#to her i am still a foreign tourist but at least i am not a british one

[tesco-finest-aromantics]

in trying not to become the british tourist who doesn’t speak a lick of french, i bumped into a woman and was about to say sorry, realised i should speak in french, racked my brains for the french word for ‘sorry’, brain gave me back ‘bocsánat’

[fresh-fanfics]

Yandere! Kaoru Hanayama x AFAB! Reader

TW: Depression, Mommy Issues, Stalking, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Delusional Thoughts.

Reader: A foreign college student who's currently taken. She's a bit of a brat, but has a good heart.

So I finally have an idea for a fanfic with Hanayama. I really like the idea of making Yandere fics with him, he just seems so perfect for them. This fic is gonna be a multipart, I'm used to making slow burns so if you don't swing with that, I don't know what to tell you. Buckle up? Anyways, enjoy.

Hanayama was no romantic man. Even with all the money and power in the world, no girl would ever want to stay with someone as dangerous as him. For a while, he was satisfied with this life. He had accepted that no person would ever look at him in adoration and pure love. As empty as it was going day to day, girl to girl, brothel to brothel, it was enough to distract him from his loneliness. When work became too much, he distracted himself with empty pleasure and the moans of prostitutes that were just there for the money.

He laid down against a brick wall, bleeding on the cold and dark floor at a filthy alleyway. It had been one of those days where the underground world was at a state of unrest, violent gang wars breaking out without any signs of stopping. He had no choice but to step in, show everyone who the real boss was. Hanayama knew he would survive. He always does, but sometimes he wished he didn't. He knew he needed to move, but peace like this was a luxury. Any man that tried to disturb this solemn moment would not live to tell the tale. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the cold wind blow against his face.

"Oh my God, sir, you're bleeding! Are you okay? What happened?" A feminine voice took Hanayama out of his thoughts, his eyes opening to find a woman that bent down with concern in her eyes.

He stayed silent, his steel-hardened gaze observing her delicate stature. She was a cute little thing, the equivalent of a tree sapling that had yet to bloom. He trumped her in size and strength, yet she was unafraid. Hanayama had seen hardened men twice her height and stature that would quiver at his feet, but not her. This naive woman who dotted over him like cattle. He watched her ramble about and rummage through her purse for some kind of thing that would stop the bleeding.

He knew it was useless and no amount of nursing from a stranger was going to make the pain disappear, but he commended her effort despite how foolish it was. Did she even realize who she was helping? She was naive to be tending to a man that has crushed millions of gangsters like a grape.

"Okay, almost...Got it." She had tied a makeshift tourniquet around his left arm using her cardigan.

"Can you get up?"

The large man gave a slight nod, struggling to stand up on his two feet while this stranger tried to help him stabilize his trembling form.

What was this woman doing? She must have either been the most oblivious thing on the planet or the most wreckless. She certainly didn't look like she belonged here.

"You speak good Japanese for a tourist." He spoke at out of the blue, making her slightly jump from his sudden comment.

The woman gave a forced chuckle.

"Actually, I've been living here for a while now. I know I don't exactly look like I am, but this is still my home as much as yours."

Kaoru felt conflicted, processing the words inside his head. Despite being born and raised in Japan, it didn't feel like home. Being raised in a Yakuza family was not easy for a young kid. Violence was your normal, and there was no telling if you would live to fight another day. He envied her naivety, the innocence in her eyes that he never got to keep. It was depressing to think about, to say the least.

"We definitely need to get you to the hospital. These injuries are not something you can shrug off." She reached for her phone before he grabbed her wrist with his other hand, causing her to flinch from its tight grip.

"No need. I know a doctor. I'll give you the number." He noticed her trembling form, loosening his grasp as he dialed the numbers and letting the phone ring.

"Hello? Who is this? How did you get this number?" An elegant voice could be heard from the other side, calling out to whoever was there.

"Kureha. I need your services." Without even uttering his name, Hanayama knew that Kureha would recognize his deep and raspy tone. He spoke with conviction and directness.

"Kaoru? What happened to-You know what, it doesn't matter. Where are you right now?" Kureha sighed in exasperation.

"I'm in an alleyway at the Red Light District near Deathmatch pub. Come quick." He hung up without so much as a goodbye, dropping her phone in her hands.

"You can go. I don't need your help anymore."

The foreigner girl's face soured, glaring at him as she shoved her phone in her bag.

"Hmph. You're welcome." She grumbled, gritting her teeth and turning up her nose at rude man.

"I guess I'm not needed here. Good luck. I hope you recover well." Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she left him alone in the alleyway.

He watched her figure disappear through the bustling crowds in the city streets without even as much as looking back at him. Hanayama stared into space, alone in a cold alley once again. Despite her bratty behaviour, he didn't mind it at all.

"Huh. Strange. This girl is something else. For someone who claims to have lived here for a while, she's damn clueless. I'll admit, she has guts to talk down to me like that.."

Before he could dwell on it any longer, a series of loud sirens blared down the streets with an ambulance stopping nearby. Paramedics clamored to take him away for treatment, rushing him towards the hospital.

It would seem that he'd have to hold that thought for a while...

To be continued.

[muserryy]

LIFE OF REVA (H.S)

LIFE OF REVA MASTERLIST || main masterlist

summary: Reva, a young woman who recently moved to a foreign country to pursue her higher education, is striving to adapt and navigate her new life. Harry, her flatmate, becomes a significant part of her journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER ONE!!

Reva D'Souza

Bristol. This is somebody's hometown, and I've never been here before. 

It was just a city I heard about in conversations until now. As I wandered through the neighbouring streets, unfamiliar buildings. unknown faces, and sights, the sounds of this place were far from the comforts of home. It was all exciting but also more intimidating for me. 

The evening breeze gently caressed my skin, still warm under the almost setting sun. I strolled past varied shops, stores, and graffiti-covered walls, trying to soak it all in. 

The streets beyond the museum were bustling with vibrant colours, and scenes, full of life. I was in awe of all the work done on the buildings. My feet came to a stop in front of a phone shop. The small building was painted with various phone application icons and logos from top to bottom. Even the shutter, which was down, had work done on it. The shop was closed.

My hand almost reached into my pocket for my phone to snap pictures, but I hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of self-consciousness. It always holds me back. It's not just shyness; it's this nagging feeling, maybe my mindset, that people might judge me. They might think it's better to live in the moment than to constantly snap pictures like a typical tourist or worse, a wannabe social media influencer. But then maybe they wouldn't care at all and might mind their own business.

Although there's nothing wrong with wanting to capture every moment, in fact, it is a sweet thing to do– preserving moments. I've never done that. I want to, but I think I just couldn't get to it. I don't remember ever taking out my phone in public unless it's necessary. 

It's funny how little things like this can hold me back. Maybe I'm too sensitive or anxious, but the thought of  being judged makes me self conscious, even in such a beautiful and vibrant city.

Maybe some other day, I told myself, now that I'm living here for my studies. I guess I'll have plenty of time.

I continued walking until I found myself once again stopping in front of a cafe. The frames of the glass windows and the door were painted in deep red. Through the glass windows, I could see its cosy interior– the warm golden lights were inviting and there were only a few people sitting inside, so it was not crowded. It looked classy.

I stood there for a moment, gathering my thoughts and debating whether to go inside and treat myself to a coffee or just continue my walk before heading back to my flat. The second option seemed easier to me, a lot easier than interacting. 

But I felt like trying. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. I had never been to a cafe alone before, let alone bought myself a coffee. But then again, I had never travelled so far away from my family and lived apart from them. Yet, here I was, and I still couldn't believe it. I had never envisioned a day like this. The thought of living on my own and being away from the people I had always been dependent on never seemed like a possibility.

I looked up at the sky briefly and a realization struck me: no one knows me here, and I don't know anyone either. I can choose to present myself however I want. No one knows me, no one to stop me from doing what I want. I shouldn't care about how people who I don't even know will perceive me. 

It is a strange sense of freedom– the thought of being outgoing, being loud, being different. I can be anything I want in this new place, right? No… no! I cannot. All my life, I have been a quiet and shy child. That's who I am… or at least, that's who I've always been. Can I change that? 

I sighed. I'm dwelling unnecessarily. It's not a big deal. It's just people, a cafe, and a cup of coffee.

"I think I really need that caffeine fix now," I said to myself. 

I pushed open the door and the bell chimed as I stepped inside. The warmth of the cafe enveloped my skin, along with the distinct and sweet aroma of various types of coffee and freshly baked goodies, drawing me in further. I had no idea what I wanted to order. I knew I wanted coffee but I hadn't really thought about the specifics.

Approaching the counter, the barista greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good evening ma'am. What would you like to have?"

oh, ma'am??  

I returned the smile, peering at the menu board pinned on the side wall. There was so much to choose from– espresso, cappuccino, lattes, americanos, mochas, and more. What was even the difference between all of them? I was an inexperienced coffee drinker, you see.

After scanning through the options, I made a decision and turned my attention back to the barista. "A cappuccino, please." I politely requested, feeling a bit nervous.

"A cup of cappuccino, what size?" he nodded.

I paused, more like my mind was loading. "A small one, please" I gestured with my fingers.

He nodded again, typing away on the computer. "A small cappuccino… anything else?"

"That's all, thank you."

"That'll be £2.50"

I rummaged through my bag, retrieved my wallet, and paid the amount. 

While waiting for my cappuccino, I took the time to scan the interior of the cafe. The sound of the coffee machine filled the air. The chairs and tables were made of dark wood, the red and beige walls looked pretty under the soft golden lights and a few potted plants were placed around the space. 

My eyes fell on a small table near the window. It was empty and looked like a perfect spot to sit and enjoy the view of the street outside. I patiently waited for my drink, feeling excited because I was done with the ordering and payments. 

"Your cappuccino." The barista slid the cup towards me. 

I thanked him, picked up my cup, and headed to the very table that had caught my attention earlier.

I settled into the chair and placed my cup on the table. I smiled to myself, that wasn't hard. It might sound silly but ordering a drink by myself felt like a small victory. 

The cup was a classic plain red china, filled with creamy milk and a foamy layer. It was only then that I noticed the colour scheme of the cafe– red and beige. Everything in the cafe was almost red, from the napkins to the barista's uniform. It was lovely, though I had yet to taste my cappuccino.

Bringing the cup to my lips, I felt the comfortable warmth from the cup around my fingers. I savoured a sip; it was velvety on my tongue and perfectly sugary. I felt content and satisfied. 

My ears were filled with the sounds of clinking cups and plates along with the low chatter of people. I slowly drank more, gazing out of the window at the street. The sun was almost setting, with people passing by and vehicles speeding past. 

Yesterday, I called my mum to share news of my new life in Bristol. I mentioned the flat and the flatmate I'm sharing it with. but I also politely requested her not to tell dad about this particular detail– that my flatmate happens to be a guy. He would never approve, so I asked her to just mention that I was living with a college student, without disclosing the gender.

When I first arrived in Bristol, Siya, my sister's best friend, came to pick me up. I stayed at her apartment until my enrollment procedure was completed. Once done with all the paperwork, I realized that the route to my college from there was annoyingly long. 

I took my time and did my best to secure an on-campus dormitory room, but unfortunately, they were already taken by the time I applied. I was frustrated and desperate for a place to live. I talked to my parents about my situation and  began my search for off-campus housing. Thankfully, I found a nearby flat for rent. Siya helped me a lot by doing half of the talking and research for me. 

The apartment I was renting was located in a very nice area within walking distance of the college. When Siya and I first visited, the landlord told us there weren't any vacant flats available. However, to my luck, he then informed us about the current tenant who was looking for a flatmate. Unfortunately, we couldn't meet him that day as he was on vacation, but he was fine with us checking out the flat. The landlord seemed to have a very positive impression of this young guy. 

"He's generous and a really sweet guy. You have nothing to fret about," he reassured us, mentioning that he had been living there for nearly two years. 

That was my chance. I knew it could easily be snatched up by another student, so after hearing all the good things about the guy, I took the opportunity and told the landlord that I was firm on renting it. He agreed and said he would talk to the guy to see if he was also okay with me sharing the space. 

I knew we were complete strangers and couldn't meet face-to-face to talk, but to my surprise with the little information given about me, he agreed. I was thankful. Siya was unsure but supported my decision. 

I knew I shouldn't make assumptions about this guy until I met him, but I told myself that even if he turned out to be a "bad influence" type, I would keep my focus on myself and my studies.

The first time I met him was when I was moving in and bringing my belongings. Harry Styles, my flatmate, was in his early twenties and currently in his final year at the same university as me.

I must admit, I initially felt intimidated by his confident and outgoing demeanor. However, he was kind and helpful. He assisted me around and even offered to lend me a hand in settling my stuff. I also immediately felt a flutter of attraction towards him– he stood tall and lean, exuding a rough boyish vibe that contrasted with his sweet personality. He was kind and respectful, and I felt at ease.

Beautiful. He was truly beautiful just to sit and gaze at. His emerald eyes were simply captivating, I couldn't even look into them during our brief interactions. His hair was a thick, soft mass of chocolate brown curls, that he always ran his hand through to push back. His lips—

Wait, wait, wait. Am I moving too fast? It hasn't even been a full week, but there's no denying that I'm drawn to him.

I sighed and stared at my empty cup, wondering when I finished it. I glanced out of the window, noticing the sun had set and the sky had turned dark. I felt a shiver of anxiety. I noticed a rowdy group of friends, who appeared to be college students like me. They were talking and laughing loudly.

I couldn't help but wonder what my college life would be like.

chapter 2 !!

[mellowwillowy]

Greetings, I have something to ask of you dear friend,

I am here from my piqued curiosity which stemmed, today's recommend is quite a treat, how would Castiel handle his spouse reader's 'remarried'?

Poor dear little thing, fallen into the hands of masculine fiend's sweet words (Male XL). After being wiped away from the mortal record (wiped memory).

-𝕻𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖎'𝖒𝖚

(ps: surprise me, lol. Take your time and plan however you want, and customize it how you will.)

Castiel is not pleased with the idea of his beloved specimen stolen from him, at all. And on top of that? It is some otherworldly entity that he has never seen.

Something was wrong that day. In the morning when he'd usually wake you up soothingly, he was taken aback by how a stalwart man has infiltrated into his abode. His attire was... unique at the very least, or would he say, foreign.

But, what surprised him was you cradled in his arms, laying limp but still maintaining a steady breath which meant you were still alive.

Castiel wasted no time pulling out his electrical baton in one hand while the other focused on sending a signal with the device that he created himself.

"What do you want?" He snarled toward the stranger. The long pink-haired man grinned at his question while opting to stay quiet.

"Who sent you here? Are those stupid researchers ordering you to mess with me again? If so, my spouse has nothing to do with this."

The pink-haired fellow showed various expressions to Castiel, from baffled, thinking to a rather... unsightly smirk.

"This your spouse eh? I like them, they look so pretty that I think I want to throw them into a cage." The time spent to propose this idea allowed Castiel to lunge forward and face them head to head. While both of their hands were occupied by your limp figure, they could only opt to evade his attacks graciously as though they were dancing.

"Wow! Rude! And I haven't even introduced myself!" They tried to trip the angered scientist but failed to due to how fast he recovered. "Let's keep it short, pal'. The name's A-Li, and your name is Castiel right?" A swing to the left was dodged by hair.

"Look, I have nothing to do with your LIfE Project, I'm just a tourist okay?" Despite how heavy the tension was, they still managed to cackle in humor before leaping at least 5 meters away from Castiel.

From then on, the man shifted one of his arms to take off his hairpin, his other arm holding you still like a sack of flour. "You are in a world of hurt buddy." The beautiful hairpin glowed and turned into a pristine white sword.

Surely Castiel has no chance of winning against an otherworldly creature. And he had no choice but to clench his flesh wound. A-Li was ruthless, contrary to the rather bright image they posed.

"Pebbles shouldn't uphold themselves so high. Surely this would be a valuable lesson for you, scientist."

--

Yet another mistake in adjusting the tubes' temperature resulted in yet another failure. He would not be hearing the end from his fellow scientists for wasting yet another resource.

Castiel had never regarded himself to be a man who was capable of loving but your absence had certainly shaken him. That day, he was saved by the rushing scientists who found him lying on the ground, bleeding. There was no trace of the fight he had shared earlier and there was no trace of any ruined wall in which they opened a portal and left this world for good with you.

"Seriously, get a hold of yourself, Cas. Since when have you softened for a mere specimen?" The woman scowled as she inputted yet another failure into the data.

"... You ought to help me than reprimand me, Diana." Diana rolled her eyes and gestured to the other man to console Castiel. The man was hesitant but patted his shoulder, "... you'd find someone else soon." Wow, really consoling, Diederich.

But then, from the edge of his eyes, he saw something that was not originally there. An envelope.

"Who placed it there?" "None of us did, perhaps it had always been there." "You are joking, you know I have a photographic memory, right?"

Diederich brought the envelope to Castiel, allowing him to inspect it. The wax seal was beautifully adorned with a flower crest, and on the corner was a foreign name.

XL.

Was it someone's code name? If so, he had no memories of who he had worked with using this name. He opened the envelope and was greeted with a handful of photos and a letter.

It was momentary silence that made Diana question him, "Well? What's in it? Another empty threat or another invitation for a collaboration?"

He had hoped it was yet another threat but no. You were there in the photos. Happily cradled by the pink-haired fellow. In fact, fellows. And he recognized one of them, A-Li.

The letter was not helping either, rubbing salt on his open wound. Castiel's jaw was clenched tightly as his hands crumpled the letter instinctively. A confession of how you were sealed into some sort of... romanticized pact with all the vessels.

The one who wrote the letter was not A-Li but rather, XL themself. They praised Castiel for allowing you to be taken into their world to humor their vessels.

"Looking back, I'm sure you understand what I mean by the world, Catiel. You are the head researcher for the project that is meant to unveil the secret of this life no? I suppose this is the price for the forbidden knowledge you are seeking in the Garden of Eden. For I am the apple in the 'Project Eden' you are leading.

Ah, why of course, this knowledge has been compensated by your beloved specimen, or should I say, spouse. Rest easy, child of man, for now, you are a step closer to achieving a greater truth.

Sincerely, XL."

And crumpled was the letter, thrown into a box of acid that left no trace of his disdain. Even so, his heart was incapable of destroying the evidence of your existence, even if you were smiling for someone else.

Even if you were no longer devoted to him. Even if you were no longer in love with him. Even if you were no longer in this world with him. Even if you were no longer in this life with him.

--

And folks! This is why CatboX and LIfE Project casts shouldn't be placed together in a story (xixixixi) because of the world differences.

[ruthlesslistener]

No listen, hornet was designed to mirror my trauma perfectly.

She's from two different places, both of which she doesn't feel like she belongs to, now suddenly stuck in a foreign land so so far away from anything resembling "home" that is exploiting the people of one side of her heritage, that of deepnest.

And the only reason she's they haven't caught her is due to the other side of her heritage, that of hallownest, that of the pale king, a side of her heritage that completly rejected the other, feeling like the other was beneath them. And that is the side allowing her special treatment, just enough to allow her to escape pharloom's grasp.

Do you think hornet feels guilt that the wyrm blood she carries, knowing that it is the only reason she isn't farm stock. Knowing that she owes the Deepnest side of her heritage.

Do you think she's tired? She thought she repented for the wyrm blood she carries by protecting the seals, for overlooking the land (her land?) In her father's stead. But now the one side of her heritage that she thought safe, the people she thought escaped are trapped and she must take the vigil again.

But she's so tired.

She thought she was done seeing people like her being mistreated, growing up alongside the pure vessel knowing that neither of them would have existed if not for this Plauge, feeling like their father sees the pair of them as nothing but a bitter debt. But now seeing the way pharloom treats the Deepnest immigrants she's reminded yet again that the world around her sees her as lesser.

Yet like with the pure vessel that she is still in a position of privilege, that she has it so much better.

This lack of singular heritage protects her.

Had she's been purely the pale king's child she'd have been tossed in the abyss like all the others

Had she been purely Herrah's child she'd have been farmed for silk by pharloom or consumed by the Plauge.

She's like a pet bird, yes caged, but not slaughtered like a chicken would, that must fuck with her.

God she must be so tired. But she won't say so, because she doesn't believe herself deserving of exhaustion.

I can't actually delve much into pharloom and Deepnest yet since we don't know much about them, which is why I cut the "essay" in the OG post short.

But if I were to say anything I'd say that Pharloom feels very Christian to me, while Deepnest is very much not, though I can't say which culture they're coded as. Which is fascinating because pharloom clearly accepts immigrants, or pilgrims as we saw in the trailer. It suggests to me that Pharloom is only accepting immigration from nations they deem "civilised", aka bug Christian, or at least willing to assimilate.

However the weavers are not willing to assimilate, and even if they were they look so different to the average bug, which means they cannot. I may be projecting but it's like how if you're a brown middle Eastern guy you can't exactly assimilate into western culture even if you wanted to cause you're not white.

Because of this pharloom keeps the weavers only for their labour and away from the eyes of tourists and pilgrims, to continue this facade of a "civilized" nation, afraid that the "barbaric" (aka not bug Christian) reputation of the Deepnest immigrants would taint that.

It's similar to how if you were to be hired into a factory job here in Europe or any major labor intensive job that is away from the eyes of the public it's filled with immigrants, as if the company knows that they'll accept harsher conditions. No I'm not speaking from personal experience whatever gave you that idea, heh, but seriously it's fucked I hope hornet tears pharloom into shreds.

...

OP I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH THANK YOU FOR THIS MEAL. I think the only thing I disagree on is Hornet's reaction to the burden of her heritage- I think she would be deeply, bitterly angry about it, a sort of ice-cold anger that mingles with the exhaustion yet overwhelms all else- but mmmmm YES this is so good. Hornet being a person stuck between worlds is something that is both her greatest strength, and yet also incredibly isolating for her. She was Deepnest's strongest heir because she was born of Wyrm and Beast, and yet she is still half-mortal compared to her siblings, formed of God and Void. She is the heir to Deepnest, but she is known as the Daughter of Hallownest, and ends up being its protector in the entirety when the Radiance massacred all who were not strong enough to resist her. She's got so much strength, but that strength led to more burdens placed on her shoulders, and now she's trapped in a foreign land far from home, captured like the rest of her tribe, yet tasked with freeing them because her divine blood gives her that edge over the people of Pharloom that her Weavers do not. It must be exhausting, being Hornet, but I'm hoping that some of that lonlieness will be dispelled by meeting fellow outcasts. I sure as fuck can relate to her, as the son of an immigrant and someone disconnected from their family/culture- it's part of why she's one of my favorite characters. Even if she's beloved by one or the other, she'll never fully fit in to either

I also agree on Pharloom having very Christian vibes, what with the rosaries and rigid religious structure and all. It's an interesting contrast from the Radiance, actually, who also gives me strong Christian vibes, but more in the sense of the old testament, wrathful sort of divinity. Pharloom, on the other hand, reminds me more of the corruption wrought by the church; the bounds placed upon others seem to be institutional, and the system of exploitation also seems to be baked into the social power dynamic rather than what we saw in Hollow Knight, where two divine beings that could not comprehend the lives of mortals ended up killing everyone in the nuclear blast radius of squabbling over their worship. It was not institutional; it was animalistic. The fact that Pharloom has a gilded citadel with which immigrants or pilgrims must struggle from the bottom up feels like a metaphor for climing the social ladder, where each rung you jump to demands more of your previous life lost. Those who conform easily and/or are native to Pharloom get to navigate comfortably up the ladder, while those who stick to their own cultural traditions (like the Weavers) are enslaved and exploited. We've yet to see the God of Pharloom, if there even is one, but so far Pharloom really does give me 'extremely strong and corrupt religious political power' vibes from the brief glimpses we see of it. Maybe that's just bc its actually alive instead of the gods being the only ones kind of clinging on, but still. Pretty sure rosaries are a Catholic thing?? Which pairs pretty nicely lots of gilded extravagance and exploitation, lmfao

Either way though, its vibes are absolutely rancid. I sure as fuck hope we see Hornet tearing out its bloated underbelly in Silksong, or at least personally beating back whatever caused the problem. After who knows how many centuries guarding the corpse of a kingdom felled by the folly of gods, she deserves a little regicide. As a treat

[alatismeni-theitsa]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFcaKjQL/

The tiktoker saying at the beginning "Guys i am literally Greek, but i have never been in Greece before" and i am like...

Oh no a Greek migrant that went to US but her family didn't probably kept her in touch with her roots 😬

I see it unfortunately with others that migrated to US from India, China, Europe etc where they will say often how when they visit their relatives they will barely know the language, and it's sad for them not knowing their language.

Eeh let's not throw a pity party for people we don't know. Most second or third-generation Greek immigrants who don't know the language are not fully responsible for that. There are many variables outside their control. Their parents or immediate family didn't teach them, and with other stuff going on it's a bit hard to pick up the language from zero.

There are also feelings of guilt and disconnect when one doesn't know the language of their parents and this can lead to the person picking up the language later. It is great and beneficiary to know the language of your parents since it's a big part of the culture, but for the reasons above I don't want to judge the Greek immigrants who don't know Greek. They can always learn later. Besides, the goal in their lives might not be to become "super Greek" and that's fine as well.

The girl could very well be Greek by ethnicity, it just doesn't show where she lives. If she was living in Congo or Myanmar she would be visibly a "foreigner".

Like here, many Greeks still call "Pakistani" (not "Pakistani-Greek") the children who grew up here and they could have visited Pakistan just 1-2 times. Greeks do that for Nigerian children, Albanian children etc. Very conveniently in these cases Greeks don't forget the ethnicity of these people, even though these second or third-generation immigrants may have never been to the country or been once and felt like tourists. With that logic, yeah, she could very well be Greek.

I find it incredibly stupid when Greeks use the "argument" (ο Θεος να το κανει) "but she has never visited Greece!" Sooo?? She didn't say she was a Greek citizen! She meant her family's culture was Greek. There are Greek communities all over the world and the people of these communities don't have Greek citizenship.

I also disagree with people who say "it's in her blood" because culture =/= blood. If blood had anything to do with it, second gen immigrants to Greece wouldn't "belong" to Greek culture at all (but they do). And blood doesn't automatically make you know your culture and history or language. You can engage with it, of course, as anyone else with "different blood" is free to do so. These people could just say "She grew up in the culture" and that's it.

Of course, we should address the elephant in the room; the fact that this woman treated the (mostly common Greek) food like she'd never seen it in her life, and she misnamed and mispronounced words all the time. Her behavior and expression, and attitude toward the food don't distinguish her at all from the stereotypical USAmerican girl. This shows she is culturally quite far removed from the culture and it's reasonable that her claim of being Greek creates skepticism. (I just wish they weren't so rude and stubborn about it).

I can also tell that she probably had little to no contact with Greek culture (even if her parents were 100% fully Greek and moved to the US -- and I assume she is from the US because of her tonality and accent). It's not a crime to be removed from your parents' culture and there is no reason to engage in Greek culture if she doesn't want to. I am just saying that starting the video with "Guys I am literally Greek…" and then proceeding to be a full-blown USAmerican in every turn is eeeeeeeh weird, to say the least.

If she indeed is Greek by ethnicity I won't tell her that she isn't but I guess her identity explanation could be a bit different and more accurate to her own experience?

[thesugarhole]

quick venting post just as i finally began internalizing 'oh well play the cards im dealt' and try to find some comfort in the life i currently have and making future plans to go for an easier get-by once i have a safety net (savings) its like. im suddenly and steadily bombarded by messages like 'make sure you do what you want now dont let life take you on the predicted path its a risk you gotta take' like fucking hello??? theyre not mutually exclusive to a degree but its also... idk to explain its like if you dont have it planned from 10 years old then you might have some good experiences but its never the life youll want. and its direct conflit with 'never too late to start doing something'

yesterday night for example i opened the 'news' (its more articles full of advertising and soccer than actual news) tab on my phone and there was one like 'tips from CEO who retired at 44!' and it w

boiled down to, quote 'having life planned to the microscopic detail by the time she was 20' (im 27 this year, fucking come on) studied hard, worked hard for the first youthful years, made it to portugal microsoft ceo(?) and amassed enough to retire early.

it was mentioned she lost her parents early (at 50yos, but how old was she then?) that helped push her to plan it like this but like. well first of all i guess im still too bright eyed because i dont believe this ceo thing possible without loosing morals/ideals along the way (ive yet to met a ceo thats not incredibly out of touch and wants to fuck over everyone and everything for their own gain), but i find it harder to believe there was no silver spoon, especially for those first years. granted if shes 44 now she probably had an easier economy then, but hm. millions work hard from the moment theyre born, how come they don't retire at 44?

the investments. there it was. 'oh i invested in real estate and other small things' thats not hard work, thats gambling. and thats the exact moral loss i expected, the way real estate in portugal is now. and god this pisses me off so much what the FUCK does 'invest in real estate' EVEN MEAN?? you want me to buy stocks off some company?? you want me to buy a house and become a landlord?? i dont even have a place for myself, much less for the tourists and digital nomads. and for every one person saying they got rich off investing, oh you gotta invest smart etc theres 10 currently trying and bleeding money and about 30 that already gave up on it. like it genuinely feels like any other get rich quick scheme where its disheartening that it worked for a couple people and those couple people already had money to begin with

idk if any if this is gonna make sense im writing from heart and whatever the text leads but you understand this right. like my current goal is to just find something later on that will pay decent, not make me slowly but steadily give up on it and have personal time for hobbies. and then i get this shit thrown at me. in 4 months ive been broken down enough that the ridiculous honey pot that is 'invest! stocks! etc!' is starting to appeal to me. like i am not going to be different from the other failure cases im not one lottery away from being set for life. and at the very least im not putting money in the machine selling 40m2 studio apartments for 1 million euros to foreigners while throwing people in the streets if they had houses, jail if they were illegally occupying abandoned houses with no roof. fuck sakes

[alekx]

I Would Go Back

It’s been a little over three weeks since getting back from a trip to the United States with my family. We spent time with relatives, watched my younger sister get married, and visited other towns and cities. The visa application process was challenging, so was mustering up the courage to ask to take time off work, and finally spending an extended amount of time in foreign surroundings with family. But in many ways it, too, was worth it.

I have so far gotten through most of the pasalubong, given them away and shared to the people I returned to. I have unpacked (though the laundry refuses let me see the bottom of the bin, it seems). I have slept -- or at least tried to -- the jet lag away. I have somewhat fallen back into the rhythm of work. Yet, on quiet moments, I still find myself, in my mind’s eye, in the places we visited and in the company of the people we were with.

I’m still watching the fishes in Tito A’s fish tank, watching the leaves sway from the second floor window of his house with my sister’s two cats, and sweating under the Houston sun in a beautiful garden while teary-eyed as I watch two people exchange vows. I'm still in a bungalow with the orange door, figuring out which of my cousins own what room and committing to memory the things I like about their common bathroom (the soap, the shower curtains, the tiles). I’m still looking with wonder at the blue of Lake Michigan with my friend Div, walking along the artsy streets of the West Village, contemplating over paintings at the National Gallery I never thought I’d see with my actual two eyes, driving back from the zoo with Marie, falling along a long line at Trader Joe’s to buy mango juice, and sitting beside an older lady from Illinois who said I reminded her of her daughter who passed away much too young. I am still helping her figure out the controls of the in-flight entertainment so she could watch a movie on our layover from Taiwan and she hasn’t been to the Philippines since 2017. Last week, I wore a shirt that still smelled like the detergent my dad used with the hotel washers during designated laundry days. I knew that after that moment that scent would be gone, so I spent a few seconds inhaling it one last time from the inner collar. Inside my jewelry drawer, I have a pin of The Bean, a memento from my time in Chicago and my insistence to see this landmark and visit Grant Park. I’m currently hiding a bag of dark chocolate-covered gojis and raspberries my mom’s cousin bought at a grocery store for us. I pick two or three pieces everyday with glee and loss at the same time. I am here, but in some ways I am also still there.

I’d be honest that when we returned home, I didn’t think that I would want to go back so soon. I have things in Manila that I wanted, needed, to sort out so urgently moving forward with my life. And yet here we are, finding myself in quiet moments staring at the white of my walls and clinging to as much as I can remember, repainting and replaying the images in my mind over and over again.

I awoke at 2am yesterday… morning? evening? I never know what to call it, that time after 12 that is neither day nor night. For some reason, I was reminded to look up online the collections of the museums and galleries I went to during my time abroad. Google Arts & Culture didn't have works from the Menil Collection, but I was happy to find their website with the ones we weren't allowed to photograph during our visit. They have an interesting collection from the Surrealists. I would go back to walking along Montrose again. Or Evanston. Or along Avenue of the Americas after a late dinner while shivering in the cold of New York that is unfamiliar to tropical-born tourists like me. I would go back. I don’t know when, but I would.

[samwisesaysstuff]

just a rant:

sometimes i’ll hear an old russian song, catch a clip of a soviet cartoon, or smell a whiff of borscht, and suddenly feel very small. The country i’ve lived in for fourteen years of my (still relatively young) life feels like a foreign land. The language i think in is suddenly unfamiliar. I grow acutely aware of the fact that i am an ocean away from where i took my first breath and first step.

My maternal grandmother, with her warm hands over mine, teaching me how to draw. My mother’s brother, with his guitar covered walls, ashtrays, black cat, and endless kinder toys that he’d pretend to pull out of our ears to make us laugh. My kindergarten, my bottom bunk, my brown dora the explorer winter coat, sent from overseas. My then massive, now tiny yellow shovel that i’d play with in the snow. Good God - the snow. I’ve never seen such an enamoring winter wonderland as I did at six years old in Moscow. And i’ll never feel a warmer summer as i did then.

How can you miss something which your memory barely touched this much? How is it that everything that, in my American classrooms made me feel like bear in the jungle, now feels like a home i could never return to? I miss the chalk on the sidewalk outside our kitchen window. I miss the piano teacher that brought me фасоль to teach me quarter notes. I miss holding grandma’s hand on our way to the park. If you can believe it, I even miss the copy-paste sky high apartment complexes that littered every russian city. I miss the little петушок на палочке which will never taste the same again even if i somehow managed to find one in California. I miss feeling small, yet taken care of and safe.

I will never sit at that kitchen table again, and my brother will never be 12 and kindhearted like he was. My parents will never be young and full of hope the way they were. I could go back, but i would be a tourist and nothing would be the way that it was.

There’s a part of me that wishes I could run through that airport and stop us just as we’re boarding the plane. I’d look my parents in the face, not yet touched by gray hair or perpetual bitterness, tell them they’re making their life’s mistake and drag them back if i had to: suitcases in hand, to the safety of our one bedroom apartment. Where things could never get any better but at least they wouldn’t get worse.

The next time i dream something big and watch it fall apart in front of me, i’ll think of my parents’ hopes for America and i’ll thank whatever God is out there for my failure. And then I’d curse him again, for letting good people marinate in bitterness and half-regret half-stupid hope, idly watching them turn into whatever we are now.

[lololollywrites]

OH. MY. GOD. Do NOT buy anything from limitlesswalls.com. It’s an “art” website. I was looking to fill some empty space on my wall, and since I lived in Vietnam for two years I thought some artwork inspired by the scenery or culture would be nice. 

I was already jaded because a few of the cityscape images I’d found on this particular website (I’d first searched for NYC, where I live now) were labeled “AI-generated”, and I will never, ever purchase something produced by AI. It’s sad - I’ve never before come across AI content on a website that claims to offer professional artwork and photographs. I was just about to click away when, on a whim, I decided to enter “Vietnam” as the search term and “illustrations” to see if any actual artists would be represented.

LOOK AT THIS SHIT. Napalm Girl??? This is a Sims-style, surely AI-generated, fucking insulting mockery of the original photograph from the Vietnam War depicting a very real, very traumatized little girl whose clothes had been burned away during a brutal napalm attack. She added a human face to the as-then-unknown “enemy”, surviving the ordeal and eventually becoming a UNESCO Goodwill ambassador. Her name is Phan Thi Kim Phúc, and she now lives in Canada. She’s only 60. This was NOT a long time ago.

AND THIS WEBSITE IS TRYING TO SELL THIS MONSTROSITY FOR PROFIT. I don’t imagine anyone ever buying it, obviously, but I am just so confused and horrified. The other AI “artwork” was at least visually appealing; my complaint was on principle alone. BUT THIS??? Is this website not run by humans? Even if it’s automatically adding results, who the fuck originally inputted this prompt to the image generator?? WHAT THE FUCK??

Excuse my outrage. I am not Vietnamese. I do not want to come across as one of those annoying Americans who goes on one trip and acts as though they know everything there is to know about that country. I don’t. Not at all. I’d LOVE for people from Vietnam to add their own input. I sincerely hope I’m not overreacting. I lived in Hanoi from 2019-2021, the former enemy of South Vietnam and of the United States. I’m going back next month because I made so many Vietnamese (and foreigner) friends and desperately miss almost everything about it. I went to the War Museum both there and in Saigon/HCM City and sat with war veterans from both sides who were visiting on a routine pilgrimage, some of whom explained the horrifying photos on the wall to me. Actual photographs, of course; not grotesque parodies.

At various points during the two years I spent in Hanoi and my various trips around the country, I spoke with Vietnamese survivors of the War. I cried over lunch as a tour guide in Hội An told me how he lost his aunt and uncle, lived below ground to escape bombings as a child, and how his son was born with cerebral palsy as a result of the lingering effects of Agent Orange. He smiled at me and said he was grateful that Vietnamese people and Americans could be friends now. He thanked me for coming on his tour. It was the Summer of 2020, during Covid, so the borders were closed; the only tourists were teachers and Vietnamese citizens, and he desperately missed sharing his culture. It had been two months since there’d been a visitor. It was just me and him that day. We still message on Instagram. It’s worth noting that I stayed in Vietnam during Covid because it was much, much safer there than it was back in the U.S. People cared about the safety of the larger community, so they therefore followed mask mandates and lockdown orders. Meaning lockdown was much, much shorter and was much more effective. Who knew? Anyway.

I once hugged a woman, the owner of one of the many hostels I stayed in on vacation, who spent a large portion of her childhood living in caves in Ha Long Bay; caves were the only safe place she and her family could retreat from airstrikes. She lost her father and uncles during the War. I did my best to educate myself and to apologize for the horrible influence of my country’s leaders at the time, despite her assurance that she and everyone else she knew saw the War as a government issue and not one to do with the people. I constantly wrestled with my right to be in Vietnam at all, let alone to teach at the school that employed me. I asked my students to teach me as much as I taught them. I came back home to the United States and did my best to discuss the truth about Vietnam at every turn; to dispel every stereotype American friends and family members may have had - because that’s the least I could do. I’ve done the same for China and Indonesia, where I also spent two years in total, but Vietnam holds an even more special place in my heart.

So seeing this has angered me so much. Not just for Phan Thi Kim Phúc and all other victims and survivors of the Vietnam War, but for real HUMAN artists and photographers. If this is part of the early impact of AI, I want absolutely nothing to do with it.

[more-than-a-princess]

That was the difference: one among many, at least. Despite the two of them adhering to the Monte Carlo's dress code, Shirou seemed to merely use it as camouflage. It took someone who was so accustomed to watching others spend half a million Euro in the span of an evening as if it were nothing, someone who had family and friends alike whom, instead of simply touching up chipped paint or reupholstering a car after spilling a bottle of forty year old wine in the backseat, they went out and bought a new one.

Sonia hated seeing it, the bragging and bravado of what the most elite families in the world could buy and achieve. But it was her norm, and thus unlike him she could hold her head high and shoulders back and appear as if she belonged. Because she did: for all the time she spent in Shirou's world, the Emiya household and the kindhearted people who came to visit, he was now firmly ensconced in hers for the rest of the evening, at the very least. Where the people, and the drinks, were often much colder. With a bite to them, something that could come as a surprise if one wasn't careful.

At least he'd chosen one of the bars far away from the high-roller games. With plenty of empty seats, Sonia had chosen one easily that would ensure a quiet, private conversation. That part of the Monte Carlo was mostly preoccupied by the daytime tourists, who visited only to spend a few euros on a cocktail and one round of blackjack, just to say they had. At night, all the attention and activity flocked to the high stakes tables in other areas of the casino, leaving their refuge to be just that. Surely, Sonia thought, he'd scoped it out and understood the situation: all, however, except one factor of it.

"You misunderstand me, Shirou," Sonia gave him a smirk before taking a quick glance at the leather-bound menu. Perhaps even now he still likened her to the seventeen year old foreign student enthralled by discount day at the supermarket (to be fair, some of the aggressive housewives' behavior rivaled the Novoselic national rugby team, particularly when a most coveted product was down to its last few packages). "I said I did not wish for additional champagne or wine, but I did not say I wished to refrain from alcohol altogether." She caught the gaze of the sole bartender on staff, nodding for her to approach. "I would like a manhattan, please."

She waited until the bartender had taken Shirou's order as well, disappearing down to the opposite side of the bar to prepare their order. "Someone with a big ego and no substance, you say? " She asked, eyebrows raised. She didn't want to admit it but she knew far too many people nowadays who fit that description. As soon as she'd become an adult it seemed, the proverbial wool had been removed from over her eyes. "I am intrigued, if you would like to explain in further detail. I do not know if my work overlaps much with your own, but such a description is one I am familiar with."

What her vague recollection could tell her was that Rin, with Shirou in tow, had left Japan behind in favor of England, for the former to study magecraft in a dedicated curriculum with the latter to assist her. It was Rin and Hilda who had filled in some of the blanks: Rin would send handwritten letters (email, it seemed, was not her forte) about her classes, as much as she could say to someone entirely devoid of magecraft anyway, and the students within them. It had been to Sonia's great amusement and surprise later on that the peer who vexed Rin Tohsaka the most was Hilda's elder twin sister, her close friend from In Utero explaining in some additional detail about the prestige of the Edelfelt family. Something that Sonia and everyone else had been kept blissfully unaware: Hilda, in Sonia's opinion, wanted to make her own way in the world (arranged marriage notwithstanding).

That was the extent of what Sonia knew of Shirou Emiya between his departure from Japan and his unexpected arrival in the Maldives, alongside his covert jobs, his radical change in appearance, and the fact he'd asked her a question with enough silence to follow that it was noticeable that her mind was otherwise distracted with trying to figure him out. "I always have a good time with you, Shirou," Sonia blurted out the first thing she could think of, something that happened to be true and coincided with the delivery of her cocktail and an amused smile from the bartender. Shit, she must look like such a fool, though the rye whiskey would likely prove itself to be a balm to heal the wound to her dignity. "Even when you express how strange you find my hobbies or how repulsive you find my cooking. It has been some years since we have spent time together like this, but that has not changed."

 A sip of the drink and she began to calm again. Expertly made and smooth, she let the warmth of the whiskey and vermouth settle in her belly as he proposed the idea of breaking several royal rules in order to spirit her away from her duties in order to gain just a bit of privacy, the most luxurious component of any royal household. His smile was enough to say that such a task was easier said than done: there were people who devoted their lives to looking after the future Queen of Novoselic, whether that entailed she was well-versed in the family life and hobbies of every noble and politician she met or that for every meal she was invited to, it was entirely free of plums. Oh, and of course the expected tasks of keeping her alive, unharmed, and thirteen minutes early to every appointment in her diary.

Sonia smiled in return. It was easy to do so around him: she knew now how to make even the most forced smile look real, natural and welcoming, but she didn't need to draw it out with him. It simply happened: when he joked with her, when he added a piece of information to his mysterious past, when she saw a trace of the boy she'd once fancied beneath all that he'd experienced since he'd left Japan. "It would indeed create plenty of stories for the press to feast upon and for the Royal Family to fret over," She agreed, though by her tone she didn't consider either to be a detriment.  "Perhaps ideal for those looking for a film in order to escape their own lives and into ours. But since it is your suggestion: elaborate. Paint me a verbal portrait, Shirou, of precisely how you plan to kidnap me and where you plan to take me, and in turn I shall tell you if that is a film I would be interested in seeing." It was her turn to grin, sipping at her cocktail with a coy expression. He had learned the art of the tease since they'd parted years ago, but then again, so had she.

The area upstairs was mostly how his information had described, the golden accents through the hallways making the entire location glister like gold yet it was different than the ground floor. Once you pass the Salle Renaissance, the area open to the public for free completely beset with slot machines and make your way into the Salon Europe for more exciting bets under the gilded ceilings and gaining the access to the private rooms for bets without a limit – like the glamorous Salle Europe and its bar are the most iconic sights of the location, the epitome of glamor and wealth that is often associated with the famous secret agent. Yet the Salle Blanche and its Lounge bar is even more exclusive, its Belle Époque ambiance is a privilege of even fewer. Going to one of the “lesser” rooms was actually a breath of fresh air, even if he would still fear for his wallet. Shirou has no idea for how long his fake cardholder will be able to deceive the staff, so as long he has the right attitude and doesn’t cause trouble it is very likely that he would be left alone. Picking up the champagne belonging to someone else was a bold move, yet whoever can splurge on a Dom Pérignon while tucked away in one of the private areas and spending 45k euros per night at the hotel across the street could certainly spare a sip – that would be pocket money for some of the patrons. Some patrons like Sonia. Except that Shirou didn’t feel bad in the slightest in this case. He sat by the bar of one of the lesser-celebrated areas and soon could hear footsteps approaching, the glass resting in front of him for a moment.

❝ You give me too much credit. It was merely a skill I had to develop, I think you can relate. ❞ with his own limited talents and magecraft he had to make do with being creative at moments. Learning how to deceive and say what people want to hear or acting how he should to get the most of the situation could make the difference between life or death at times. ❝ Although I’d admit I got inspired by someone whom I met before. Big ego, no substance. ❞ when he was younger Emiya would try to see the best in people – and even to this day he would like to believe that people are more multifaceted than others give each other credit for …He just wasn’t willing to wait for the better side of individuals to show up and risk getting screwed over, the wanderer have been burned many times before. ❝ I also would rather not to consume alcohol if possible for entirely different reasons than yours. ❞ as in: he would rather not make many waves and leave a footprint. And being under the influence if he had to jump into action would be very bad.

❝ Where were we ? The debate about how princesses and spies are overrated and yet underrated ? Hopefully right now you are having a marginally better time than engaging with some boorish older man patronizing you or filling in the paperwork. I do sympathize with the former, that was how I picked these skills that impressed you a few moments ago.  ❞ he took a sip from his glass. Mages from old traditional families tend to look down those without tradition, even if technically speaking Shirou was the 6th head of the Emiya family that was rising to prominence by the time of Kiritsugu’s father — except that a man with a seal designation that caused a massive tragedy and a Magus Killer weren’t exactly upstanding members of the Mage’s Association and Shirou had no interest in restoring the reputation or even starting a magic crest.  That was why among magi he would be looked down upon and outside that particular group all he had was his own reputation as a mercenary. In short, he had no influence and had to make do with whatever he could.

❝ If you are ever in need of disappearing to have some privacy and blending in with a crowd, let me know and I’ll try to arrange it for you. ❞ the smile concealed his intentions, it was almost a Schrodinger cat-like statement: if she took that as a joke, it would be fine, yet if she honestly considered the prospect Shirou would keep his word. Still, Sonia Nevermind would never hide without properly consulting her secretary, scheduling and making proper arrangements and do everything following the protocol with pomp and circumstances. A small dismissal of his hand, adding with a joke ❝ Maybe the secret spy should kidnap the princess, that sounds the recipe for a summer blockbuster wouldn’t you agree ? It would drive the press absolutely crazy. ❞ from everything that Sonia had told him it would also have the queen vexed and irate, the perfect opportunity if his friend was the rebellious type. ❝ Jokes aside, is there anything I can do to assist you ? ❞

[mythicamagic]

Snake Charmer: Sesskag fic

Summary: Sesshoumaru is extremely amused by the prey currently trapped in his den. Kagome just wanted a vacation. Naga Sesshoumaru fic. Sesskag AU.

Rated M

Read on Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

AN: Sooo I might make a series of stories featuring Monster! Sess or Monster! Kagome. I've already written a vampire one and a werewolf one. Shall see! I hope you enjoy this. 

Snake Charmer pt. 1

Impossibly blue skies free from clouds stretched out above her head that bright and cheerful morning. It was hot. Uncomfortably so, but Kagome welcomed it despite the sweat beading at the back of her neck. Clad in a two-piece bikini hidden by her cute blue summer dress, the cotton thankfully thin and breezy, she drank in the sunny scenery greedily.

Hawaii sprawled out, with its rolling hills, high cliffs and exotic greenery. True, it was a little tourist-centric where they were staying, but the Japanese college students could hardly complain.

"I'm so excited for cliff diving~" Eri grinned, practically buzzing as they walked down a road beside the ocean. "Kyle said he'd meet us there, right? Do you think he'd be more attracted to a confident girl, or should I pretend to be scared?"

Yuka rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her bag over one shoulder. "From the way you were flirting last night at the hotel, I don't think he'll care either way."

"Maybe just fake a dizzy spell so he can catch you in his big strong arms~" Ayumi giggled.

"And what about you? I'm sure his friend will be there."

"Oh, don't get my hopes up!"

The three laughed, noticing their friend's silence once the girlish giggles died down.

"What's wrong, Kagome?" brows knitted with concern, Ayumi gently tapped her shoulder.

Shaken from her reverie, Kagome dragged her distracted gaze away from the ocean. "Hm? Oh… nothing," she smiled. "I was just thinking about what that man tried to say to us."

"You mean the Native we saw earlier?" Yuka arched a brow. "Forget it, none of us know Hawaiian and when he switched to English it was a lost cause. None of us can string a sentence together."

"It's true, I forget most of mine when we left school," Ayumi sighed mournfully.

"I flunked English," Eri smirked.

Shaking her head, Kagome folded her arms and frowned, "maybe so, but I could pick out a few of his words. 'Water' and 'no' with some kind of motion with his hands. He approached us while Kyle was talking to us about the cliff diving location with that map. Maybe it's a dangerous area, and the man was trying to warn us?"

"If it was a warning, Kyle would have told us. He said it was fine, just that we should be wary of any rocks, but he knows the area. It's standard stuff," waving this off, Eri quickened her pace, heels clanking on the hot road.

"He knows the area better than a guy who lives here?" Kagome drawled, sharing a glance with Ayumi. Her more sensitive friend bit her lip, giving a weak shrug.

"Let's at least check it out," she said, adding more under her breath; "Eri is really excited. We can humour her a little by meeting with Kyle again today. None of us has to jump."

Releasing a breath, Kagome set her concerns aside for now. It wasn't like she wanted to be a wet blanket about it. Still, the man's wide, imploring brown eyes continued to nag at her mind. Such an expression could bridge the gap in communication. She'd practically felt his concern.

---

Kyle was a tanned, brown-haired boy travelling around the world. He struck Kagome as the adrenalin junkie type. Eri fawned over him, positively smitten. It was rare for a foreigner from London to be so well versed in Japanese, and they'd met through an online dating site, organising a get together while he was in Hawaii. Thus Kagome and the others had been dragged along. Kyle was practically their tour guide and means of verbal communication with English speakers.

His friends were less fluent in Japanese. The three shirtless blonde-haired young men flustered both Yuka and Ayumi, talking in broken sentences.

Kagome couldn't say she minded the male attention as they walked together to the cliffs. Obviously, they weren't up for anything permanent, just fooling around. Kagome had indulged in that sort of thing before. Unfortunately, it was quickly becoming boring. Men just couldn't get a clue. Whether it was a long-term boyfriend or a one-night stand, a playboy or attentive virgin, she found her experiences frustrating on a level she couldn't quite understand. It was lacklustre.

Perhaps today would be different. It would've been nice to hang out with Kyle's friends and get to know them if she could just rid herself of the man's warning.

"This is the spot," Kyle grinned, showing his dimples.

The group had stopped atop a cliff with a few trees littered near the edge. Yuka peered over the lip of the side, holding onto a branch.

"Wow, that's uh… quite a drop."

Kyle rolled his shoulder, muscles coiling. "It looks worse than it is. So! Who's going first?" he grinned wider, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

Eri laughed nervously, hugging his arm, "shouldn't you go, oh fearless leader?"

"I believe in ladies first," sea-foam blue eyes strayed to Kagome, who remained a little uncomfortable.

"What about your friend?"

"Ah- she's a little afraid. I don't think she'll be jumping," Eri dismissed.

"Aww c'mon," Kyle broke away from her to gesture to Kagome, inviting her closer. "At least take a look. No point in walkin' all the way here and not seeing the view at least."

"I can see it fine from here," Kagome gave a smile that showed her teeth. "Thanks anyway."

"Kagome."

Judging from her friend's expressions, they clearly wanted her to act more respectful.

Biting back a sigh, Kagome forced a more amiable smile upon her lips and stepped closer to the edge, peering down.

To Kyle's credit, it was a stunning view. She'd never seen water so crystal clear and blue. She couldn't tell how deep it plunged, but the waves rolled pure white, not a blemish in sight. No deadly rocks either.

What had the man been warning us about?

"What do ya think?" a playful voice rasped close to her ear. Kagome felt the heat of his body draw near.

Her lips pursed, "it's beautiful," she allowed. Maybe she was being too much of a stick in the mud, it wasn't like her.

"Then- why not take a closer look?"

Hands shoved.

Blue eyes flew wide as Kagome felt her body careen forward, hair swooping back. Letting out a fearful scream, Kagome felt her feet drag and fly free from solid earth. Gravity pulled her down.

Falling was surreal, disorientating. She'd pretty much left her stomach back with her friends it lept so violently. She couldn't tell up from down, but the ocean swooped in closer and closer.

Instinctively, Kagome sucked in a huge breath.

Making impact with warm waters, she plunged deep beneath the surface, bubbles obscuring her vision.

Almost immediately, still, serene waters swirled into motion.

Kagome's heart thundered with alarm, bracing herself. She mindlessly kicked her legs out of instinct the second something started pulling her downwards. Trying hard to break away from the current, her efforts proved to be in vain as it swept her up like a whirlpool.

Kagome closed her eyes. It became impossible to know where she was, how far the surface lay beyond her reach. Her lungs strained.

Getting desperate, Kagome abandoned all logic and started to swim with the current rather than fight it. If she was going to die, she'd rather it be while doing something. Staying motionless didn't suit her.

Aching lungs grappled for air, and Kagome felt herself weaken. Desperate motions slowed. Her mind hazed with fog, becoming dizzy.

Gradually, she began to resemble a motionless rag-doll.

Something strong and sturdy wrapped around her waist, pulling her body.

Kagome weakly felt the sensation of being yanked. Shadows entered her murky gaze like she'd passed through a tunnel, lights soon reaching her again. And then she was suddenly flicked up and released.

Gasping the second her head broke free from salty waters, she sucked in sharp breaths and coughing violently. Kagome then promptly collapsed.

She blearily noticed the dim lighting and smooth rock she found herself splayed upon, shuddering. I almost died.

It took a few moments to adjust and control her breathing, but eventually, after laying there and recovering from the experience, Kagome shakily roused herself enough to sit up. Looking around, she found a cavern of sorts awaiting her. The layout was spacious. Rock walls sprawled around her, a single circular opening high above in the ceiling allowing a circle of concentrated sunlight to pour down into the ocean pool she'd surfaced in.

Kagome pulled herself onto a rocky platform, following a walkway around the water and leaving wet footprints on cool stone in her wake. Thick shadows lay beyond the opposite side of the pool, with a multitude of paths in the rock-face branching off in different directions. They looked as though they'd been hollowed out by a huge earthworm. Kagome wagered they were a maze of sorts.

No way am I going in there.

Glancing up at the natural skylight, Kagome bit her lip. Such smooth rock would be too steep and slippy to climb, and she doubted a helicopter passing overhead could spot her inside. She wasn't even sure how far she was from the mainland. Silence reigned within the lonely cavern, save for lapping water within the glittering pool. She couldn't hear any tourists or speedboats outside.

Kagome swallowed.

The pool.

She didn't exactly like the idea of chancing another swim. However, diving in again to reach the open ocean could be her only chance of finding help.

Putting it off for now, Kagome wandered around the edge of the pool, rubbing her arms absentmindedly. She felt shaken from the high fall alone, never mind nearly dying from a random whirlpool.

"That's what that man was trying to warn us about," she mused to herself, glancing at the water. "I hope Kyle doesn't push anyone else in. That bastard!" she seethed. She'd always been a strong swimmer, but if he had pushed in Ayumi, even with regular waters, the situation could've been dangerous. The idea of it only pissed her off even more. "When I get outta here, I'm giving him a piece of my mind. I bet he'll say - 'ohh it was just a joke.' Ha! You can tell that to my fist, buddy!"

A shadow moved to her left.

Kagome jumped, snapping her gaze to it. Sweat pricked at the back of her neck.

"H-hello?"

Nothing.

Well, it had been out of her peripheral vision. What a convenient time for her mind to start playing tricks on her.

Taking a deep breath, Kagome let the air whoosh out of her lungs. "And now I'm seeing things," she rambled, grasping her hair and wringing out excess salty water. "That's not unusual though, heck I think I see things passing by in the kitchen all the time. Totally nor- AH!" Kagome started badly, looking directly at the shadows. A sleek, long thing swept out into bright sunlight across the floor before retreating smoothly. It had been pale, covered in a sheen that resembled scales.

Was that a… tail?

Kagome took one step back. Then another. Whatever it was, it had been quite large.

She didn't want any of that. None.

Pivoting sharply, Kagome hurried directly towards the pool. Climbing down a rocky incline, she bent her legs, muscles coiling and springing free as she leapt, body arching into a dive.

She made it into warm waters, kicking her legs madly. Gliding down from rippling surface to murky bottom of the pool, Kagome swam towards an opening in the rock wall. Something large and solid slid beneath her stomach then- closing around her waist and yanking.

Kagome's mouth opened in a gasp- pulled from the water with a hard tug. She coughed the second she surfaced, spitting out saltwater and holding onto the thing wrapped around her waist.

The tail.

Kagome's eyes widened, squirming and trying to get free as water dripped from her body, watching the pool drift further away as she ascended. The white scales felt smooth, warm beneath her touch.

Gritting her teeth, Kagome tried to dig her nails in, only to find them repelled by deceptively firm coils.

"You do not possess claws nor fangs sharp enough to cut through my hide, little human."

Kagome jolted, whipping her head up.

Half-lidded, piercing golden-yellow eyes stared back.

She gaped.

Slit pupils dilated.

The man observing her with a wry smile possessed beautifully ethereal features. Pointed ears, exotic magenta marks slashing across his pale cheeks. A silver fall of long hair spilt down over broad shoulders, hanging off the high rock he lounged upon that overlooked the pool. He'd propped both elbows on his bent tail, resting a strong chin upon one hand. The tips of his fingers resembled long, frighteningly sharp claws. Kagome blinked, trying to make sense of his form. His head and torso resembled a human male- physique impressive. From the waist down, however, an impossibly long snake tail sprawled out. She wasn't sure how vast it spread, a little preoccupied.

"Listen pal, I don't know what stage play I've stumbled across, but great effects. Top-notch. The puppet feels really lifelike," she minded some slick hair from her face. "The contacts are hot too, but I'd really like to be set down now."

"Would you?" he purred silkily, tail twisting to flip her upside down. Kagome gasped as black hair cascaded in front of her face, hanging towards the distant pool. "Unfortunately, this one has no interest in releasing you. It has been some time since prey has willingly stumbled into my den like a lost filly."

Kagome's mind raced. Prey. Shit.

"I-I didn't stumble in. The whirlpool-"

"Ah, yes," he hummed, rising from his perch languidly. His form moved smoothly, top half easing closer without fear of toppling from the rock his larger half wrapped around.

"Hn… few mortals are foolish enough to jump from that cliff at noon."

"I was pushed," Kagome seethed, bristling as he prodded and turned her like prized meat hanging off a hook. "Hey! Watch it!" She swiped an arm out, cheeks flushing. "Put me down this instant!"

The Snake-man tilted his head, "curious that of all people, my prey this time happens to be a woman from my homeland."

Kagome had been too startled to really think about it, but they were indeed conversing in Japanese.

"So you're a Japanese demon, huh?" she squeaked. "Awesome. We can talk more about that when the blood isn't rushing to my head. Put. Me. Down," a growl hissed free from her teeth.

His lips spread into a half-smirk, half sneer, exposing sharp, glistening fangs. He turned her upright once more, only to coil more segments of his strong, pale tail around her. A part of it twisted and slid around her knees, parting them.

Something twinged between her legs- a bead of sweat, hot and salty where it rolled down her thigh in a lazy trickle.

Kagome's eyes widened as the moving tail constricted beneath her chest, restricting the use of her arms and squeezing the air from her lungs like he'd trapped her within a huge fist.

His body loomed close, face hovering near. His touch felt oddly human upon her chin: grip as firm as any other arrogant male's.

"The harder you struggle, the tighter my grip," he uttered, gaze and voice almost gentle in their rich cadence.

Kagome fought to keep her breathing even, becoming still. He seemed intelligent and well spoken. If that was the case, talking her way out of the situation might be her best bet.

"For the record, I'm Kagome," she said, trying not to tremble. "W-what's your name, Mr Snake man?"

Ivory lashes fell shut and swept open in a slow blink. His lips parted, hesitating, as though out of practice with speaking it aloud.

"Sesshoumaru."

The Killing Perfection.

It sounded like a bad omen.

Kagome swallowed and kept blabbing. "Oh, that's cool. Your parents must've been anticipating a nice blood thirsty baby. I'm sure they're very proud."

His expression darkened, and Kagome quickly shut up. Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say.

Sesshoumaru tipped his head to the side, breath fanning over her ear. "For the record," he uttered, archaic speech clearly unfamiliar with the term but imitating her, "my kind are not referred to as 'Snake Men.' I am a species of Naga."

"I-I see, sorry for using the wrong term," Kagome jolted as something flicked out close to her ear, nearly brushing the shell.

His tongue. Was he tasting the air?

Sesshoumaru made a low, pleasurable noise in his chest.

"You know… unless you're into playing with your food, maybe there's a reason you haven't eaten me yet," Kagome was ever the optimist.

"Pray tell: what would that reason be?" he asked, nose brushing and gliding into her hair. She felt his body roll as he inhaled deeply, having a ripple effect down his entire tail.

Kagome shivered. Oddly, the heat of him wrapped around her sent thrills racing up her spine due to every movement being intimately felt. The anticipation, fear and adrenaline mixed into a cocktail of absurdity. She felt its effects pour liquid heat into her lower abdomen.

"You want someone to talk to. Even people called 'The Killing Perfection' can get lonely. A-am I right in thinking you're the one who pulled me from the water?"

"Indeed."

Though she knew it wasn't out of any concern for her, Kagome nonetheless felt a stab of gratitude. "Thank you for that, I mean it. You're terrifying but much preferable to drowning."

Golden eyes danced. "Your compliments leave much to be desired."

Kagome's lips twitched. "Do you see what I mean, though? Maybe you just want a delightful conversationalist."

"Hn, perhaps," Sesshoumaru adjusted her, so that she loomed above him, his head dangerously close to her chest, "or perhaps I do just enjoy playing with my food."

Kagome jolted and gasped as a regal nose glided up the valley between her breasts, lips skimming, a teasing drag. She tried to squeeze her thighs together- prevented by a segment of his tail that rose and undulated slowly against her core, rubbing. Shamefully, Kagome moaned. Her wet dress, plastered to her form- pitifully could not hide the hard peaks of her nipples as her body heated.

"You respond quite enthusiastically to me, woman," Sesshoumaru purred, tongue flicking out to lick a long, wet arch up her chest, collarbone and neck. "Have you considered...you might enjoy my 'playing' with you?"

Panting, she quickly stopped her squirming hips. "L-let's talk about this," she swallowed, catching her breath. "We could make a game out of it. A real one."

Thankfully, his tail stopped.

"I am listening."

Okay, keep talking Kagome. She shifted, looking at the glittering slashes of magenta cutting over his tail like stripes. It was safer than getting distracted by his enchanting eyes.

"Is there a way out of here other than the pool?"

His silky voice caressed her hearing. "Yes."

"T-then let me run for 15 minutes. If I find the exit- you let me go. If you catch me, then fair enough, I'm yours to eat or... or whatever," Kagome muttered, cheeks heating. "But I can and will defend myself during the run."

Sesshoumaru's claw-tipped fingers grasped her chin, turning her face back to look at him.

His eyes were hypnotic in their richness of colour. Slit, inhuman pupils only drew her in instead of repelling. They smiled even as his lips remained still.

"Nothing would please me more," he purred, free hand gliding down her stomach, making it twitch. "You possess a silver tongue, girl. I have not met a prey that could hold a conversation before."

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself- when you're not talking about eating me."

Chuckling with rich tones, the Naga loosened his tail, unwinding it so that she slid over his coils down to the walkway next to the pool.

Standing on her own two feet again, Kagome righted herself, glancing up at the looming Naga.

"Run along, little filly," he uttered languidly. His soft, masculine voice oddly put her at ease even as she prepared to run for her life. Perhaps this was how he lulled prey. Kagome chose not to examine why she'd responded so... favourably to him. It was the humidity. The adrenaline.

Kagome headed for a tunnel, realising half-way her mistake. It was pitch black inside, and she had no light.

Almost as immediately as she'd stepped inside- green flames flickered to life upon the walls. Torches lit her way, scattered further ahead.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath, bursting into a run.

[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - First Impressions

Alas! The first Chishiya-shot! I’m sorry it took so long to write this. Life just kept getting in the way. 

Something to note is that previously, I avoided giving the MC a name so it could be a self-insert or an OC. But since this is Chishiya’s pov, it’s impossible to avoid. I’ve decided to just use ‘(name)’ whenever it crops up, so you can either self-insert or create a name for her :) 

If you haven’t read ‘And When I am Formulated’, you can find the masterlist on my Tumblr or on AO3 here. 

Speaking of which, this is also on AO3 here. 

Enjoy! 

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

An Iron Box

It was like drifting to the bottom of the ocean. There was nothing down here, just a quiet numbness and a dark pressure that felt so still, so familiar. It was exactly how I liked it. At least, so I thought.

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

The world was filled with death and decay. It was a simple fact of life. And yet, here we were.

The police station was cold and clinical, and I shrugged my hands into my pockets, leaning against the wall as the other players flitted around the hallway like nervous little flies. There was a man with short hair and two women, all of them members of the Beach, but I didn’t know their names. What did it matter? They would probably die here.

I was staring at the floor, barely even listening to the music pounding through my headphones, when I heard the door to the hallway open. A series of hesitant footsteps followed, but it wasn’t until the new player came to stand against the wall opposite that I looked up.

Oh? This is interesting.

She was a foreigner, most likely a tourist who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. How unfortunate. Although her demeanour was casual, her eyes flitted intently between the other players, assessing them.

Ah, I see. You’re not new to this.

I was mildly intrigued as to how she had adapted to her first game, whether she truly knew what was going on, and how many games she had survived thus far. Would she understand the rules, or was she simply lucky?

As a stream of possibilities presented themselves, some of the inherent boredom I felt began to ebb away. Perhaps this game would be different, after all.

I wonder, how long will you last?

Her eyes met mine, and there was curiosity reflected there along with confusion. I could see that she was struggling to place me as friend or foe, so I gave her a little hint and smiled. Her face instantly flushed with indignation. How amusing.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

I didn’t bother taking out my headphones, instead scanning the rules on my phone.

‘GAME – JACK IN THE BOX

DIFFICULTY – EIGHT OF CLUBS

TIME LIMIT – 30 MINUTES.’

It was an Eight of Clubs, a higher number, but the rules were straightforward: find the code to unlock the other group's door, and escape your own room before the time ran out. No doubt there would be some tricks along the way. The gamemasters could be rather entertaining at times.

My eyes shifted to the girl before me. Despite her poker face, there was a slight downward tilt to her mouth. She hadn’t understood the rules, or at least, not all of them.

So, what will you do now?

As there were two doors and five players, whichever group received three people would have the advantage. Out of the other players, the two women refused to split up. It was silly, really. Their childish friendship would only hold them back.

The man with short hair took one look at me and then at the foreign girl, before asking the other two if he could join them. Perhaps I should have been annoyed or affronted, but it made no difference to me. And besides, I was rather interested in seeing how this girl would perform without knowing the rules.

She was staring at me with distrust, perhaps waiting for me to introduce myself so she could gauge me better. But this was a game, and there was no use in introductions. As a test, I asked her, ‘日本語が分かるか.’ Do you understand Japanese?

A little too uncertainly, she replied, ‘すこし分かる.’ I understand a little.

Although she answered immediately, and her pronunciation was fluid, it was the way the words stumbled off her tongue that gave her away. She wasn’t used to speaking the language, even if she spoke it well. And as tempting as it was to reply in fluent, rapid Japanese just to see how she would react, it simply wasn’t practical when it came to improving our chances. Instead, I recalled the English that I had practised so often as a child.

‘Let’s get going then.’

She followed me through the door, and it clicked shut behind us.

‘GAME START.’

It was the observation room to an interrogation chamber. The lights were heavily dimmed and stretched across the wall was a large one-way mirror, behind which were the other players. Sure enough, in the centre of each room was a table with a box resting atop.

But what caught my eye was the toolbox in the corner. Aside from the box on the table, it was the only thing that didn’t belong in an observation room. I glanced at the mirror.

I see.

The hurdle was to communicate with the other players, and it didn’t take long before I connected the dots. The girl was quietly watching the players through the mirror. I waited for her to make a move, to do something other than simply stand there.

Perhaps if I give her a clue as to the rules....

‘Interesting.’ I leant against the table, assessing the inconspicuous little box. ‘It contains the code to their door, and theirs has the code to ours.’

The incredulous look she gave me was very amusing indeed. And when I smiled, she only frowned and turned back to the mirror. Very rude.

‘They can’t see us,’ she said, ‘but we need to find some way to communicate.’

Very perceptive, not to mention proactive. She’d already figured out the first challenge, but as for the solution? It would have been quicker to tell her, but things were far more entertaining this way. After all, she had already started pressing buttons on the control panel beneath the window.

Silly girl.

The gamemasters wouldn’t make it so easy. When she gave up messing with the broken controls, I prompted her a little further. ‘So, what do you suggest?’

I could see her trying her hardest to work it out. The answer was obvious, at least to me, but it took her a few seconds to reach the same conclusion.

‘The lights!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s a one-way mirror, right? So, I’m pretty sure it works because of the difference in lighting. They can’t see us because their room is so bright. Maybe if we could even out the lighting, we could turn the mirror into a window instead?’ She leaned across the control panel, peering into the other room. ‘They could take out the bulbs!’

It was a good idea, but there was one major flaw. ‘Really? And how do you suppose we’d tell them to do that if the microphone doesn’t work?’

The disappointment in her expression was wonderful. It was like watching a ship sink. Even in a life-or-death situation, humans were driven by their emotions. It was all so very predictable.

‘25 MINUTES REMAINING.’

As the announcement rang through the room, the girl looked up and her eyes widened further. ‘Oh god...’ she breathed.

Pulling back my hood, I saw the black tendrils of smoke emerging from the vents above. ‘And I thought this couldn’t get any more interesting.’

They really are having fun with this.

The girl scanned the room, a delightful frenzy in her eyes. However, as fun as it was to watch her struggle, I wasn’t prepared to trust my life to a stranger’s hands, especially if that stranger was overwhelmed by fear and desperation. It was too unreliable. But before I could intervene and suggest a solution, she began marching around the room, rooting through the filing cabinet drawers.

I admit, I was surprised. I’d half-expected her to lose her head and give up. The players in the other room had noticed the smoke too, as they were currently flitting around in a state of panic. My eyes returned to the figure rifling through each drawer beneath the control panel.

But not you.

‘See if you can find a torch,’ she said. ‘If we can’t get them to take the bulbs out, we’ve got to make this room lighter instead.’

So, you finally realised.

‘It’s a good idea. But we can’t waste time looking for something that might not be here.’ I lifted the heavy toolbox from the corner and set it down on the table where the dim light was strongest.

The toolbox contained a vast range of hardware, probably to throw us off. But it also contained exactly the right supplies I needed to build a torch; wire, a lightbulb, insulating tape and batteries. How typical of the gamemasters to supply the smallest possible lightbulb.

‘What do you plan on doing with that?’ the girl asked.

Was she intelligent or simplistic? It had been her suggestion to use a torch, and yet she hadn’t considered the possibility of building one. I didn’t even entertain the idea of answering the question. If she couldn’t figure it out, I wasn’t going to waste my time on it. She didn’t press the issue though, instead busying herself with the box. Pulling off the lid and squinting through the smoke, she took out a slip of paper and tossed the box to the floor.

What’s this?

The box had landed on its side, and from here, I could see a set of numbers printed in black on the bottom.

3598.

Most likely, it was different to the numbers on the paper. But had the girl had noticed, or would she think to question the code she had been given? I smiled to myself.

I’m looking forward to seeing how this turns out.

‘Here.’ The circuit glowed in my palm, the light cutting through the smoke.

‘That’s amazing!’ A strange grin lit up her features, and something inside of me twisted at the sight. How childish and ignorant could a person be to smile so bright in such a critical situation?

I walked over to the mirror, where the others were shrieking and crying on the other side. Upon closer inspection, there was something else I had missed. ‘Their door opens from the outside.’

‘That’s... not fair,’ she replied. 

‘Of course not.’

‘TEN MINUTES REMAINING.’

The girl banged on the glass as I held the torchlight to the surface. Even through the smoke, I could see the other players clambering over each other like idiots. In their desperation, they had forgotten to bring the code from their box, and eventually the man with short hair went back to fetch it, pressing the paper against the mirror.

1657.

I didn’t think much of it, until the girl’s expression changed. She looked surprised, yet sceptical. My gaze dropped to the folded paper in her hand. I knew what it contained even before she confirmed it.

‘It’s the same code,’ she said. ‘How do we know it’s not a trap?’

Of course it would be a trap. The gamemasters were far too unoriginal, and I had already seen the separate numbers written on the box. There were two possibilities here; either the code on the bottom of our box was the real code for the lock on the other players’ door, or the gamemasters had merely presented us with two codes to confuse us, and we had to place a gamble on which one would work.

I shrugged. ‘We’ll just have to find out.’

Holding my sleeve against my mouth and nose, I stifled a cough as I approached the door. The girl was hovering like an insect behind me while I punched in the code. The door opened and the bright, clinical light of the hallway spilled through.  

I managed one step before the girl so rudely shoved past me, coughing up her lungs in the hallway without a shred of grace. I stood in the doorway, holding back a little as she approached the door to the other room.

‘FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.’

She raised her hand over the keypad, and I geared myself up to intervene for the sake of both our survival. But then she took me by surprise once again. Her hand wavered, her gaze fixated on the buttons.  

‘What,’ I said, ‘aren’t you going to do it?’

There was no response at first, and then a whisper. ‘The numbers... on the buttons that are most used, the paint’s faded away. But they’re not the same numbers as the code we were given. It’s a trick.’

I raised a brow.

Smart girl.

Even I hadn’t noticed it. The paint on certain numbers had worn away where the buttons had been pressed so many times. ‘And we only have one chance at getting the code right,’ I said. ‘How clever.’

Suddenly, she threw herself back into the other room, shouting at me to keep the door open. I leant against it, half-considering just leaving her in there and entering the correct code myself, but there was no way of knowing whether the game would clear if there was a player still inside one of the rooms. The rules had been rather vague in that aspect.

‘TWO MINUTES REMAINING.’

Whilst I couldn’t see through the thick smoke, there was a series of bangs and crashes, followed by beams of light as she waved the torch in every direction. Two minutes quickly ticked down to 30 seconds, and just when I was about to abandon my post and clear the game myself, there was a cry from inside.

‘3598!’

A shape burst through the smoke, and I stepped back, narrowly dodging the girl as she threw herself at the other door.

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

Her hands shook as she punched in the code, yanking back the door to reveal a heap of limbs pounding from the other side. They all fell on the ground together, coughing and wheezing like animals.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

In the tangled mess of bodies crawling over one another, there was one missing. One of the women. But that was to be expected. A death here and there was nothing new. I glanced at the other one who was crying into her hands like a child.

Her friend must have suffocated, and yet she made sure to survive. It really is human nature to place yourself above all else.

I didn’t linger to watch. Instead, I simply took the Eight of Clubs card that I came here for and made my way out of the police station. Even though all the Beach members arrived together in a car, the night was cool and fresh, and it was perfect for walking.

And yet I found myself lingering in the shadow of an unlit streetlight. There was something I was still curious about. The foreign girl. She was at a complete disadvantage, but her perceptiveness was her biggest asset. She was both smart and ridiculously emotional all at once.

Someone like her, driven by emotions... perhaps she’s the missing link to the plan.

And so, I waited.

The lights in the police station began to shut off, windows darkening one by one, until eventually a lone figure emerged through the entrance, drifting wearily down the steps and out into the streets.

‘You haven’t been here long, have you?’

At the sound of my voice, she closed her eyes. ‘I’ve only been here a few days.’

As expected.

‘You can’t have been in many games then.’

‘That was only my second one.’

Even though I had predicted as much, it was impressive. Despite barely understanding what was going on, she’d been resourceful enough to work out a solution, even if it had taken her a little longer than it did myself.

‘In that case, you did rather well in there,’ I said. ‘You’re quite sharp.’

‘Thanks, I guess,’ she replied, though her expression was one of distaste. She clearly didn’t trust me at all, however there was plenty of time to change that. I had a feeling I would cross paths with her again soon. After all, this truly was a small world.

‘I look forward to seeing you again in another game.’

With a wave, I left her standing there, confused and bewildered. She was a fool, overpowered by her own fears and anxieties. And yet she was more practical and determined than I had anticipated. In other words, she was the perfect missing piece.

As I strolled through the silent darkness of a derelict Tokyo, where rubbish and old leaflets floated around aimless in the cool breeze, I finally made a decision.

If she survives long enough for us to cross paths again, I’ll bring her to the Beach.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-Ire “The King.”

“I am starting to think that the oracle was screwing with us.”

“Silence!” One of the men barked, clapping Ramirez across the back of the head with an open palm. Ramirez jerked forward with a grunt of pain, and seeing that, Adam was having the sudden, sneaking suspicion that…. Everything wasn’t what it seemed to be.

At first, the whole thing had screamed of elaborate tourism. Let the tourists show up and think they are going on some cool quest, and then make them overpay to meet with some lady who was just super high, but the way these men were acting…

Adam was beginning to agree with Ramirez.

If their adventure as Sheriff’s deputies had been real then wasn’t there all the likelihood that this was real as well? Just because you show up to someplace exotic doesn't mean it was designed like that to amuse you. He wouldn’t take a hop and a skip over to Japan and just assume that the different customs there were an elaborate ploy to get money off of tourists….

Well maybe on Earth that sort of thing could totally happen, but looking at these men…. Their physiques, their clothing,their weapons, and the very real, point of their spears, he was becoming aware that maybe they had stumbled on something a lot more serious than they had first thought.

Shit.

He seemed to have a habit of doing things like that.

He glanced around at the small contingent of men who walked with them. As he had noticed before each and every one of them was absolutely shredded, not necessarily in the bodybuilder kind of way, but in a way that made it clear these guys never skipped leg day, arm, day or cardio. 

Adam and Ramirez were no slouches; by comparison, both of them hitting the gym at least five times a week for an hour at least, but in comparison?

And of course they didn’t hide it either. 

Each of the men carried a massive circular shield and spears taller than they were. They had on sandals with greaves and simple leather wraps, most of them were bare chested, though their commanding officer wore a breastplate, all of them wore helmets.

“Laconia!” 

His sudden exclamation startled the man as well as Ramirez, 

“Shit, I just realized why that sounded familiar.”

One of the men turned to look at his commanding officer, “I do not think they are Athenians, sir.” He glanced back at Adam, “Too dumb.”

The other men laughed at his expense. Adam frowned, “Sorry my knowledge of ancient greek geographical locations isn’t up to snuff.”

He was silenced with another slap to the head, and with his ears ringing and one eye fuzzy, he finally accepted that this was, in fact, not a joke. Somehow, for some reason that dumbass oracle had sent them out to get potentially sacrificed by a group of Neospartans, and he doubted they were going to be able to sue for damages.

It took almost the whole day to make it to “Sparta” itself, though he became aware of their approaching closeness when small dwellings began appearing on the edge of fields. It was only when he figured out that Spartans needed to eat too that he realized not ALL of them were going to be big buff badasses. Of course, that was until he saw the farmer pulling the plow, who was in fact Hercules’s cousin on his father Zeus’s side.

Okay so maybe things were a bit different.

He was under the impression back during the age of real Sparta, a lot of spartan citizens were just normal people and it was only a select few who were turned into warriors. Women, while they had some rights than in other places, were still expected to stay home and take care of things while the men were off at war. She had to be strong, but that was only because she was expected to raise spartan sons, or something like that. He couldn’t remember exactly how that sort of thing worked, he wasn’t a historian. For all he knew Spartan women were just as shredded as the men.

A truth that seemed apparent for thee spartans because, as they made it to the next little farming house, a woman turned to look at them and damn it was like the Amazons met the spartans. She wasn’t particularly tall by anyone’s standards, but she looked like did mixed martial arts for a living.

He had no doubt she could probably kick his ass.

Ramirez had gone rather silent as he looked around  nodding to himself every so often as they were dragged through the outlying villages and farms, and eventually up a set of stone steps leading into a city which was surrounded by lush medeteranian hills and grasslands on either side.

The city itself was no slouch either. It wasn’t as artistically expressive as New Athens had been, ut there was no shortage of statues, and interesting architecture. Walking down the street, everyone they met was shredded or well on their way to becoming so. The men, the women, everyone but the children.

He noticed a few differences from ancient histories, including but not limited to the fact that the women were just as armored as the men, the many races and ethnicities, and the strange assortment of modern day dogs that roamed the place, which he thought was a strange addition.

A line of marching soldiers passed by wearing their red and gold, and as they went Ramirez turned his head to follow them, “Welp, I am pretty sure I had a dream like this once.”

“Did you dream include us dying horribly?”

“Does being crushed between someone's thighs count?”

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens, “how can you be thinking like that at a time like this?”

“How can you not, I am scared and way turned on and it is the most confusing feeling I have ever had in my life…. Aren't you just a little?”

Adam frowned and was surprised to find that, “No, he didn’t think so. He was JEALOUS of plenty of these men, but none of the men or women caught his eye in that way, at least he didn't think so.”

Ramirez stared at him and shook his head sadly.

“What?”

“Still thinking about your breakup huh?”

“No I’m not.”

“Quiet.” One of the men hissed raising a hand to backhand one of them, though he stopped as a voice called out from before them.

“Captain NIcos, you have returned from your patrol.”

It was a woman’s voice this time, and as they looked up an armored figure stepped down from the steps to the columned temple. She wore a bright golden breastplate, knee length red skirt and golden greaves and bracers. An attendant at her shoulder carried her Helm, though she kept hold of her spear and circular shield. She was at least six feet tall and had a body like the she hulk though her face was exceptionally beautiful as well, with large brown eyes and full lips. 

The man raised his spear to her, “Queen Xanthia.”

The man around them raised their spears as well.

She stepped forward over the stone, “What have you found here.” She used the tip of her spear to reach under Ramirez’s chin and tilt his head back, “Athenians?’

“They say they are ‘from Athens, but not “Athenian.” Captain Nicos said shoving Adam forward so he tripped and fell to his knees on the hard stone.

She grunted and turned her attention to him, tilting his head back to look at her, “Is this true, not-an-Athenian.”

He crinched away from the blade of her spear, “I’m Mericandian actually, Terran, Earthling.”

There were a couple grunts of surprise from around the group.

“Tourists.” Ramirez piped in.

Xanthia frowned, raising her chin, “And how did you end up on Laconia. We don’t encourage tourists here.” 

“Would you believe it if I said that asshole of an oracle sent us here.” He raised his hands, “We meant no disrespect of course, we just came here to see the sights and then leave.”

Ramirez nodded.

There was another muttering from the crowd. She had an eyebrow raised, “The oracle you say?”

The two of them nodded again, not sure where this was going.

She turned her head to Captain Nicos, “Keep a close eye on them, I will speak with the king”

She turned on her heels and walked off, passing through the double doors with a swish of her red cloak, leaving the two of them still kneeling on the rough stone.

They turned to look at each other in nervous confusion, not entirely sure where this was going. Overhead the sky had dimmed to a dull blue and torches were being lit all up the city streets. The young man who was doing the lighting had the look of a classic greek hero with tight curly hair and a body borrowed from a demigod.

The two of them didn’t say anything until the doors opened and the queen walked back out, “The king wishes to see the intruders.”

Two guards held the doors opened as they were forced to their feet and up the steps. The interior of the room was bare and blunt, no more than stone pillars and a single uncomfortable throne carved out of sharp marble blocks, on which sat the manliest man he had likely ever seen. Xanthia walked over and sat in the identical throne next to him, and together it seemed as if they were being pulled before the throne of the very gods themselves.

This man was godlike, but not the kind of overly muscled where he can't even touch his own head. This was probably what peak human performance looked like with a neatly shaved beard and thick dark hair. Adam glanced over at Ramirez again, to see the other man was nodding in great approval of this development. He turned his head back to the man who stood very slowly, his armor clinking. He wore a short sword on one hip and carried a spear in one hand, and when he moved, he moved with the grace of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and where his body was at all times.

He walked down the steps and looked the two of them over with steely golden eyes, like those of a wolf.

His gaze fell on Adam for a long hard moment, “I see we have been graced by the presence of a foreign general.” He said turning back and stepping up the stone steps.

There was a murmuring in the room around them.

Adam blinked in surprise, “You know who I am.”

The Spartan king stood before his seat, but did not sit down, “Well of course.”

He held up his arm so Adam could see the scrolling holographic image across his wrist, “Just because I live like a spartan doesn’t mean I subjugate my life to not knowing what goes on in the universe. In fact as King it is my duty to know what important developments are being made in this galaxy.”

He turned his head to look at Adam ,”I am loyal to this galaxy and the ideals upon which humanity has befriended aliens.” He walked across the stone, “And you Admiral Vir  are an important linchpin in that model.”

He turned to wave a hand at Ramirez, “And of course I know a Marine when I see one.”

Another muttering from around the room.

So, this is sort of not what he expected. The Spartan king was well versed in intergalactic politics, and was no slouch intellectually either.

“So, you’ll let us go then.”

The man did not smile, but the way his eyes twinkled, almost menacingly did not give Adam much hope.

“Oh I never said that.” He turned and paced back in the other direction, “You see, Admiral, I have become aware of an unfortunate pattern in humanity’s political history, and this includes the fall of empires due to poor or weak leaders.” he turned on the spot, “I had given up hope in being able to influence the intergalactic stage, but finding you here has…. Given me an idea.”

Oh no.

“I want to see just what kind of men are being tasked with keeping this galaxy together. I want to know if you can do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. I want to make sure that my people are in good hands, when their good is out of mine.”

“What are you talking about.”

“I want to make sure you are a brave leader, and that you can fight when is necessary.”

He made a motion with his hands and Ramirez was dragged off to the side.

A group of Spartans stepped up and grabbed Adam around the arms hauling him to his feet.

“Bring him to the training field.” The king said, and the group of men dragged him forward and out the doors.

Adam tried to protest but he was silenced as he was dragged from the doors, down the walkway and into a large lit arena with a sandy dirt floor. A large group of men were practicing here with their spears and shields, but cleared off as soon as an order was barked.

“What are you doing!” Adam demanded

“Consider this your greek trial, Admiral.” The king said taking his own spear and tossing it to Adam, who caught it in one hand, “Fight, and let’s see what you can do.” “But I-”

He was handed a shield, and then the group began to pull back.

The king stepped up onto the arena wall and paced down it’s length, “Lets see if you can beat one of my men first, and we will go from there.”

He motioned a hand and ordered one of the younger men forward. He couldn’t have been that old and was not nearly as well put together as the others, but he held his spear and shield with some confidence.

Ok…. this was going to get interesting.

He knew there was nothing he could do to stop them, so Adam dropped into a crouch.

The shield felt awkward and heavy on his arm, but the spear was a familiar weight. They circled for a short time before the boy came charging at him. He could see what the king was doing. This boy was young and had probably trained repeatedly in drills but had never sued weapons in practice..

He was meant to be easy to beat.

Adam stepped to the side and caught the boy’s foot sending him staggering away. Adam used the shield to knock him further off balance and sent him plowing into the dirt.

No one made a sound.

It wasn’t that impressive. That was SUPPOSED to be easy.

“So at least you have SOME training.” The king called. Overhead a shooting star crossed over the heavens. A crowd trickled onto the stands of the arena.

He motioned someone else forward. She too was young, but the set of her face and a scar down her right cheek showed that she had at least SEEN combat at some point. The way she eyed Adam told him that she knew what she was doing.

Her problem?

She was likely to set i nher fighting abilities, not creative enough. He traded a couple of strikes with her, gaging her ability before making his move. He used his shield as a distraction to cover some of his movement so she couldn't see, and then sent a lightning fast jab. He struck a hit hard on the side of her helmet sending her plowing to the Arena floor.

Still no one made a sound.

The king nodded slowly and motioned someone else forward.

This man was an actual soldier, though likely no great shakes, but at least he knew what he was doing. Adam ended up in a sharp flurry of contact before the shield got in his way and he almost took a hard blow to the shoulder , even so he ended up with a delicate cut along the side of his cheek. It was only by way of quick thinking that he was able to duck under one of the swipes and kick the man hard in the sternum. He went flailing back into the dirt, and Adam couldn’t help but whisper to himself.

“And this is sparta bitch.”

The kind paced around him in a wide circle, “So, someone has trained you in the use of the spear.”

Adam growled, “I was trained to fight aliens with four arms, so you are going to have to try harder.”

The king smiled, “Confidence…. Always a good sign. But the shield, I think you have not been trained to use one of those.”

Adam paused nodded, and then threw the shield to the ground kicking it away.

He took the spear up in two hands, in a distinctly different style from the spartans, “Well, come on then.”

WIth the shield gone and his switch back to using a spear like he had been trained he defeated the next three challenges with relative impunity. It was only when the king stared adding extra fighters did Adam struggle.

They clashed hard, Adam ducking dodging and sometimes jumping over swings from his opponents. He dived into the dirt, rolled onto his back and caught two spears as they hurtled down at him. He kicked one in the side of the knee and he went down. Adam lunged for the hit, spun on the spot and caught the second spear as it came down for him again. He brought the but of his spear up and hit the woman in the face before spinning back in the other direction, dodging an oncoming jab and slammed his spear into the back of his opponent’s head sending them sprawling to the ground.

He was breathing heavily now but he could see and hear some of the men and women muttering in surprise.

The king nodded, “This is heartening, I must say. It seems as if our leaders CAN fight.”

Someone was motioned forward and he was handed a rag to wipe his face and a canteen of water. He drank greedy wiping his mouth and tossing the leather skin back to the young woman who had brought it to him.

“But I think I do see one deficiency.”

He took a waiting spear from one of his followers, waved off a shield and stepped into the ring.

Men and women all around the circle leaned forward in anticipation. Adam readied himself.

The king stepped forward.

Adam could already tell this wasn;t going to be easy.

He was already tired, the kind was fresh.

But still he was ready, the two men circled and then Adam lunged forward in the way the Drev had taught him, The king batted it away and they made an exchange. The man didn’t try to attack him, but seemed content on seeing what Adam could do. Their engagement must have lasted for thirty minutes as they clashed, the king slowly escalating over that time. The longer they went the more energized the other man became. Adam thought if he could just hold out until the other man grew tired as well, then maybe he would have an upper hand.

But it never happened.

Adam gasped for air.

Even after what must have been thirty minutes of continual engagement, the other man only seemed to be breathing steadier and more deeply. All together they had been fighting longer and harder than all of the other previous engagements put together, and still the man was not tired. Adam watched as the man specifically did not take openings that should have killed Adam.

He knew he was trying to make some sort of point.

Adam was breathing in ragged gasps now. He had never been so tired in all his life, he came in for a lunge he knew was sloppy, and his spear was kicked from his hand. A sandals foot hit him in the chest and he went down choking. The king stood over him nodding, “I am impressed by your skill” He turned and waved to the crowd, “You could match any man or woman here hand to hand in a fair fight, but you do have one deficiency.”

Adam gulped and panted.

The king crouched next to him, “No stamina.”

He stood again, “You train with my men tomorrow, and so does your marine. We will make Spartan’s out of you yet!”

Adam gasped coming to his knees, “Wait… but I-”

“You came here for vacation, and I am sorry to inform you that will not be so. You will not be leaving until I am satisfied our galaxy is in the Best hands.”

Adam stood crawling to his feet with great effort.

The king even smiled at him this time, which seemed strange to him somehow. He held out a hand and Adam took it, “A pleasure to fight with you Admiral, I am James king of the Spartans.”

Adam frowned, “James?’ Not Kyros or something?”

“I was born in the northern provinces of Mericanda, of course I don’t have a greek name.”

He clapped Adam on the shoulder and then walked off joined by his queen and their entourage as he shouted orders vanishing into the night.

Adam stared after him.

So, the king of Sparta was Canadian? 

[script-nef]

Interview Time | Oikawa Tooru

Category: fluff

2k words; an eventful interview with Oikawa and his girlfriend

Today we are joined by the phenomenal setter of Club Athletico San Juan, Oikawa Tooru, and the manager of the team, [Name] [Surname]. They are the iconic couple who have brought laughter and joy to many matches by their interactions. 

“Hello, [Name] here!”

“Hi, I’m Oikawa! And [Name]-chan, is that a reference to Zuko?”

“It most certainly is. It’s good to see you finally recognise some of my pop culture references now. I was wondering when you’d finally get a hobby outside of volleyball.”

“I have one!”

“Searching for alien conspiracy theories is not a hobby. Tooru, you’re weird as hell.”

“But you still love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Hey!”

You guys are so cute and lively together! Today’s interview will be focused on your relationship, but feel free to reject some of the questions if you’re uncomfortable. Is that okay?

“Sure!”

Q. How did you two meet?

“Oh, I was working for San Juan as one of the managers when he was brought in. Since I’m fluent in Japanese, the head coach asked me to help him around because his Spanish and English was atrocious.”

“Eck, [Name]-chan! I wasn’t that bad!”

“You were terrible, who are you trying to kid? Literally no one could understand half the things you were saying. I was basically your translator for the first year.”

“[Name]-chan!! You’re breaking my heart!”

“As long as your body works for volleyball I don— Okay, okay, I was kidding! Don’t pout, Tooru. You learnt it quick enough and now you don’t have any problems! Besides, it’s thanks to your previously horrible language skills that we got to spend more much time together, right?

“I guess that’s true… Was I really that bad though?”

“Absolutely horrible. Everyone can back me up on this.”

Q. What is one quality about each other that you admire and love the most?

“Tenacity, I guess. In volleyball and everything else. He stays behind all the damn time for hours, none of his teammates can keep up. I once had to conk him on the head and drag him out so he would rest.”

“It hurt! You’re stronger than Iwa-chan sometimes, I don’t even understand how that’s possible.”

“You think I’m stronger than the arm-wrestling champion Iwa-chan?”

“Yes. Anyway, what I love most about [Name] is her perceptivity. Did you know that I once had a small kink in my leg muscle which was uncomfortable and she caught it in a second? No one else noticed except her! And this was before we started dating!”

“Yeah, well. I did spend the most time with you and you constantly tell me things about yourself. Even when I didn’t ask.”

“[Name]-chan is so shy. It’s okay, I know you loved me since the moment you laid your eyes on me.”

“Eh…”

“Hey!”

“I didn’t fall in love with you at first sight, I don’t believe in that. You slowly grew on me because you incessantly hit on me.”

“That’s the best kind of hitting!”

“...hm. Do you, um, like any other sort of hitting—”

“[Name]-chan, we’re on camera! Stop that!”

I’m sorry, please keep this PG, there are young fans who might be watching. Moving on!

Q. What was your first date like?

“First date, huh? It was like, ages ago…”

“It was 6 years ago, in August. We went to the Tango festival in Buenos Aires. I had such a fun time with you then!”

“You had fun stepping all over my feet. It’s honestly appalling how much you sucked at dancing back then. You were bad at a lot of things, huh.”

“She complained about it all night, but even then she was so cute and brilliant. She led me for the second half, stating that she had enough of her feet getting trampled on.”

“Thankfully you picked it up fast. You’re pretty fast at learning new skills.”

“Aww, is the ever-so stoic [Name]-chan praising me? How rare!”

“Well, if you don’t want me to, then…”

“Wait, no don’t stop! I was kidding, praise me more!” 

“Ah, don’t latch onto me, this is on cam— Tooru!”

Now, now, please calm down. Straight onto the next question!

Q. Do you have any memorable dates or events?

“Oh, there was this one time.”

“I already said sorry for that!”

“That doesn’t mean it never happened! My jaw still hurts when I think about it!”

“I said sorry every single time!”

“Still! Okay, the story is that I wanted to surprise him when he came back home but it went horribly. The first part, at least. “He didn’t know I was coming over because I wanted it to be a surprise, which in hindsight was a bad idea. I made dinner and turned the lights off when I heard the door unlocking. In my head, it was like ‘pop and and surprise him’, but when I did, he got spooked and hit me in the jaw.”

“It was reflex! [Name]-chan, you popped out screaming ‘surprise’ right in front of me!”

“Yeah, but still. That’s how I now know he has a great right hook. Nearly knocked me out. But his crying and screaming stopped me from falling unconscious.”

“I thought I really did knock you out!”

“Yeah, but you kept on screaming even after I said it was okay. You’ve probably heard of it too, there were news articles about how he came into the emergency room crying his eyes out.”

“I really am sorry about it, [Name]-chan…”

“Hey now, no need to be sad. It’s just a funny memory to tell everyone now.” 

At least you can laugh about it now.

Q. 6 years is a long time. You must have a lot of anniversaries. What do you do for them?

“Nothing special, we just get presents for each other and spend the day together. I used to just tell him what I wanted but he can figure out what I want now.”

“That shows what an amazing and observant boyf—I mean fiancé I am! Have you ever been disappointed with anything I gave you?”

“Well, no, not yet.”

“See? And you get me all the things I want and need. We’re a perfect couple.”

“We sometimes go on trips to neighbouring countries, visit some tourist spots. I bought him a camera for the anniversary last year, and now he takes tons of photos everywhere we go. There’s a huge stack of polaroids in our bedroom.”

“[Name]-chan, don’t ignore me! Aren’t we a perfect couple?”

“I think we’re the best we can be. Perfection doesn’t exist, but we can strive to be the best we can be, right Tooru?”

“Yup! You’re so wise when it comes to things like this.”

Q. What do you do in your spare time?

“We recently started watching TV shows like Umbrella Academy and Doctor Who. Tooru likes them because of all the aliens and superpowers.”

“They’re all so creative! Like the Weeping Angel, that makes me freak out whenever I see a statue now. Some of them give me nightmares.”

“Weeping Angels are messed up. Wait, why do you watch it if it gives you nightmares? You need to take care of your mental state as well, national representative!”

“But you hug me when I sleep if I have night terrors! I would sit through a hundred horror movies if it means you would hug me.”

“…”

“Are you… blushing?”

“No.”

“Aw, [Name]-chan, you’re blushing! I love you so much!”

“Tooru, stop! I’m going to fa—”

*Technical difficulties please hold*

Q. You recently announced your engagement, congratulations! How was the proposal, if you don’t mind me asking?

“I took her to her favourite restaurant! It’s this fancy place in a building near the training centre and she loves the pizza there.”

“It is delicious. He can’t see how good it is, this uncultured child.”

“It’s not my type! I like other pizzas, just not that one. Her face absolutely glows with happiness when she takes a bite but I can’t understand it. They have those really salty fish—”

“Anchovy. And I usually don’t like it either, but they make it taste amazing!”

“No, it still tastes like clumps of salt. Thankfully I like other dishes on the menu. We go there so often that the owner has a special spot reserved for us. It’s by a window and since the restaurant is in a tall building, it looks over the lights of the city. It’s very beautiful.”

“He was looking skittish than usual, so I was worried for him. I actually thought he wanted to break up with me. But instead, he showed me the ring and asked me to marry him.”

“Why would I ever break up with you?”

“Couples split apart! It’s what happens to a lot of them, I have never heard of someone who lived forever with only one person.”

“Tobio-chan did!”

“Are we considering volleyball as a person now?”

“[Name]-chan, we went to their wedding!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just kidding! He was pretty cute, all twitchy and red. His wife was even cuter though, so shy and embarrassed. Very beautiful as well.”

“You’re going to be even more radiant at our wedding. I can see you in your dress already.”

“Wow, you must be able to see into the future, since I haven’t even looked at the catalogue.”

“It’s a figure of speech!”

Now, now, please calm down! Onto the next question.

Q. You guys had been dating for quite a while before getting engaged. When did you realise you wanted to spend the rest of your life with each other?

“Oh, you never actually told me this.”

“It was actually when I was away for a game! [Name]-chan couldn’t come because she had to work back in Argentina, so I was all alone in a foreign country.”

“Literally everyone else on the team came to the game, you weren’t alone.”

“But none of them were you! Let me be romantic and tell my love story!”

“Alright, alright, no more interruptions. Proceed.”

“Thank you. It was the first day there. I finished the practice for the day and did our daily night call, because we always talk before falling asleep. I dozed off to her talking, so I thought she would be there when I woke up. But when I opened my eyes in the morning, and she wasn’t there, this wave of panic came over me until I realised I was overseas. “That moment was probably it. I thought there, lying on the bed, that I would never be happy unless I wake up next to her every morning and see her sleeping face. Unless I could start off my day by kissing her and holding her in my arms.”

“…That— that’s what you thought when you woke up?”

“Yeah? And I thought that every morning since the— wait, are you blushing?”

“No, shut up and go away, Tooru.”

“AWWWW [NAME]-CHAN IS BLUSHING AND TRYING TO HIDE FROM ME!! YOU’RE SO CUTE AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! I WANT TO SQUISH YOUR WIDDLE FACE AND CUDDLE YOU FOREVER MY AMAZING AND PRECIOUS WIFE!”

“Ack, Tooru, I’m going to fall agai—”

*Another technical difficulty, please hold*

Well, I think this has been a very cute and informative session. Quite eventful as well.

“If by eventful, you mean him trying to hug me so tight my ribs break and I get concussions from falling all the time, then yes, eventful.”

“Sorry, [Name]-chan, you were just too cute!”

“Not another word, volleyboy.”

Well, I’m sure your fans will be thrilled to see how cute the two of you are!

“His fans do seem to like knowing little stupid stories we have.”

“They’re our memories and I wouldn’t ever trade them for anything else.”

“…Me neither.”

“Aw, you’re so affectionate today, [Name]-chan. Maybe we should come again next time so I can see you blushing even more!”

We are completely on board with tha— 

“Okay, this is the end of our interview and I hope it was fun for the viewers! Bye-bye now!”

“Ah, she’s escaping! Wait for me, [Name]-chan! Thanks for watching! Bye!”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 13

First

Previous

Next

Chloe sat on the bridge overlooking the river, her feet swinging absently as she watched bubbles streaming to the surface.

She’d love to help.

No, really. On top of just being bored out of her mind, she could also rub it in the other miraculous holders’ faces. That would be fun.

But, alas, things never worked out for her. Master Fu hadn’t whipped up a new batch of powerups quite yet, and even if he had she doubted that he would have given it to her of all people.

(Well, in all technicality they could go underwater and not die. The suits gave them some protection. But have you ever tried punching someone underwater? It’s quite the disadvantage.)

So, she settled for eating some ice cream and watching.

It was kind of fun, if she was being honest. She watched with bated breath, waiting for the occasional moments where Carapace would be thrown out of the water and hit a wall so hard it collapsed on him. He noticed her the third time this happened and now made a point to throw chunks of building at her every time.

Someone was in a bad mood. Who knows why. Couldn’t have anything to do with her, surely.

After about twenty minutes of fighting the buildings started mending themselves and she smiled as her ice cream reappeared in her hand.

Carapace jumped out of the water, a young woman in his arms. Once they were safely on land he detached her from the oxygen tank hidden in the shell on his back. If some of the water on her face wasn’t from the river, neither of them were going to say anything about it.

He walked over. Chloe thought he was just giving her some space to cry (the person looked foreign, if their confused frown was anything to go by), but then she saw the annoyance in the slight set of his jaw and she groaned mentally. Great. She was going to get chewed out again.

“Thanks so much for your help, Chloe --”

“Queenie or Queen Bee when we’re on the job, remember?”

He raised his eyebrows before shrugging and continuing on like he hadn’t heard her: “-- were you here to just watch and laugh?”

She scoffed. “No, that was just a fun little bonus.” She handed him the newly reformed ice cream. “I came here to take the akuma home. Didn’t know she was foreign, though.”

That made him pause, his previously annoyed expression quickly changing to a more confused one. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanted to help me? You?”

“... yeah?” Said Chloe, crossing her arms over her chest. He was clearly looking for some sort of ulterior motive in her eyes, and she figured she’d give him one because she didn’t know how long she could stand to have him look stunned about her doing something mildly nice. “I feel like I owe everyone one for getting us all into this mess.”

He didn’t seem fully convinced (was he really that surprised that she was a decent person? She was a hero! It was her job!), but he let the subject go.

“Thanks, Queenie.”

She smiled a little. “Your ice cream is melting.”

“Damn it --!”

She snickered and walked over to the foreigner, who was just now coming out of their shock.

“Hey!”

The foreigner stared at her for a few minutes before whispering a: “What happened?”

“Um...”

What was the official spiel? Dang. She wracked her brain, trying to remember anything from the many hour long session where Master Fu had drilled it into all of them. Maybe she shouldn’t have slept through it.

“You got turned into a monster by an evil butterfly because we have a magical super terrorist.”

The lady stared at her for a few seconds before laughing and shaking her head. “Okay, what actually happened?”

Chloe gave her a shrug. “I don’t know. You fell in the water and my friend got you out.”

She jerked her head towards Carapace, who was casually eating the ice cream on a nearby bench and not going to class like she’d expected but whatever.

The foreigner nodded. “Yeah, I am a bit clumsy. Why’re you dressed like that?”

Chloe looked down at herself and hesitated. Usually her dad wanted them to say that they were filming a movie so they would still get tourists, but Nadja Chamack wasn’t there to make it sound realistic (no one wants to watch still water on the news for 10+ minutes), so…

“My friend and I cosplay.”

“Oh! Cool!” Said the foreigner. “Thanks for helping me! Hope your outfit didn’t get too damaged!”

After Carapace assured her that it was fine, she relaxed. They gave her directions to her hotel and watched her leave.

He cracked a grin once he was sure the foreigner was gone. “Maybe there’s something in the Paris air that makes people stupid. I still can’t believe anyone actually falls for that.”

“The alternative is believing there's a guy who’s going around with evil butterflies. I’d believe anything over that.”

“America has superheroes and stuff, too, y’know.”

“Yeah, but the heroes are adults and the villains actually show up.”

He sighed. “Lucky them.”

Chloe couldn’t help but agree.

He polished off his ice cream. When asked, she turned away so he could detransform and put his mask on. She didn’t know why he bothered detransforming when he was still wearing a green hoodie as a civilian. What was the point? Did he really want the sleeves back that badly?

Whatever. She detransformed as well.

“Ready to head home?”

“For someone who was so annoyed about leaving class, you don’t seem all that eager to go back to it,” said Chloe, crossing her arms over her chest as they started on their way.

He raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “The excuse I used isn’t one that would let me go back. Or, at least, if I did everyone in class would think I was a terrible friend.”

She nodded her understanding.

“Thanks for trying, though.”

She chanced a look back and scoffed a little at the soft smile on his face. “Don’t expect anything like that again. I just owed you.”

The look melted into a cheeky grin. “Well, actually, you didn’t actually do anything to help, so don’t you still owe me?”

“... no? I gave you ice cream. Debt gone. That's how it works.”

“Okay, but it was previously eaten ice cream.”

“Like you can tell the difference.”

He rested a hand over his heart. “I happen to have a very refined palette, thank you very much.”

“I’ve seen you eat pickles with peanut butter.”

“You’ve dipped a burger in honey!”

“I have an excuse,” she reminded him. “What’s yours?”

He was silent for a moment. There was no excuse for pickles and peanut butter.

“... you still owe me.”

“No, I don’t!”

Would you believe me if I said that they continued debating this the entire twenty minute walk home?

And maybe even a little bit afterwards?

~

Chloe glanced out the window. It was nearing October, and…

“Hey, guys, we need to use these vegetables before they go out of season.”

Chat looked up from where he was watching a cartoon. Rena stopped doing pushups.

(Ladybug was on patrol and Carapace was doing homework in his room. Unfortunate, because now both of the people assigned the role of ‘group impulse control’ were absent.)

“What even uses a lot of vegetables?” Rena said.

“Salad,” said Chat with a knowing nod.

“Ew,” said Chloe, shaking her head. She stared at everything they had, a tiny frown playing on her lips, then snapped her fingers. “Salsa uses vegetables, right? Let’s just make a bunch of that.”

There were a lot of vegetables, but hey! More for them.

Rena went back to doing pushups. “Sure. Just make sure it isn’t white people stuff. Try asking for the recipe in Spanish.”

“Smart. Chat, can you look it up? I have dirt on my hands.”

Chat groaned as if she were asking him to do some great task and then stretched for his phone on the coffee table. He refused to leave the couch, so he ended up with his feet hooked over the arm of the couch for support as he stretched himself to the phone. He broke into a wide grin when he finally managed to grab it and then pulled himself back onto the couch.

It was probably more effort than just getting up a bit to grab it then sitting back down, but whatever.

He started typing, then he paused. “You guys know the Spanish word for salsa?”

Silence stretched between them as the two women looked at each other, trying to gauge whether or not he’d actually just asked that. Chat was steadily sinking into the couch as if hoping it would swallow him whole.

“The… the spanish word for salsa?” Repeated Rena.

“It -- I -- shut up!” He said. “Do you want salsa or not?”

Chloe snickered. “Sure. Can I see the recipe?”

He showed it to her and she squinted for a minute at all the words. Were some of them similar to French words? Yes. Was she completely sure about anything? Not at all.

She briefly considered asking Chat to translate everything for her, but she couldn’t. Not after she’d laughed at him for temporarily forgetting that salsa is salsa. He’d at least known the word for ‘recipe’ in Spanish, he had that over her.

Whatever. She’d guess. She’d had salsa before, surely that was enough to figure it out.

She started picking vegetables and after making sure to wash them off properly, they were set to start cooking.

Rena raised her eyebrows at the sink full of vegetables, opened her mouth to say something, snapped it shut. Her lips curved into a fox-like grin.

“What is it? I don’t like that smile,” said Chloe. She could feel that Rena was getting mischievous, she just couldn’t figure out why.

“Ah, don’t worry,” said Rena, waving her off as she pulled on an apron.

This worried Chloe more, but whatever.

“We don’t have a food processor or a blender, what do we do?” Said Chat, his eyes scanning the recipe.

“Just cut them real thin. It’ll be fine,” said Chloe with a vague wave of her hand.

She had a lot of confidence for someone who had never been in a kitchen in her life.

… It went great. Obviously.

The resident rich kids actually had been trying to be helpful, which kind of makes their failures worse in a way.

Chloe had been cutting tomatoes with the dull end of the knife for ten minutes before Rena had thought to look over and turn it around.

Chat had thought that it would be a good idea to chop jalapenos before onions and had rubbed jalapeno juice in his eye while trying to stop crying, which had not helped.

While Chat was attempting to get that out of his eyes without actually touching them, Chloe had taken up cutting onions. It was harder than she’d thought it’d be. The onion kept falling apart no matter how hard she tried to hold it together.

Chat had come back, eyes irritated and red, and started trying to cut tomatoes. This would have been fine if he could actually see the seeds enough to get them out.

… it was at this point that Rena had made them go sit down so she could just cook without a disaster happening every few seconds. She may have liked mayhem, but she actually wanted to eat some of the food they were working so hard for, so it was in her best interest to get them to just sit down at the kitchen table and watch.

A good while later Rena walked over. “I finished. Want to see?” She asked, her voice a little wobbly, as if she was on the verge of laughter.

Chloe squinted suspiciously at her before looking at the counter.

Ah. So that was what Rena’s mischievous smile had meant earlier.

They might have made about seven mixing bowls full of salsa (actually, it was more pico de gallo if you consider consistency, but that’s neither here nor there).

Chat groaned quietly. “Well, I hope Ladybug and Carapace really like salsa.”

“We don’t.”

The three problem children looked up to see Ladybug and Carapace leaning in the doorframe. Ladybug looked like she was fighting back her amusement, Carapace just looked tired.

Ladybug managed to pull herself back to her normal formalness as she crossed her arms over her chest. “According to the internet, salsa goes bad in about a week. I do expect that you won’t waste any.”

“Please help,” said a slightly distressed Rena. Their diets were SCREWED.

“Nope. This was your mistake,” said Carapace.

Oh, so NOW he has a backbone?

Ladybug gave Rena a cold look. “You should have told them.”

“... it was my miraculous’s fault.”

“Unfortunate,” said Carapace, unamused. He looked at the bowls on the counter and shook his head with a sigh. “Guess I need to go buy some tortilla chips for everyone.”

~~~

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