

(She brings this up to the young master, and he rolls his eyes.

“Koizumi’s a fucking goody-goody,” he says, feet kicked up on the edge of his desk. “She’s not worth worrying about. If it bugs you, tell her to knock it off. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit what she does.”)

The next time Koizumi takes a photo of her, Peko is out splitting coconuts on the beach. It starts out as just her, Mioda, and a handful of others, but once they start shouting about the quality of the coconut juice, it isn’t long before the rest of the class begins to file in.

This section was tough to get right, and a lot of it ended up getting cut; I almost ended up cutting the whole section (I did a couple times, I think), but I'm glad I was eventually able to get it where I wanted it. The coconut special event in particular felt like a good starting place to me because it's the earliest point that we see Peko bonding and socializing with the others, even if she didn't really intend to.

At one point Souda, Hinata, and Mioda hold six coconuts out in a line; Peko slices through all of them in a single swing, and hears the familiar snap of Koizumi’s shutter behind her.

The others all whoop as the tops of the coconuts hit the sand. Koizumi rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling even as she steps back. When they start handing out the remaining shells, Peko brings one over to her.

“I was wondering,” she says, after Koizumi has taken the first sip of her juice, “would it be all right for me to see that photo?”

“The one I just took of you? Sure, if you want.” Koizumi pulls on the strap of her camera to swing it back up towards her. It looks unwieldy to hold in one hand, but she does it without much effort at all. “Don’t worry, you look really cool in it.”

The digital display of the camera is grainy and cluttered with functional symbols, but the most important parts of the image are clear. Peko discovers that she isn’t the subject of the photo, as she’d assumed— instead, she is the dynamic foreground to the actual subjects: Souda, Hinata, and Mioda, their hands held out and their faces lit up in varying degrees of awe, fear, and delight. The line of Peko’s shoulders and the draw of her blade act as a frame for the smiles of her classmates.

(Peko can also tell that her form is off: she’s holding her right shoulder too high, and it caused the cut in the final coconut to be uneven. It’s hardly Koizumi’s fault, but having such laziness immortalized will bother her for days.)

“What do you think?”

“It’s... surprising.”

“‘Surprising’?” Koizumi draws the word out. It’s the wrong one, going by the way her brows pinch together. She twists the camera back towards herself to squint at the display. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peko struggles to elaborate. It’s difficult to find the words to describe something when she isn’t certain of what it is in the first place. “It could have simply captured the trick they asked me to perform,” she decides on, “but instead it captures the feelings of everyone involved.” She hesitates, then clarifies: “I like it.”

Peko's much better than Hajime at giving the kind of feedback Mahiru likes to hear. She's a thoughtful character in general, but I also think she'd be familiar with what helpful feedback sounds like, sort of a counterpoint to her own criticism of herself above.

Koizumi looks up at her, eyebrows lifting. “Yeah.” She smiles, and it’s easy and friendly. “Yeah, that’s it exactly, actually. Thank you.”

Mahiru's smiles get mentioned a lot in this story, which is intentional; Peko's hyperawareness of them is meant to play into her own self-consciousness over struggling with smiling herself.

“You’re welcome,” Peko says, even if she doesn’t understand what she has to be thanked for. Koizumi seems pleased regardless, and she leans over to show Peko the other photos she’d taken so far.

There’s no harm in letting her keep taking them, she decides.

*

They have lunch together, sometimes. Both she and Koizumi tend to eat earlier than the others, so the hotel restaurant is often empty; on the days when neither of them are away doing other things, they sit out on the balcony and Koizumi shows her the photos she’d taken that morning.

“You know, I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about,” Koizumi says one day, dimming a photo of Togami and his spread of breakfast from her camera’s display. She pulls a small, squat album out of her camera bag and lays it out on the table between them. “Here. These are all the pictures I’ve taken of you so far.”

By Peko’s tally, Koizumi has taken six photos of her: the four she’d already been aware of, the one of her slicing the coconuts, and an additional group photo since.

In this album, there are eight.

I feel like a talent like Mahiru's has to be multifaceted; she's creatively and technically talented, obviously, but she also has to be adept enough to physically take photographs in a way that captures moments without imparting an observer effect.

That, and I think it creates a point of commonality between Peko's talent and Mahiru's (Peko being constantly aware of herself and her surroundings vs Mahiru separating herself from her surroundings in order to document them) that helps make them peers, in a backwards sort of way.

“I feel like I must be getting something wrong,” Koizumi says. She leans her chin on one hand, and the puff of her sigh scatters her bangs. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get the right shot of you.”

Peko touches the edge of a photo of herself leaning on the hotel restaurant’s railing. She tries to remember when it possibly could have been taken. “I don’t understand.”

“Well… Okay, look at this one.” Koizumi taps her nail against one of the group shots on the page: all eight girls standing together, smudged with chocolate and flour. “You had fun that day, right? At least, I thought you did.”

“Yes,” Peko answers. She studies the photo, trying to understand the flaw. The form is excellent and the colors are bright; it’s everything one would expect from Koizumi’s talent. “I… enjoy baking, sometimes. It was a welcome distraction.”

I like the idea of Peko enjoying cooking, especially baking, in spite of her not liking sweets. (The logic being that it's something fun she can do, and the results can be shared with people she cares about to make them happy, too.) Y'all probably can probably see that cropping up in a few stories of mine.

“But you’re the only one not smiling in the picture.” Koizumi flips the pages of her album back and forth. “See? You’re not smiling in any of them. This one kind of comes close,” she touches an image of Peko sitting together with Tanaka and Mioda while the Four Dark Devas of Destruction explore a sand castle, “but I’m not sure it counts. You look happy, but you’re not really smiling.”

This is the first reference to a FTE, specifically Peko's third one:

PEKO: Mahiru told me that... I'm the only one who doesn't smile for her pictures.

Oh. It’s about that. Peko closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It wasn’t my intention to ruin your photos.” If Koizumi’s goal is to capture moments of positivity in their circumstances, it makes sense that Peko wouldn’t fit into that vision. “If you’d rather I avoid being in them from now on, I understand.”

“What?” Peko feels Koizumi’s hand clasp around her wrist. When she opens her eyes, Koizumi has her other hand splayed out over the open page of the album. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all, Peko-chan. I just thought... maybe there are other times when you’re having more fun, you know? Maybe I should take pictures of you then instead.”

I think ultimately Mahiru's photos celebrate mundane joy in her friends' lives; I don't think she'd want them to be a source of anxiety for anyone, especially not a friend.

Even through Koizumi’s fingers, Peko can see how the photos of her don’t fit in well with the ones on the opposite page. There is a clear interruption in the theme of the collection. Looking again, she doesn’t know how she didn’t notice it the first time.

“It isn’t that,” she says. “Smiling can be… a challenge, for me. It may be more efficient for you to focus on the others.”

“Oh.” Koizumi’s forehead creases in what Peko assumes is a combination of sympathy and confusion. “Well, that’s okay. It’s not really about the smiles themselves, anyway. It’s more… whether or not you’re happy in the moment.” She smiles then, one that’s small and apologetic, and for a moment Peko can’t fathom it ever being that easy. “So don’t worry about it. Okay?”

Peko says, “I’ll try,” and means it.

She still thinks about it for the rest of the afternoon.

*

Koizumi takes fewer photos in the days after Hanamura’s execution. It’s understandable; there aren’t many causes for any of them to be smiling in that aftermath. She spends most of her mornings and afternoons out away from the others, but when Peko asks to see the photos, she declines. (“I’ve never been proud of my landscapes,” she admits. “It always feels like there’s something missing.”)

Little crossover tidbit: Natsumi preferring to take pictures of nature in "by the claw of dragon" is a reference to my headcanon here that Mahiru doesn't enjoy it much.

The next time she arrives at the hotel restaurant early enough for lunch, she’s the brightest Peko has seen her in days.

“Peko-chan! Look, I have a surprise for you.”

She slides onto the opposite bench and sets her lunch aside, an afterthought. “I was right, I think.” She unzips one of the outside pockets of her camera bag to produce a photo, newly printed. “I just needed to get the right shot of you.”

Having said the above re: Mahiru not wanting her photos to be a source of anxiety for people, I do think that she would keep trying, and that she probably would have been one of the best people (next to Hajime) to help Peko get past her mental blocks.

Peko doesn’t understand. She’d only been practicing with Hinata for a couple days, and his comedic timing leaves much to be desired. “Is that…?”

“It sure is.” Koizumi’s smile is proud and eager. “Here, see for yourself.”

She slides the photo across the table, and Peko draws it toward herself with the tip of her finger, careful not to smudge.

It’s a picture of her from earlier that morning. Her, and the young master.

“What do you know, right? I was so worried he was going to ruin it.” Koizumi sets her chin in both hands, and Peko can see the way her smile flattens out sardonically. “But it turns out even Kuzuryuu can take a nice picture every now and then.”

It is a nice picture. The angle is high, and neither she nor the young master have noticed the camera; Koizumi must have taken it from the restaurant stairs. She vaguely remembers the moment: she’d passed him on her way out of the hotel, and had only paused to say good morning. She remembers him, half turned towards her with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders and his smile relaxed. In Koizumi’s photo, she smiles back.

His singular order from the very first day had been to maintain the illusion that they were only classmates. They look it, in this picture. He’d be satisfied with it, she thinks.

Not sure how obvious this is, but the picture described here is intended to be the one Fuyuhiko mentions during chapter 5, if you talk to him in the hotel restaurant before going to the ruins with Sonia.

FUYUHIKO: It's the first time... I've seen a photo of Peko and me where we look like equals... FUYUHIKO: Tch, Mahiru... When the hell did she even take this photo?

“Sorry,” Koizumi says, after a moment. Her voice is gentler, and when Peko looks up her brows have drawn together, concerned. Oh. She’d misinterpreted Peko’s silence as offense. “I didn’t mean to— just be careful, Peko-chan, okay? I know you’re trying to help him and all, but that guy is bad news. You shouldn’t get involved with him.”

I figure that if anyone would have picked up on the fact that Peko is the one constantly "bumping into" Fuyuhiko and ferrying information back and forth to him, it would be Mahiru.

“He is… abrasive,” Peko allows. (She has rehearsed this answer in her head many times.) Koizumi’s brows disappear behind her bangs. “We shouldn’t let our guard down. But I think with time he might be open to cooperation.”

“Peko-chan.” Koizumi’s voice is still gentle, but has dropped low enough to not quite be called a whisper; it borderlines on conspiratorial. She chooses every word with careful deliberation. “This is the only picture I’ve been able to take of you smiling, even a little bit. Ever. Okay?”

Peko wills herself not to react, even as she feels her face and fingertips go cold. If she has in any way compromised—

“I’m not going to pretend I get it. Because I swear to every god there is, I don’t.” Her smile turns lopsided and embarrassed, and all at once Peko understands the sort of assumption she’s made. Her cold cheeks suddenly flush warm. “Seriously. That guy? Really?”

She has not rehearsed an answer for this.

Something in her expression must balk, because Koizumi holds both hands up, defensive. “No, it’s okay. I’m not going to ask, just—” She bites her lip, and Peko sees the way she rehearses her words in her head. “A guy like that, the kind of world he comes from? He’s not ever going to change. He’s too wrapped up in himself and his image to bother. Maybe he’s not dangerous yet, but he’s definitely not worth your time. Or anybody else’s, for that matter.”

Combine the above with how aggressively Mahiru and Fuyuhiko butt heads right out of the gate, and I ended up with this conversation. Mahiru wants Peko to be happy, but she also doesn't want her getting caught up with someone she sees as unreliable, self-absorbed, and dangerous. The friction that comes from that in Peko and Mahiru's friendship is inevitable, in my opinion, especially since Mahiru doesn't have all the context.

“We are in a dire situation,” Peko hears herself say. “Our only hope of success is through cooperation.”

Koizumi’s expression twists. “No, no. I know. You’re right.” She turns the photo on the table back toward her, and looks at that instead of at Peko. “But you have to admit, he’s not exactly falling over himself to cooperate with us, either.”

The young master wouldn’t disagree. Peko only shakes her head.

“I’m just saying, as a friend? You don’t need to bend over backwards to help someone who obviously doesn’t want it.” Koizumi picks the photo up by the corner, and is careful not to bend it when she puts it back in her bag. She zips the pocket closed with more force than she needs to. “Let him deal with his own problems.”

And a little dramatic irony, for flavor.

She is wrong, in more ways than she’ll ever understand.

*

That morning, the young master knocks on her door first.

Not pictured: me grappling with the timeline of chapter 2 to make any of this work, after I realized just how short it is between Fuyuhiko playing Twilight Syndrome and Mahiru's death. Say what you want about his yakuza talents, my boy can crank out a revenge plot like it's a frickin' office memo.

The photos must have been taken in the heat of the moment, but their composition is still stark and harshly beautiful. The framing of Natsumi-sama’s blood-spattered corpse makes excellent use of the rule of thirds.

Peko says, “Koizumi,” before the young master has had a chance to say anything at all.

When he throws the open envelope across the length of her cottage, the rest of the photos spill and scatter across her floor like fallen leaves.

*

Peko offers to be the one to deliver the message, but the young master insists he do it himself. She watches the mailbox instead, to ensure his message is heard and understood.

By noon, the mailbox is empty.

Koizumi doesn’t respond immediately. It’s understandable; if the young master doesn’t remember the incident, it’s unlikely she does, either. Peko watches for her anyway, and late in the afternoon, Koizumi sits on the deck of her cottage with the largest of her photo albums in her lap.

Peko knows it to be the one with the final prints of her photos, after she’s had time to crop and color balance them. Her face is lined with concentration and stress, less like reminiscing and more like personal critique, but Peko has made enough threats in her lifetime to see the fear around every edge, in the shakiness of Koizumi’s muscles and the tightness of her mouth.

If you've read some of my other stuff, you might have seen that I like to write in very, very close third person. That makes communicating the arcs of characters who aren't the POV character (through the filter of the POV character) a fun challenge for me, and this is a good example of me trying to do that with Mahiru. I wanted to highlight the point after Mahiru has seen the pictures but before she's played Twilight Syndrome, when she must have recognized the pictures as hers but been shocked and afraid by the contents. Peko interprets it a little differently.

The message has both been heard and understood.

That confirmed, there is no reason for Peko to interact with her any further, now that she’s been identified as an enemy of the Kuzuryuu Clan. Clearly, Peko has made a grave error in underestimating her as a potential threat; any further mistakes would only exacerbate the damage.

However, since arriving on the island the young master has had only one, singular request.

This is intended to be the first conflict between Peko's duty as a "tool" and the new friendships she's been making -- she uses her duty as an excuse to keep hanging out with Mahiru, right after she points out to herself that she shouldn't.

Peko holds out her hand to get Koizumi’s attention.

“I wasn’t back in time for lunch today,” she explains. “Could I look at your photos with you now instead?”

Koizumi still smiles, even if it’s thin. “Yeah. Here, come sit with me.”

Ordinarily, Koizumi is happy enough to talk through her photographs while Peko observes, the whens and whats more than the hows and whys. (“My work needs to speak for itself,” Koizumi had said, the one time Peko had asked, “If I have to explain it, then I didn’t do my job right.”) Today they sit in silence while she pages through the album, one by one.

Many of these final prints are ones that Peko has yet to see. Owari and Nidai, bloodied and grinning, grasping each other’s forearms. Saionji with two packets of gummy bears flared out in front of her face like twin fans. Souda with a screwdriver in one hand and Nanami’s Gamegirl in the other, and Nanami sitting beside him, reaching for it with both hands. Hanamura in the hotel kitchen, flipping flapjacks in a pan while Mioda cheers in the background.

You might have noticed by now that I had a lot of fun coming up with different scenarios for Mahiru's photos in this fic. I was always a little sad we didn't get to see more of them!

(There is exactly one picture of Koizumi herself, where she isn’t in a group. The photo isn’t candid, but she doesn’t look prepared, and the framing is sloppy. When Koizumi reaches it in the album, she’s quick to turn the page.)

This is intended to be the picture Hajime takes of her in her final FTE:

MAHIRU: So... I was thinking about taking at least one shot of myself while I'm on this island. MAHIRU: The me... who's here like this...

“I know that it’s not the most groundbreaking subject matter ever,” Koizumi says eventually, “but that’s fine. People don’t need their lives to be groundbreaking, or dramatic, or- or tragic for there to be beauty in them. You know?”

She turns the page, and her fingers land on a photograph of Hinata caught mid-sentence, his mouth open too wide and his eyes halfway through blinking. It makes her smile, a real one that isn’t pained or forced. For that moment, the lines of stress and fear on her face smooth out into nothing.

And again, this is intended to be the photo Mahiru takes of Hajime in her first FTE:

MAHIRU: Well, I guess this is good enough. Yep, that sure is a dumb-looking face.

“Yes,” Peko answers. “I think so.”

*

Koizumi’s allotted time runs out. The young master is not inclined to give her more.

More evidence of me playing fast and loose with said unreal ch 2 timeline.

This whole section actually wasn't in the original draft of this story, and I waffled a lot on whether or not I should include it; I wanted Fuyuhiko's influence to be felt, but I didn't actually want to include him in the story itself too much. In the end I decided I needed it to bridge the arc I wanted for Peko in the story, which I'll get into in a minute.

“I’ll go with you,” Peko tells him, when they’re alone.

“No.” He’s bent over his desk, which is neat and nearly empty now that Koizumi has the photographs. All that’s left are the letters he’s just written, folded and stacked and ready to set a plan in motion. He won’t look at her. “No. Your plans aren’t changing, okay? Go- go do your thing with the girls. I’ll be done before then anyway.”

That is not an option. She can’t agree, so she doesn’t.

“I’m going to talk to her,” he goes on. His voice trembles under the weight of all his anger and anxiety. “And if that bitch has something to answer for, she’ll fucking answer for it. That’s the only thing I can do, right? That’s what Natsumi deserves.”

Peko hears it, the way his resolve doesn’t shore up the way he wants it to. There are fractures in his certainty of what he’s been taught, and every day they get a little wider; his heart is too big and beats too strongly for them not to. He struggles with it, but there is strength in struggle, not shame.

One of the remaining blank sheets of paper crumples under his left hand. He hears the fractures too, but they sound different to him than they do to her.

There is so much weighing him down.

She wants to take it away from him, or at least help him shoulder the burden. But Koizumi’s philosophies, Hinata’s advice and encouragement— all of it fails her in the moment, when it matters the most. She remembers when they were small and cold and lost in the mountains, how his face had pinched with fear and tears, how she’d failed him then, too.

Like I mentioned earlier, I was interested in Peko and Mahiru's FTEs, especially in the larger context of the main plot. If you WERE to finish Peko's FTEs before the, uh, cutoff point, for example, her later ones would necessarily need to fall around/during all the behind-the-scenes fuckery happening in chapter 2. So, with that in mind, here's this from her fourth FTE:

PEKO: Mahiru showed me her photos the other day. They were filled with images of smiling faces. PEKO: I don't know how else to say this, but... they were very nice photos. I learned that smiles give people power. [ ... ] PEKO: If I had been able to smile and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if it was a lie... PEKO: I might've been able to take away his fear.

The other piece of this is the fact that Peko wants to protect Fuyuhiko, but she doesn't do it by stopping him from killing Mahiru, which would protect everyone. In this story, I wanted to open the door to the possibility that Peko may have wanted to try and convince him away from it, through her interactions with Mahiru and Hajime and the others, but struggled with it because of the nature of her "role." In my mind, this is the point where that door shuts again, and she falls back on what she knows.

She says, “Young master—” but he’s already standing.

“Don’t call me that. Just- go, all right? I don’t have a lot of time.” He tucks the letters into the inside pocket of his jacket. “We’ll talk when it’s done.”

"I don't have a lot of time" was an inside joke with myself about how dumb the timeline of ch 2 is. That shit really got to me, y'all.

*

Koizumi is pale that morning. It makes her concealer too dark against her skin, and when she lowers her head shadows still steal into the bags under her eyes. Her hands shake when she waves at Peko from across the pool.

“Morning, Peko-chan.” Koizumi breathes in deeply, for no reason Peko can see except to steady her voice. “You’re still going to the beach with everyone today, right?”

Peko nods.

“That’s good.” Koizumi nods, too. She keeps nodding, and looks down at her hands. “I’m glad. It sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Mahiru is in a pretty dark place at this point, but her priority (like it is with Mikan and Ibuki) is still that her friends are happy and have fun. There's always tomorrow, right?

“You won’t be coming with us?”

Peko knows the answer. She asks the question anyway, because she must. Because as much as she feels for Koizumi’s position, the young master’s safety comes first, and his will comes second. There is no choice to be made.

Again: she wants to protect him, but going against his wishes to do that isn't an option. The rest of this is intended to be Peko turning to fully embrace the "tool" mentality she thinks she's supposed to have after slipping from it.

“No. I’m sorry, I wish I could.” She is hugging her arms close to herself. Her fingers tighten around her elbows until the skin under her nails turns white. “I just... I have something I need to take care of. But you should go have fun, okay?”

“You’ll be missed,” Peko tells her. It isn’t a lie, except by omission, but she still feels like something has been wedged deep beneath her sternum. “We’ll take photos. For your record.”

Peko's not talking about the beach trip. In case anybody wasn't sure.

“I’d like that. Thanks.” Even now, even with all this, Koizumi is still able to smile. For all her practicing, Peko is sure she’s learned nothing at all. “Have you seen Ibuki-chan anywhere?”

*

In the end, Koizumi never sees her approach. It’s a stroke of luck Peko doesn’t deserve, but the outcome would not have changed regardless. She will protect who she must protect. Kill who she must kill. If she can do nothing else, she can do that.

The young master reaches for his weapon, and she is there.

There was originally a transitive verb in the second clause of this sentence (I forget exactly how I phrased it) that didn't get changed to what it is now ("she is there") until the final edit. Ultimately I changed it because I wanted to emphasize Peko's attempt to take agency away from herself, especially in the context of the narrative she pushes in the trial later.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #2.5: Zombie Flesh Eaters

It was always astonishing how small the world really seemed from this high up. NSFW would be landing in Medellin in an hour or so. They had left their home base after only a sparse couple days in Pittsburgh. They could have made a straight shot right from Cusco to Medellin- it would have meant less time airborne and more sightseeing- but they had an important appointment that couldn’t be delayed. So home they’d gone, and in their brief time there they hadn’t simply dealt with what was necessary, they’d spoken at length of things they wanted to see and do while in Colombia. However, at the end of the day, it all cycled back to what they were going there for in the first place. The ascent back up to the top- perhaps less literal than the ascent they’d taken together back in Peru, the grand pinnacle being the city full of the ghosts of a long-passed civilization, but no less strenuous. To prove to smirking, haughty Cross Reboca and his vicious, desperate partner that they weren’t going away, that they would be breathing down their necks as long as they held the Chimeras. Of course, that meant clearing away any obstacles in their path. The obstacle now, strangely enough, was the team that they first thought they would be chasing upon their imminent arrival to Valor Pro. Things had changed rather quickly. Now, with Cuba below them, its buildings in miniature from this altitude, Mike found themselves musing about the peculiar pair, representatives of an even more peculiar group. Giving a glance to their partner, who seemed enthralled by the view of the world from above, Mike looked to their phone, raising an eyebrow at the camera. “To be honest, I don’t really get it. I mean I wanna get it. I want to like you guys. You seem cool, and your mission statement is on point. I mean, after spending the last couple shows fighting against the fuckin’ paragons of self-serving bullshit, a team whose mission statement is to improve the world around them is a goddamn breath of fresh air.” Tucking their hands behind their head, Mike glanced past their partner out the window, shrugging. Their Mets cap was turned to the side, the brim tilted in an almost jaunty manner over their left ear. They and their partner were both clad in jean shorts and sneakers, as well as tank tops to beat the heat wave that’d been gripping Pittsburgh when they left it- Mike’s a plain white ribbed Fruit of the Loom number, John’s a heather grey with deliberately faded text reading ‘Property of Pittsburgh Penguins Hockey Club’, likely a gift from the redhead at his side. “And it ain’t like we don’t got shit in common. For one, we both got screwed worse than the recipient of the world’s biggest gangbang by ReKota- you got screwed out of the Chimeras, and we got screwed out of obtaining them, because actually playing fair and winning by your own goddamn mettle seems to be a foreign fucking concept to them. They don’t care as much as we do. You two. Me and Church. Those belts mean more to people like us than they do to a rich boy and his spoiled bitch. In all of this, Zombie Vice Squad and NSFW agree.” Their lips twitched as if in thought, and then pursed into a thin line. Their eyes narrowed to match. “But then I really start to think about your methods. It sounds nice on paper, yeah? We’re here to make the world a better place. We’re here to bring everyone up to our standards. And this is where you guys stop sounding magnanimous and start sounding fucking authoritarian.” John listened intently. He began to speak and his tone was just audible enough for the camera to pick it up. His fingers touched the window lightly.   “Mike. Kowloon, Siberia, they’re as legitimate as tag teams come. Inaugural champions. Impressive pedigree,” maybe perhaps dismissively, he waived that off, “that won’t matter. It never does. Ours didn’t matter. What mattered is one malicious act and three seconds later and our claim to the throne evaporated. But nowadays, you tune in and it's an alphabet soup of irrelevance. Spending precious time talking about anything but Valor Pro. Our little piece of this sport has been overtaken by complaining, petty vengeance, legal proceedings, and the melodrama of who created who.” His shoulders shrugged, eyes still towards the glass. The camera was angled so by Mike that it caught John’s reflection in the window anyway. “Getting away from what matters. Tag team wrestling.” “That’s what it’s all about. That’s all it should be about. If you have some kind of bigger agenda it should be secondary or you’re never gonna win. Not because you ain’t talented. I mean, Kowloon seems to make a point that he worships the Gods of Swole at the Temple of Iron. Dude, you might be cut like a gemstone but that ain’t gonna make a lick of difference. That conditioned body of yours might look nicer than mine…” Mike looked over their bare arms, their toned musculature going taut as they tighten their fists, but the scars of assorted shapes, lengths, and ages standing out even more against their skin. If they were self conscious about them, they were doing their damnedest not to show it. “...but that just means it’ll make a prettier picture when I lay you out flat. Again, I ain’t saying this outta fuckin’ disrespect. I’m sayin’ it cuz that’s what’s going to happen. Of course, you probably think the same damn thing. You’re a lot like me, Kowloon- a two fisted fighter with a temper on you. Which is real interesting, especially when you think about your partner. Siberia, as cool a customer as my partner. It’s almost like you two are some weird alternate universe version of us.” They smirked a little. “In another circumstance? It’d be cool to get to know you better. You two… probably all four of you… sound like you’ve been through fresh fucking hell. You smell like smoke cuz you’ve walked through fire. We can relate. We saw what you said about us before- you were smart enough to see through Berlin and Brenna’s bullcrap and we like that too. We could almost be friends, or at least allies. Least… till we start falling short of whatever gold standard you’ve set for humanity in fuckin’ general.” “We aren’t those two. Whatever they have outside of all of this clearly did not translate well as a tag team.” A slight curve of his lips appeared in the reflection. A tiny bit of him felt the development was serendipity as Brenna’s biting words had been silenced in such a casual fashion. But most of all, he felt the act was cruel. “And who would doubt the tenacity of the inaugural Chimera Tag Team Champions? In one form or another, the Zombie Clan buzzsawed their way through a myriad of now imploded, temporary, and dearly departed teams to secure that honor. But we aren’t them either.” “You may come kinda close, but the fact remains- there ain’t no one like us but us. Where others falter and fall back, we stand tall. We’ve seen teams come and go- hopefully the ones here’ll have a bit more fuckin’ longevity than the ones from where we left. We call things as we see ‘em, and never mince words or shy away from calling people out where it’s warranted. But Church and me, we would never be so fuckin’ self important, so dismissive of peoples’ fuckin’ free will, that we would go about whooping the tar ouf of people who didn’t live the way we thought they should.” Mike’s jaw set, eyes flashing a bit. There’s a slight quaver in their voice- not from lack of constitution, but from trying to keep their voice at an airplane-appropriate volume. “People are gonna do stupid shit. Stuff that’s maybe not that great for them. Or the people around them. They’re gonna… I dunno. Snort a line of coke off the giant yet perky titties of a military themed stripper named Major Gunns while totally blasted off Jaeger Bombs at the Pink Cannonballs in Orlando, Florida. Is that a good course of action? Probably fucking not. Do they deserve to get their teeth kicked in until they course correct? Fuck. No. Learning from bad life experiences is part of being fucking human. If everybody behaved themselves like good little drones under threat of beratement or beatings, it’d be under duress and nobody would ever learn a fucking thing.” For a moment, John turned to Mike, giving them a curious eyebrow raise to this oddly specific tale. He had a question on the tip of his tongue but with the camera on, he felt it better to barrel on through. “So spare us the moralizing. The Zombie Clan has aspirations to spread itself far and wide. And as of now, things seem to be working.  And while we respect those aforementioned accomplishments, Mike and I find it interesting that there seemed to be little resistance to when those championships were stolen from the Clan. Seemingly content with moving on to other matters. As vague and mysterious as those are, it seems a bit strange that Zombie Vice Squad rides again after we walked into this company … stepping over them.” Mike tisked, shaking their head. “And you could say that wasn’t your fuckin’ fault and I’d believe it. We know what happened and we already touched on it. That wasn’t a gaffe on you guys’ part, that was you getting screwed. But you know what WAS a gaffe on you guys’ part? Kowloon kapowing Siberia’s cute blue-haired butt right out of the ring during the Rite of Kings battle royal. Now, accidents happen, fuck knows. Kowloon, you seemed pretty fuckin’ distraught about it. But one’s gotta wonder…” They tapped their temple, a cheshire cat-like grin playing over their features. “...how does Miss Siberia feel about that? I wouldn’t blame her for being a tad bit fuckin’ miffed at you.” “We aren’t trying to create any dissension,” John’s smile was wry, “Trust us on that. Maybe that’s all been ironed out. Understand that we aren’t here to play for other prizes. There is only one that matters.” “No split vision here. My partner doesn’t have his sights on the Apex- let Callum and Cross and Cooper squabble about that shit. I don’t have my sights on the Unleashed Title- though honestly I’d love to fucking fight Aoki just to see how I do. The Chimeras are all we want. They’re worth being all we want. Those beautiful babies deserve better than to be someone’s second choice.” “They deserve better than to be held by a team that can’t go one week without bickering for the most inane reasons.” John’s thoughts went towards their defeat and despite the measure of comeuppance served to one Dakota Jennings, both of them were still empty handed. “But our claim to those championships has expired and we need to earn that chance all over again. Can’t think of a better way to make our case, Mike.” “Just call us a couple of zombie hunters. We know exactly what we need to do.” There’s that shark grin. Mike leaned into the shot, their devilish look filling up nearly the entire picture. “Look out for the teeth and aim for the fucking head.” The shot lingered on that grin another moment before the picture clicked off.

[rewrittenkoomie]

“That’s not the wind howling” Chapter 1.

Dealing with snow was difficult, I don’t even remember why I moved into this little honkey-tonk town to begin with.

Oh, that’s right, my folks BEGGED me to come and live nearby so they could visit their grandchild more easily. It wasn’t all bad though, the view was nice and the mountains kept the worst of the weather at bay, plus it was a pretty rural area.

There were Farms nearby that my son could visit and learn about various animals and the farmers themselves were friendly enough to let him run all his energy while playing with the foals, or even letting him pet the hatchlings. He was fascinated by the small critters that would flow and ebb around his ankles, and was ecstatic when a horse would trot up calmly to meet with him.

Personally, I loved farm animals too, but being so incredibly lazy, I knew that raising them was a  task larger than I was willing to deal with. My five year-old son would come home with stories and beg to keep some of the smaller animals, most notably chicks and ducklings. He’d been begging for weeks now, ever since the other kids all got to play with and even keep at least one pet from their parent’s farms.

His eyes had been huge, begging me silently for the opportunity to have a small life that he could coddle and nurture all of his own.

“Now, you know animals are not toys. If you have one, you have to take care of it.” He nodded emphatically, His dark brown curls bouncing off his forehead and tumbling with each movement. “You know they must be Fed multiple times daily, they need to have their area cleaned up, and you need to play with them. Plus, IF,” and I stopped, Hands on my hips, Tilting my head to drive the point home.

“IF I get a pet for you, you will be in charge of it, anything it does wrong will be your fault. You have to train it to be good. Okay?” My son’s eyes danced, his wide grin so hopeful and bright.

I didn’t stand a chance.

“I’ll be really good momma! I’ll give it baths and play with it and even take it for walks, jus’ like Genny from the Holted’s farm does with the Lambs!” He was dancing in place, so excited. He didn’t seem to care if I was getting him a dog, cat, foal or even a mouse, he just wanted a pet. Something he could nurture and be proud of.

I sighed in defeat, “Okay, but it’ll have to wait until I can talk to the farmers nearby to see if any of them are willing to let you have one of their animals okay?” He squealed with delight, tackling my legs and hugging them tight. “THANK YOU MOMMA! I’LL BE THE BESTEST PET OWNER EVER!”

He then turned and ran out the door to plow through the snow I had yet to shovel from the walkway.

Shortly after he ran off to somewhere, most likely to one of the farms that he loved to wander around, I was outside and shoveling the drifts back up to the yard. It was hard work, using muscles that I didn’t normally work out.

I was just a simple single mother, working as a receptionist at a company about three hours’ drive from home into the city round-trip. It was pretty easy work, seeing as it’s all I’d been doing for the last decade. I had moved into the Rural area to be closer to my folks, plus the classes for my son were smaller and The housing was pretty darn cheap. Even more so when my folks owned the house, and land, and let us live in the mother-in-law house. All I was required to pay was the utilities for my portion.

It was a sweet deal, and after the nasty break up with the father of my son, it was a haven. I could relax and not have to worry about what that man was doing to our child while I was working. I was also getting more time to spend with my son. He seemed to flourish with all the nature around us.

I had just finished the walkway to the garage that sat next to our little home when a big Red pickup truck pulled up next to me and rolled his window down.

“Hey there Teddy, how’s it going?” Theodore was a Farmer from a few houses down, which was an average of 5 miles away, he came to visit occasionally since he met my son and preferred to be called Teddy. His Farm in particular housed larger animals. Cows, Bulls, Horses and even a few Ostriches, I still didn’t know why or how he came across those huge birds.

“I’m all good ‘Belle, how’s Gunter?” His cocky smile always made me feel warm inside.

Theodore was one of the few Bachelors still living nearby, and was a total package deal. He was tall, around six foot five, and had thick black hair. His pale green eyes seemed to sparkle when he talked about his two great passions his farm, or food. He had the traditional Farmers’ Tan and was built like a brick house. He swore he had the money for the ‘Fancy machines’ but was convinced that they made more problems than they fixed, so almost everything was done the Old-fashioned way with sweat and muscle.

He did have a couple of four-wheelers for feeding his animals and even took my son out to go meet the herds once or twice.

“Gunter’s been begging for a pet again, and I just couldn’t say ‘no’ one more time.” I sighed as Theodore chuckled.

“’E’s a good boy! A pet would do him some good, mebbie settle ‘im down some.” I pursed my lips and shot him a look of disbelief. He just continued to smirk, then changed the subject.

“Anyway, I was wonderin’ if you’d be so kind as to feed a poor bastard for the’ night?” He took on a pleading look, clasping his hands out the window as if in prayer. I sighed again, “And here I thought you liked me cuz I’m pretty!” I giggled as his face lit up.

“Just help me with the driveway so you can park and You’re mor’n welcome to stick around.” He whooped and backed up his truck quickly, then tumbled out into the crisp snow after he’d parked on the side of the road. He quickly rummaged through the truck bed and pulled out a sturdy snow shovel and began on one end of the driveway while I started at the other.

Within the hour the whole driveway had been cleared and salted just as more snow decided to fall.

“I wonder which farm Gunter decided to wander off to this time?” I wondered out loud, Teddy shrugged and dusted off his jeans as we entered the mud room to the house.

“I’s Sure he didn’t go my way, I woulda’ spotted ‘im and brought ‘im back with me.” Teddy slipped his work boots off and we both walked into the house, rosy cheeked and sweaty.

I pulled off my jacket and rested it on the nearby chair and pulled my cell phone out of the top pocket. There were no new messages, but I sent out a text to the local Farmers asking if they’d seen my son and to let me know if they needed me to come get him. In the meantime, Teddy settled down at the kitchen counter, practically draped over the stool. He sniffed the air, drinking in the scent of the pot roast I had prepped hours ago as it bubbled in the crockpot. I smirked as he hummed to himself.

Shaking my head I pulled out the potatoes I had peeled and boiled earlier and set to mashing them. Teddy always seemed to pick the days I was making a good-old fashioned lunch or dinner to ‘pop’ over and invite himself in. I didn’t really mind, seeing as he was a gentleman and always tried to help out with things that needed fixing.

He’d helped fix the roof last summer and even helped with prepping the garden back in spring so that I could actually start growing something. I’d done the work of planting, but getting the posts in the ground and the boxes in place? All Teddy’s handiwork.

“Would you please grab one of the Pie tins from the Pantry? And the smaller bag of flour too please!” Teddy may have been relaxing, but he was quick to react when I asked for something. Soon enough I’d had all the potatoes mashed and the pie tin waiting for me on the counter.

Teddy stretched and touched the ceiling with his fingertips as he sauntered into the living room. I blushed lightly, since his stretch had pulled his T-shirt from his jeans and exposed a part of his sculpted lower back. He was deliciously handsome and Fit, if only a hunk like him was interested in a flabby wench like myself. I sighed, dashing that thought from my mind.

No man in a rural area wanted a pre-started family, especially with the kind of baggage we brought to the table.

As I put together the Apple pie, the timer on the pot roast went off and I opened it up to check how it was doing. Teddy had turned on the Radio to one of the local rock stations. I tasted the stock from around the roast and cut into the meat, checking how soft it was. It was perfect.

The potatoes had been put in the oven with some garlic and butter sauce to cook a bit more and the pie was in the smaller oven browning to perfection. I was very satisfied with myself, in less than a year, I’d learned to cook some damn-fine meals. It didn’t hurt that a lot of the women around the area traded recipes all the time. Adding to that, quite a few of the farmers would barter meat and eggs for veggies and fruit too.

My contribution was that since I went into town so often, they would trade me staple goods for exotic things from town, or fetching packages from the post office for them when I was on my way home. I loved to bring home bulk items that I could then later trade for some fresh eggs or milk.

I pulled the Mashed potatoes from the Oven to cool on the rack and arranged the Pot roast and Its fixings on a plate. When I turned to start setting up the table, there was a knock at the door. It sounded almost urgent and I wiped my hands on a towel I kept on the oven handle.

Teddy heard the rapping on the door and had emerged from the Living room, brows knit together and frowning slightly. He stood behind me as I opened up the mudroom door and unlocked the outer door. Teddy’s arms were crossed and he leaned on the doorframe as the outer door opened to a harried looking Farmer from three houses down the road to the north.

“Fredrick, what’s wrong?” I was surprised, normally Fredrick wore a sort of soft half-smile. Like he was privy to a secret and was never going to tell anyone.

His pure white hair was sticking up on all directions and he had an almost wild look to his soft brown eyes. “It’s Gunter,” He croaked, and my body went cold. Ice seemed to shoot up my spine as my stomach tightened.

“W-what about Gunter?” I whispered, Fredrick ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier. Fredrick refused to look into my eyes, and instead stared at Teddy.

“Fredrick?” I was scared, and being ignored wasn’t helping. I looked to Teddy, who was frowning and looked almost murderous. It was chilling to see the fire in his eyes, as if he was going to break the first thing he touched.

“Teddy?” I was cautious, I had seen my Ex-husband with that look, and when I’d bothered him, He’d tried to break me to soothe his anger.

Unfortunately for him, I refused to break.

Teddy clutched at his shirt and took a deep breath, leaning his head back as his eyes closed. Just as rapidly, he stepped forward and I stepped back. I pushed myself against the wall in the mud room, trying to keep from aggravating Teddy. He shoved his feet in his boots and threw on his jacket.

“Teddy.” I breathed his name, my chest tight. His shoulders where stiff and he stood with both hands fisted at his sides.

“’Belle,” He started, voice rough with what sounded like fury, “I’ll try t’ be back ‘fore sundown.” He strode forward, Fredrick rushing to his own Deep green SUV. Teddy practically stomped up to his Red pickup and seemed to rip the door open. I’d followed them outside, where the snow was gently falling around us, almost surreal.

Once he’d gotten into the vehicle, I tapped on the glass of his driver’s window. He took a moment to breathe, then rolled it down to face me. His eyes seemed to blaze, sharper and brighter than before the green even more vibrant than before.

“What happened Teddy? Please tell me!” I begged, Gunter was my baby, He’d been a complete surprise to my-then-husband and I.

I’d been elated to prove the doctors wrong, as I’d been told I was infertile only a few months prior, but my husband had been furious. He hadn’t wanted a child at all. Not only had Gunter proven the doctors wrong about my fertility, but they proved them wrong about my ability to carry at all. I had carried him successfully until two weeks before my due date, the day my husband first started beating me.

It had been a shock to have the man I’d married hit me so hard. Sure, we’d argued a bit, but that was normal and we’d always found a common ground and made amends. Something about having a child drove my husband crazy and he’d finally snapped.

We’d been arguing about where we’d move to after he’d gotten his promotion. He wanted to move to the East coast, but I was adamant about moving to the Midwest. At the time we’d lived a bit between the two. I wanted to be closer to family, both his and mine, and He wanted to start living more ‘in-style’.

I’d refused to move with him to the East coast, and He hit me. I was so shocked that I had frozen on the floor where I landed and just stared at him.

It had taken me only a week to decide to leave him the first time.

We’d made up for it later and had struggled to cope, but in the end All I asked of him, was to leave us alone. I didn’t want his money, or his name, just the child we’d created together. He agreed and signed the paperwork that released me from the nightmare of being his Wife.

Teddy was tense, and I thought he was going to lash out at me for getting in his way. He moved his left arm quickly and I flinched back, anticipating a smack, but it never came. I had closed my eyes reflexively, but cracked them open to see Teddy with his arm held out, a strained look on his face and the green of his eyes pale again. He gripped the steering wheel with his right hand so hard that It creaked, and he gently held his left hand to my face.

“ ‘Belle, I will never, ever hurt you on purpose.”  He practically growled as his hands felt rough against my skin but he rubbed my cheek so gently, as If I was made of spun glass, just waiting to fall apart. Tears were welling from my eyes and I was on the verge of bawling, I just wanted to know what was happening to my son!

As if he heard my mental cry, he cupped my chin once more, and gently pulled me to look up into his eyes. The green had lit up once more, and seemed to search inside mine for something.

“I’m sorry ‘Belle.” He whispered, “I cain’t tell you what you want to know.” He took a deep breath, releasing my chin. He then leaned against the doorframe and propped himself out the window to kiss me.

His lips were softer than I’d imagined, and the rough feel of his stubble was almost delightful, making warmth spread down into my core. My hands reached up and I took a step forward wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in deeper. He groaned against my mouth and reached out again with his left hand and mixing his fingers into my wavy blonde hair, his right keeping him steady In the window. I stood there like a statue, reveling in the feel of his warm mouth and dancing tounge.

Suddenly he parted from me, and groaned while shaking his head. I was blinking, still overwhelmed with everything and in complete disbelief. Teddy just kissed me.

“’’Belle, stay here. Please.” His eyes still blazed, but there was some gold creeping in, he looked almost feral. I nodded dumbly, not thinking at all.

“Don’t open the door after sunset, and do’n open it ‘till after Sunrise.” I was transfixed on Teddys’ face, as I nodded again, and I opened my mouth to question why, when he shook his head once and grimaced.

“I cain’t tell you darlin’, not yet.” His hands were shaking, and he finally put his truck into gear. I stepped back, finally realizing I’d been standing there longer than a few minutes and shivered.

“I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. Jus’ …sit tight, I’ll find yer boy and git him home safe. That’s a Promise!” He pulled out of the driveway and directed himself northward, to Fredrick’s farm. The Truck squealed in protest at changing gears so quickly, from reverse to drive and then being pushed to dive through the fresh snow at a high speed.

I stood there shivering until his truck faded from sight into the woods that surrounded my home. It was a few moments before I turned to go back inside, and by then the pie I’d been preparing was ruined, and I flipped the oven off. The pot roast was now dry and even the potatoes were cold.

So much for Dinner.

I was still in a state of shock, Gunter was God-knows-where in some sort of trouble, and Teddy had kissed me. Between the Elation of that kiss and the Fear of losing my only child, I was frozen. I stumbled into the living room, ignoring the food or the mess it caused in favor of hopefully making sense of what was going on.

I knew when I had moved in only two years ago, that this town was small and had its oddities. My folks had always told me to check the eaves for bats, make sure that there were no animal tracks around the house and to water the toadstools that circled the small house I lived in.

The bats and the tracks I could understand, but the mushrooms? I didn’t question my folks, and did as they said. Once or twice I found coyote tracks and raccoon tracks around the house and showed Gunter how to distinguish them from one another.

He was practically a natural at picking up practical knowledge like that. He even went so far as to have someone teach him to make plaster molds of the more interesting prints he found and asked to keep them on a shelf in his room. To this day he had well over a dozen tracks, some canine, a few feline, and a few deer tracks too.

I was still shivering.

I wasn’t cold anymore, but I couldn’t stop shivering. There was something my mother had told me before they’d suggested Gunter and I move out to live with them.

“There’s quite a few tall tales around this little town, most of them having to do with werewolves. I know it seems far-fetched, but these folks take those tales seriously.”

Werewolves, was Teddy insinuating that they were real? That Gunter had been caught up with them? Or did something terrible happen and no one wanted to be the bearer of Bad news? I had started scratching my arms in a nervous fit, only realizing I was doing so when I felt warm liquid running down the rest of my arm.

I’d scratched right through my skin, leaving me bleeding. I swore to myself,

“This isn’t getting me anywhere!” I stomped over to the bathroom and tended to my arm. Once that was finished, I still felt the need to be ‘doing’ something.

Teddy had been pretty adamant about me staying indoors once the Sun set. And a quick glace outside had me guessing that I had about an hour before I needed to close myself in for the night.

Quickly, I put on my thickest sweater and leggings, hoping that I could make it outside and back before the stipulated time. I rushed through the mud room and yanked on my knee-high boots a colorful scarf, and my parka jacket.

After thinking about it, I returned to the living room and reached up to the doorway where the Remington 700 was perched just for safety’s sake. I checked the barrel from the loading mechanism, and it looked all clear. Pausing by the closet nearest the door to the mudroom, I rifled through the jackets until I reached the back wall where the dial and handle was visible for the safe where I kept the ammunition.

A quick turn of the dial and the safe was open. I only took five bullets from the box and loaded them into the Rifle. After which I shut the safe and locked it back into place.

Slinging the rifle over my shoulder carefully, I headed out the front door.

I had checked the doors to the house and had locked both of them. The mud room was never locked, to shelter people from the cold or heat depending on the season. If Gunter came home and everything was locked, he wouldn’t be in danger staying in the mud room.

I turned to the Road in front of the house, took a deep breath, and stepped beyond the circle of dormant Toadstools around the house. It was going to take time, but If I walked, I was less likely to miss hearing screaming or shouts. I had started my trek facing North. Since that was where the men had run off to, that’s the most likely area that Gunter was.

I quickly realized, no matter how motivated I was, I was not physically ready to make this trek. I was breathing heavily, and sweating terribly. My knees and feet had already started to hurt, and when I glanced behind me, I couldn’t see my house anymore. The sun, however, was just touching the skyline. I was just getting close to the neighboring farmstead.

The Nylors home was ranch-style and honestly very pretty, if a bit more rustic than I liked. I trudged up the shoveled walkway and stopped to catch my breath before I attempted to knock on the door. Their Mud room was much larger, and much nicer than mine, but then again, they had a larger family and had also been living here much longer.

I finally found my breath and knocked on the house door after stomping out the snow from my boots. I heard some scuffling, and then heard a creak as someone stepped up to the door.

“Who ‘dere?” came the gruff voice of Pa Nylor, The Patriarch of the family. He was the oldest living person in the town and was also the only person who could handle any animal regardless of its temper.