#trust me you will Not remember these squabbles what you will remember is what you loved and if youre lucky thats a lot of memories

[dayurno]

my advice for anyone whos growing more and more frustrated with the state of aftg and fandom at large is that arguing is fun but you need to be happy. ok. you need to. its hard when bad faith takes are dropped to your doorstep but you need to be happy and enjoy yourself and have fun or there's no point in anything at all ever. ok. fandom is not real and nothing is worth more than your enjoyment. i love you please make sure to have fun and reach out to a friend today. for me

[envy-of-the-apple]

How about apocalypse!au with yan gojo and a foreigner reader who is going on a vacation/business trip when the outbreak happen?

kinda sick of apocalypse aus soooo yakuza!au instead so basically i changed this entire request im rlly sorry

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Stop Crying

(Warnings: Yandere, kidnapping, dark content, noncon touching, human trafficking)

You promised yourself you'd stay safe during your trip to Japan.

You took all the precautions. You traveled with friends you trusted. You kept your phone on. You didn't accept any drinks from anyone you didn't know. You checked in with your folks back home every night.

And yet, nothing stopped it.

It was clearly a basement. No windows. Dark, with the exception of the flickering light on the ceiling. The thin cot and scrap of a blanket did nothing to protect you from the cold.

Your phone was gone. So was your bag. Except for the clothes on your back, they took everything. You can still remember the fear you felt when those men grabbed you, hauling you into the back of a truck. No matter how hard you screamed and kicked and hollered, they didn't let go. You remembered you bit one of them. He just swore in Japanese before backhanding you. It throbbed for hours before you eventually just passed out.

And now you were here. In a basement.

You were probably going to die. You heard the underground was rampant in Japan. They were going to cut you up, sell off your organs for thousands. If they were merciful, maybe the most your body would face would just be getting thrown overseas. If you were lucky, your rotting corpse would be found. If you were one of God's favorites, you'd be recognizable enough to notify your family. At least then, they'd have something to grieve over. The pieces that was left.

The door creaks. You jump, curled in the musty corner. You hear voices. Two. Maybe three. All male, speaking in fast Japanese. They all descend the steps, and your heartbeat picks up faster than before.

One was a stout man with a nervous sort of prattle. From his tone, you could tell he was trying to appease the other two. The other two were tall, heads nearly brushing the ceiling. One was wearing traditional clothing. Long black hair, graceful movements.

The other wore circular sunglasses. He was too young to have natural white hair. He must dye it. While the other two linger behind, he's the one who strides towards you.

You panic, pressing yourself into the wall, hoping to just disappear, melt into the background. Your fear doesn't deter him. He grabs your chin turning your face one way, and then the other. His hold tightens, even when you try to escape. He seems to be fixated on one side of your face. The slap must have left a bruise.

That seems to anger him. He snaps something over to the other two. The man in traditional garments doesn't look very impressed, while the other hurriedly titters. Maybe they were planning on selling you, that's why seeing you blemish-free would be such a deterrent to their plans.

Eventually, the man directs his attention back to you. You think he'd speaking to you. You aren't sure. You don't know where you are. You don't know who these people are. You don't know what they want to do to you.

You're scared. You're so so scared.

When you start to cry, the man gets even more aggravated. He lets you go with a scoff, before walking back to his group. They squabble a bit more, before the shorter of the three reluctantly makes his way over to you.

"The Six Eyes wants to know your name," he says, accent thick.

You stare at him. Helpless and confused.

"The Six Eyes...?" You repeat and then your eyes flick over to the white-haired man. Standing tall and still, like a beautiful statue.

You don't know what's in it to lie. They have your wallet, your ID, your passport probably. You mumble out your name in defeat. The Six Eyes hums in approval.

"I have money." You blurt out. "A lot of it. If-if you let me go. I'll give you whatever you want. My-my family will pay any price."

He translates. When he's done, the other two laugh. It's loud and scratches the inside your chest. You duck away, feeling the tears again.

"The Six Eyes said he's paid too much for you to entertain that possibility." The translator says. Your heart drops.

"Paid for me.." You repeat. No no no no. "What does that even mean?"

The man stares at you with sympathy. You don't want it, you want to throw it back on his face, but you can barely move from your spot.

"He will take good care of you." he tries to console. "I heard the Six Eyes treats his things very well."

You don't want to hear it. You fall into hysterics. You want to go home. You want to go back to your country. You want to go home.

A long hand grabs your chin, instantly quieting you. Unlike his firm grip earlier, this one is nearly painful. You're certain he'd crush your bones if he wanted to. You quiet anyway. That seems to satisfy him now. He mutters something to the translator.

"The Six Eyes is telling you not to scream anymore. He finds it aggravating." The translator says.

The Six Eyes turns to the translator knowingly. The man shuffles with his feet, before reluctantly clearing his throat.

"You...belong to the Six Eyes now."

The Six Eyes grins, filled with white glistening teeth.

"Don't disappoint him. "

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Too Many Beds (Teaser)

You shared 25 years of your life with Seunghceol, what was another 4 nights right?

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x reader

Word Count - 488 for the teaser ( The full fic is around 11k, give or take? It was supposed to be below 2K, I fucked up)

Genre - Enemies to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots and I love making them pine hehe

Warnings - none for the teaser, maybe an reference to Seungcheol's dick

Estimated posting date - 6th July, 5pm KST (I don't have a taglist but I am happy to tag if anyone wants? Just drop comment or send an ask/message :)

Edit - It's out! Read here :)

“Absolutely not.” 

“No way in hell.” 

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I’m not sharing a room with him.” 

“I don’t wish to even breathe in her vicinity.” 

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.” 

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you sweetheart.” 

“That was a fact darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her confused eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So the two of you are dating?” 

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back. 

“No!” 

“No!” 

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday that date her-” 

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. How about I give you something to better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that puny thing-” 

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.” 

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.” 

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking aback all three of its inhabitants. From the corner of your eye you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder.

Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out.

Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in one hand each, leading the way to your despair of the night. 

[swappermanent]

Twin Switcheroo

You always hear about identical twins pulling the ol’ switcheroo on their parents or teachers—pretending to be one another just for the thrill. Nobody could tell them apart, so no harm, no foul, right? Well, my brother Aidan and I did that too. Only problem? We’re fraternal twins.

And when I say “fraternal,” I don’t mean the kind where people squint and say, Oh, I can kinda see it if I tilt my head. No, Aidan and I look nothing alike. But somehow, we pulled it off. Not because we were convincing actors, mind you, but because we had something most kids didn’t: the swapping stone.

It all started when we were nine. One of those sketchy, seasonal fairs had rolled into town, the kind that takes over the Walmart parking lot with creaky rides and booths full of cheap plastic prizes. Mom had given us ten bucks each to go wild, and we’d spent the better part of the afternoon losing at ring toss and inhaling cotton candy. That’s when we saw it: a grubby little booth tucked between the Tilt-A-Whirl and the fried dough stand.

The sign said “Mystical Marvels and Curiosities.” Beneath it sat an old woman with a hunched back and a smile full of suspiciously white teeth. Her table was cluttered with all sorts of junk—snow globes, “enchanted” bracelets, a crystal ball that was probably just glass. But in the middle of it all was this smooth, flat stone, about the size of a hockey puck, with strange carvings etched into its surface.

“What’s that?” Aidan had asked, pointing to the stone.

The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, a powerful artifact, young one,” she said in a voice like creaking floorboards. “The Swapstone. Hold it between your hands with someone you trust, and you will trade places—body and soul.”

We’d burst out laughing, of course. It was obviously a gimmick, just like the “magic” wands she was selling for five bucks a pop. But we were nine, and the stone looked cool, so we pooled our money and bought it.

We didn’t think much of it until later that night. We were in our room, half-heartedly squabbling over whose turn it was to play the Xbox, when Aidan picked up the stone and tossed it at me.

“Hey, let’s try it,” he said, grinning.

“Try what? Swapping bodies?” I snorted, catching the stone.

“Yeah,” he said, plopping onto the bed. “What’s the worst that could happen? We hold hands and nothing happens? Big deal.”

I rolled my eyes but sat down across from him. “Fine. But when nothing happens, I get to play Xbox for the rest of the night.”

“Deal,” he said, holding out his hands.

We pressed our palms against the stone, and for a second, nothing happened. Then—

A rush of heat. A flash of light. And suddenly, I wasn’t looking at Aidan anymore. I was looking at... me.

“What the—” I started, but the voice wasn’t mine. It was Aidan’s. I scrambled to my feet, staring down at hands that weren’t my own, arms that were bulkier than I remembered. Across from me, Aidan was doing the same, staring at my scrawny frame with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“No way,” he whispered. “No freaking way.”

We spent the next ten minutes testing it out, poking and prodding at each other like scientists examining an alien specimen. Eventually, we figured out how to switch back—just hold the stone again and focus on wanting to return. The rush of heat came back, and just like that, we were ourselves again.

After that, we couldn’t stop using it. At first, it was just for fun—swapping bodies to mess with each other or pull harmless pranks. But the more we used it, the more blurred the lines became. I spent so much time walking around in Aidan’s body that I’d catch myself forgetting who I really was.

“Sometimes I feel like I am you,” I admitted one night, lying on my bed with the stone resting on my chest.

“Same,” Aidan said, tossing a baseball into the air and catching it. “It’s weird, right? Like, if someone asked me to describe myself, I’d probably say... you.”

We kept it a secret, of course. Our parents were none the wiser, just like all the clueless parents of twins who love a good switcheroo.

---

As much as the lines blurred between our lives and as much as we got confused about who we even were, the swapping had to end eventually. Aidan and I were inseparable when we were younger—two halves of the same chaotic coin—but by the summer before high school, things had started to change.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. No big fight, no falling out. It just became... necessary. We weren’t going to be doing the same exact activities in the coming year, and keeping track of who we were supposed to be when we swapped got harder and harder. If I was going to band practice in Aidan’s body while he hit the gym in mine, the whole charade started to unravel fast.

It didn’t stop all at once, but yeah, over time, we just kinda forgot about the stone. We tucked it into an old shoebox under my bed and left it there to gather dust. By the time high school really kicked into gear, we were more focused on our own lives than playing at being each other.

Many years later, Aidan and I both graduated from the same state college—though you’d think we went to completely different schools if you compared the photos of us at graduation. I worked hard, grinding through late nights and endless cups of coffee, and graduated magna cum laude. Aidan? He did just fine, but he never stressed about grades the way I did. While I was holed up in the library, he was out partying, making connections, and leveraging his looks to build a portfolio.

At the end, I got a good job—steady pay, benefits, the whole package—but now I can’t shake this nagging question: What was I doing it all for?

The money’s nice, sure. My apartment’s not fancy, but it’s mine. I don’t have to worry about rent. But beyond that? My life feels... hollow.

I don’t have many friends. The few I made in college drifted away after graduation. And as for my health? Let’s just say I’ve let myself go. I spend more time sitting at a desk than I ever imagined, and my idea of a workout is walking from my couch to the fridge.

It’s not like I didn’t notice the weight creeping on, or how my skin doesn’t have that same glow it used to. But the real kicker? When I show people a photo of my twin now—Aidan, who’s living in New York City and working as a model—their reactions sting.

First, there’s the pause. Then their eyebrows raise, followed by an awkwardly polite, “Oh, wow. You two are twins?” And finally, the cherry on top: the sad, conciliatory look. Like I’m a cautionary tale of what happens when one twin wins the genetic lottery, and the other... doesn’t.

I hate it.

Aidan’s life is better than mine now by just about every metric. He’s got the looks, the friends, the job that sounds glamorous even if it’s exhausting. And me? I’m sitting here, feeling like the second-place prize in a race I didn’t know I was running.

---

That brings me to today.

Our parents had decided to move—downsizing, they called it, though it felt more like an end of an era. They asked me to come back and help clean out my old bedroom, and honestly, I agreed more out of guilt than a sense of duty. It had been years since I’d really spent any time in that room, and I figured the whole process would be a couple of hours, tops. Box up some trophies, toss some old notebooks, and call it a day.

But as I dug through the layers of my childhood—the faded posters, the dusty books, the crumpled notes from middle school friends—I found something I hadn’t thought about in years.

The swapping stone.

It was right there in that old shoebox, exactly where we’d left it. The smooth, dark surface felt cool against my skin as I held it, the carvings still as intricate and mysterious as I remembered. For a moment, I just stared at it, a flood of memories rushing back—late nights laughing with Aidan, testing the limits of what we could get away with, the strange, electric sensation of becoming someone else.

But then I noticed something I didn’t remember: a folded piece of paper tucked beneath the stone.

Curious, I unfolded it carefully, my fingers trembling slightly. The handwriting was unmistakable—messy and uneven, like all the notes Aidan and I passed back and forth as kids.

The note read:

We, Aidan and Griffin, agree to swap bodies forever starting today, August 12th, 2010, because we both like each other’s bodies better than our own. We also agree that if one of us wants to switch back, we must do it.

Signed, Aidan Griffin

I read it once. Then twice. Then a third time, my heart pounding louder with every word.

“What the hell...” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The memories started rushing back, faster now, sharper. That summer before high school, Aidan and I had spent weeks talking about how different we were—not just in how we looked, but in how we felt. I remembered the way he’d always envied my leaner frame, how he said it felt lighter, faster, more comfortable. And me? I’d admired his broad shoulders, his confidence, the way people seemed to notice him when he walked into a room.

We must have talked ourselves into it, convincing each other that staying swapped was the solution to all our problems. I could almost hear my thirteen-year-old voice saying, “It’s not like anyone will know, anyway. We’ll just be... happier this way.”

And the kicker? I’d agreed to it. We both had.

I looked at the note again, my stomach twisting.

Shit.

That means... I’m Aidan.

[amphibiahawks321]

Lyney : Come on, this new illusion will leave everyone in awe! Trust me! The risk is worth it

Lynette : Worth it? Worth it for who? If something goes wrong, we'll ruin our reputation, think it through...

Freminet : I.... I'm not really sure I can get the mechanism to work perfectly under pressure...

Lynette : it's alright freminet, you're just being realistic cause it is a lot of work, something lyney should listen to...

Lyney : Wait now just for a second! I'm just saying that–

[Meanwhile, in the other room (Y/N and Arlecchino's bedroom) Y/N trying to fall asleep but can't due to the sound of the three's while arlecchino reading a book]

[Arlecchino starts rubbing her temples]

Arlecchino : Sighs... If they don't stop arguing in the next five seconds, I swear I'm sending those three on separate missions to the opposite ends of tevyat....

M!Reader : Weeeell... I wouldn't go THAT far–

Arlecchino : they've been going at it for an hour and a half....

M!Reader : ......Good point

M!Reader : You can't really blame them too much they're siblings, and that's just... How siblings are, y'know?

[Arlecchino shooting Y/N a sharp look but still with her soft tone]

Arlecchino : Sighs... I get what you're trying to say sweetheart, but you do remember last time when they almost kept us up all night debating which dessert was better right....

M!Reader : H-Hehe well, that was about cake, this seems... Slightly more serious

Arlecchino : Groans Oh of course, very serious, the fate of the world is hanging on what kind of performance they'll have to appeal to audiences, that means the rest of us have to endure their bickering...

[Y/N nudges Arlecchino playfully]

M!Reader : Come on, don't act like you don't care about them

[Arlecchino exhales sharply]

Arlecchino : I never said I didn't care, but caring doesn't mean I have to enjoy their endless squabbling

[Arlecchino glances at Y/N, her expression softening further]

Arlecchino : And right now, all I want is some peace and quiet... With you....

[Y/N smiles warmly as arlecchino brush her hand with his fingers]

M!Reader : I'd like that too, want me to go and cool them down? Maybe i can get them to quiet down–

[Arlecchino immediately grabbed his hand to stop him, her tone firm but affectionate]

Arlecchino : No, you'll just end up getting dragged into their bickering, and I'll be stuck here waiting for you... Let them tire themselves out, you're staying right here...

M!Reader : Chuckles... Leans closer... Bossy as ever, huh?~

[Arlecchino smirking, leaning her head lightly on his shoulder]

Arlecchino : You love it...

[Y/N wrapping an arm around her]

M!Reader : Yeah, I do~

[augustinewrites]

listening to the amurta darshan’s faculty argue over budgets is positively mind-numbing, and alhaitham can feel his brain cells dying off with each agonizing minute that ticks by. 

this is only his second meeting as the acting grand sage, but he’s already looking forward to retiring. he’s been mapping out his retirement plan for the last ten minutes, actually. he’ll move to liyue, build a house on a very, very high mountaintop, and spend his days reading from sunrise to sunset—

“acting grand sage, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

listening to petty squabbles between old men in his capacity as the scribe is one thing, but having to direct the squabbles is wholly another. 

he sits up, doing his best to shake the stupor from his mind before quickly glancing down at the notes his assistant places in front of him. 

“naphis,” he says, genuinely surprised. “you intend to relinquish your position as sage?” 

alhaitham isn’t truly listening when amurta’s (now former) sage produces an explanation. the next step is to find a solution. find a new sage. naphis’ long-winded soliloquy about ‘ushering in the new generation’ and ‘starting anew’ were simply redundant. 

he tunes back into the conversation when naphis says, “i’d like to recommend a former student of mine. tighnari.” 

alhaitham knows tighnari. would even go as far as to say he likes him. “of the avidya forest watchers, yes,” he murmurs. “i will reach out.”

he glances over at you when you shift in your seat, glancing at him with that look in your eyes. the one that tells him you have something you want to say. 

but then one of the faculty members begins a highly dramaticized account of an lab incident in pardis dhyai that “demands” the proper allocation of funds, and he sighs, realizing this will have to be addressed another time.

_____

the next few days are busy, as the shift of power within the akademiya demands near the entirety of his attention. that, combined with his reluctance to bring work home, lead him to follow up with you a week after the amurta faculty meeting. 

“what were you going to tell me?”

“hm?” you roll onto your side to face him, eyes barely open, considering it’s two in the morning. “when?”

he feels bad for waking you, knowing you’re exhausted from a twelve hour shift at the bimarstan. but he’d been penning his letter to tighnari earlier, and couldn’t stop pondering what you’d wanted to tell him last week.

“at the meeting,” he clarifies. “you were giving me…a look.”

“i give you lots of looks,” you yawn, nudging your face further into your pillow. “you are quite handsome.”

“don’t be cute,” he mutters, hoping the darkness of the room hides his blush. “you were looking at me like you knew something i didn’t.”

you blink a few times as the memory comes back. “which time? i give you that look multiple times a day, darling.”

normally, he finds your sass to be quite a turn on. just not when it’s directed at him. “the first time.”

“when you were talking about research grants?”

“not that time,” he frowns. “but— what do you know about that?”

“nothing,” you say much too quickly, but then you lean over, cupping his chin and looking him in the eye. “but when someone so, so pretty and extremely smart submits a grant application…”

“i will set up a private channel just for your submissions,” he promises.

“i was actually talking about kaveh, but that is very much appreciated. we do need new stethoscopes.” you pat his cheek a little harder than necessary, smiling.

“wait, kaveh?” he asks. “really?”

“oh yes,” you nod. “he was talking about an affordable housing project the other night. if the akademiya could spare the funds, he could even move into one of said houses himself…”

“finally admitting you want him to leave?” 

“haitham, he used that last of that face cream i bought in fontaine and keeps moving our furniture around. i don’t just want him to leave, i need him to leave. remember when he organized your bookshelves by colour?”

oh, he remembers, trust him. “i’ll have amani pull his application for review first thing tomorrow.” 

“a most wise decision,” you hum, about to roll back around when he gently grips your arm.

 “we’re not done. i was talking about when i mentioned reaching out to tighnari.”

“oh, that look,” you blink. “he won’t accept the position.” 

his brows raise in surprise, because who in their right mind would deny the role of sage? “and you know this how?”

“because we’re friends,” you tell him matter-of-factly. “and i know he’s made a commitment to lead the forest watchers. he’s doing good work there, along withconducting his research. i doubt he’d want to be saddled with a desk job on top of that. let alone one with the akademiya.”

“okay,” he shrugs. if you say he doesn’t want the job, then he doesn’t want the job. there’s no need to delve further into the specifics. “you know the amurta faculty better than i do. who should i ask?”

this time you send him a flat look, pulling away from him and taking the duvet with you. “haitham, i’ve entertained your poor attempt at pillow talk thus far, but if you wish to continue discussing this so bad, why don’t you go find amani? i’m sure she’d love to spend the night with you.” 

he rolls his eyes, trying and failing to reclaim the duvet. “jealousy is quite the unbecoming trait, you know.” 

“go to sleep, acting grand sage.”

alhaitham shuts up, because, well, you’d titled him. that was a warning sign in itself that he’d deprived you of your sleep for long enough. but you don’t protest as he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, still overthinking. his mind won’t rest until he finds a solution. 

“stop overthinking it,” you mutter into your pillow. “you’ll figure something out. you always do.”

you’re right, he realizes. maybe the solution is right in front of him. 

_____

alhaitham is halfway through reading kaveh’s application when he hears your muffled threats to his assistant right outside his door.

“move, amani. or i’ll make you!”

amani has a much better sense of self-preservation than he thought, because it’s not a second later that his office doors burst open, and you let yourself in. 

“when i told you that you’d figure it out, i didn’t mean this!” you exclaim, waving his letter in his face.

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it in an attempt to placate you, murmuring, “you don’t want to be a sage?” 

“of course i do,” you huff, snatching your hand back. “but— but i’m—”

“the logical choice,” he finishes for you, folding his hands atop his desk. “you obtained two degrees before 25, your thesis on elemental healing techniques is the gold standard, you’re the head of medical and you’re decently versed in botany.” 

“botany?” you repeat incredulously. “so maybe the neighbors are jealous of our garden and tighnari taught me how to use naku weed to make special brownies that one time–”

“they were very good brownies,” he assures you. “and you’re still an excellent candidate.”

you go off again, listing off all the reasons why it shouldn’t be you, but all that alhaitham sees is someone who is brave enough to hold their own in council meetings and even yell at the acting grand sage. you’re perfect.

even you sigh unnecessarily loud, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“i don’t intend to, no.”  

you’re silent for a long minute, clenching your jaw so hard that alhaitham worries for your teeth. 

“i want to make my own hours,” you tell him firmly. “i’m not going to be tied to a desk all day.” 

that was something he could certainly get on board with himself. “fine. anything else?”

“give me the day to think on it,” you shrug, moving to sit on the edge of his desk. alhaitham slides his chair back so your knees fit between his legs. “you really think i can do this?”

“the pros of you being amurta’s sage greatly outweigh the cons, so yes.” 

you fix him with a long-suffering look. “what were the cons?”

alhaitham thought himself an intelligent man, but he very nearly opens his mouth to answer your question before realizing the answer will likely end with him sleeping on the couch tonight. he chooses to keep his mouth shut, earning himself a little kiss before you sign the contract on his desk.

[greenthena]

Why we won't have an Apology Dance in S3--or, why I'm choosing to start WW3

Much as I love the Apology Dance, I have a hunch that neither Crowley nor Aziraphale will perform it in S3. It's such a weird (affectionate) little mating ritual, and I cannot see it without thinking of David Attenborough's "Birds of Paradise" clip from Our Planet. (The little fuckers really get going around the 2:30 mark, if you're interested.)

S2 demonstrates so many of these bizarre little mating rituals. Specifically, I'm thinking about the "Don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions" moment...

...I mean, Goddamn. Someone damn it. Aziraphale is about to climb that demon like a tree.

And the exchange about borrowing the Bentley...

...which is a battle lost before it's even begun because Aziraphale flashes those pretty eyes and Crowley's too smitten to really put up a fight.

Mah point is (dolphins). My point is that every aspect of their interaction, particularly in S2, is a dance, a courting practice, a mating ritual to which only these two weird (affectionate) little birds know the steps.

And the Apology Dance is one of the key steps in this ritual. We know how important it is because Aziraphale has memorized each year when he performed it for Crowley. 1650, 1793, 1941... And Crowley has now reciprocated. But for all the importance of the Apology Dance, we never hear an actual apology. The words, "I'm sorry" are never exchanged between the Ineffables.

Of course, Aziraphale has forgiven Crowley on multiple occasions (have a tissue), but the absolution is never in response to an apology.

Why does this matter, you ask? Because Crowley has never asked to be forgiven. It's one of his self-identifying traits.

And every time Aziraphale offers him forgiveness, it calls into question Crowley's whole identity. I think this is why Crowley initially refuses to do the dance. He doesn't "do the dance," because he doesn't apologize. Because what's the point? If you believe yourself to be beyond forgiveness, why even bother with an apology.

But that's not what's most interesting to me. See, outside of mending his relationship with Aziraphale, I don't think the demon could give a single fuck about forgiveness. On the cosmic level, it's just another carrot dangled by Heaven. The whole concept of forgiveness of sins demonstrates a pretty fucked up power differential. I mean, who gets to decide whether God has forgiven you when She's not even talking?

I think it's fascinating that despite their squabble, Crowley removes his glasses the moment he steps back into the bookshop, performing the Apology Dance in his "naked" face. It suggests that he knows before he even starts that everything is going to be okay. He can approach the situation in a state of vulnerability because he deeply trusts his angel. But the dance, the mating ritual, still has to be completed. It's similar to how Aziraphale knew Crowley would let him drive the Bentley, but they still had to negotiate their way through the motions.

We've called it the Apology Dance, despite the fact that no apology is offered and no forgiveness given. Remember, Aziraphale's response to Crowley's successful completion of the ritual is, "Very nice."

So here's the crux. All these rituals that they perform, the Ineffable dances, if you will, rely on one crucial element. The result of the ritual has to be established before the ritual has begun. They each have to enter the ritual in a state of vulnerability, knowing the outcome will be safe and satisfying. And I think that's why Aziraphale doesn't say, "I forgive you" after Crowley's elegant spin and bow.

Because forgiveness is something Aziraphale only offers the demon when he feels cornered, frightened and unsafe. Think about the two times he's said it. In both cases, the forgiveness was weaponized.

(Apology Dance incoming for this next gif.)

In a very real way, when Aziraphale forgives Crowley, he invalidates his best friend's lived experience. Crowley doesn't want to be forgiven. He wants to be accepted. Loved. Seen.

So as much fun as it is to speculate about who might dance for whom in S3, I truly hope neither angel nor demon apologize to the other. For me, the most meaningful conclusion would be for them to complete their mating ritual not with some dogmatic, pedantic, fucked up power differential where one forgives the other for perceived iniquities. Nah. Fuck that. I want them to accept and love and deeply see one another and fully embrace whatever that means.

Here. Have some tissues.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part two —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 4k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let me establish some things/characters/relationships ya know.

You dream of that house in Norbury. The one you grew up in. Your mother calls you for lunch. You are caked in dirt, fingers just leaving the soil where they’d searched for bugs and worms. Your sister watches in disgust but now she is pulling your arm.

You follow her, bare feet padding the wood floors. The lunch is on the table - pine needles on a porcelain plate. An empty glass which should be filled with juice. Your stomach howls. You look up to ask your mother for something else.

Right before your eyes, she melts into something grey. Maggots bleed from the corners of her eyes. The irises turn white, staring down at you with hunger even stronger than your own.

“Mom?”

Across the table, your sister melts away, too. Her body is mangled to the point that it tumbles to the kitchen floor.

You wake up just as your mother’s decomposed hands grab your shoulders and her mouth finds the crook of your neck.

Your eyes peel open to find darkness.

Not the house in Norbury, just a sheet of black that covers the cold forest. This has become your new home, and likely, your soon-tomb.

You wipe your eyes.

You lean back against the tree which you have managed to hoist yourself in. Sleep finds you again, but this time, the nightmare arrives when you wake up, once more in the form of a rotten smell and hissed groans.

These ones are real.

By the time you awake at dawn, your joints ache. You barely remember how you got up here, or how you got back up after the man and his daughter left. You sat there next to the broken bow for minutes, hours. Then, something moved you. The last piece of your humanness. It stood you up, forced you to find some pine needles to swallow down since meat was now out of the question, and brought you to this tree branch before the night settled.

The sunrise over the white forest is pretty, you think.

But you hear something. Smell something.

You look down and what your eyes find beneath the tree branch is not pretty in the slightest.

"Are you serious?" your numb lips whisper, now fully awake.

Only a few meters below you stand three Greys.

They must have wandered near the tree during the night, catching a waft of your smell from up above. Their tattered heads are tipped back, pale eyes pointed at you. Mindlessly, their arms squabble up towards the branch. But it's too high for them to reach. One of them, once a young woman your own age, pathetically claws at the tree trunk.

The thing with Greys is that they are terrible climbers. That is something they all share because their infected brains cannot muster enough strategy for it. What they don’t share is how long they have been decomposing, and what kind of physique they started out with. For instance, a Grey with a child's body will be less of a threat than one who was once a thick-boned man. Similarly, a Grey who was recently infected will have more muscle mass than one who has been rotting for years.

If you had your bow, you would be fine. But Skull-Face took this from you. Bitterly, you understand why. Who was he to trust that you wouldn't point it at them the moment they turned their backs?

But now there is no way to kill them.

You will have to figure out something else.

You shift on the branch to get a better look.

One looks bigger than the others. It still has some hair left. The others only have exposed skulls and a few clumps jutting out that resemble black worms. The female clawing the tree looks pretty weak and slow. You could probably outrun her. But even if you are faster, the Greys do not tire. They don't have the need for rest that you do, and even after a night's sleep and some pine needles, you are beyond exhausted.

Fuck. He really should have just killed you.

You want to cry. If you were hydrated, you would.

But instead, you carefully stand up on the branch, hugging the trunk to keep your feet steady. You scan the area. You didn’t make it very far from the pond the man and girl found you near.

What direction did they leave in?

You think you remember but even if you run that way, what sort of protection will you find?

You don’t know, but it seems like the best bet you have. Desperation seals this plan in your brain. First, you need a head start, so without much to lose, you shrug off your coat and wait until the three are close together before dropping it over their heads. It’s enough to disorient them, even for a moment, so you can slip down from the branch, scraping your knees at the bottom, and take off.

The cold bites but the adrenaline warms your muscles. Your body feels heavy despite being so thin, but something drives it. Your legs carry you towards the pond and past it.

But it is not long before they trail behind you with grunts and clambered, uneven footsteps. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know that the biggest one is running the fastest. By the sound, there is likely only a ten-meter gap between you and him, living and undead.

It must only be a few minutes before your stamina nose-dives. So little fuel.

They’re gaining on you.

You whirl past trees and snow.

A camp.

A high fence around a small cabin.

The sight is enough to push you forward, energy spent but your instinct driving you. It must be them. You run and run, but then you stop, a gasp slicing through your lungs when your feet just barely stop in front of a deep trench. It is dug around the perimeter of the camp, wide enough to require a jump.

There is no time to think. In an instant, you decide you'd rather be killed by his knife than turned Grey. Bitten.

So you leap across it.

Your boots just barely land on the other side.

You fall from the impact and there is a sudden intense pain as something sharp under the snow pierces your torso and causes your eyes to roll back, fingertips clawing at the frost. A ringing in your ears.

You make out a flurry of sounds: the pathetic moans as the Greys fall in the pit behind you, someone's heavy footsteps crunching the ground, and then a gritted-out “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Then, blackness.

You wake up to the touch of rough fingertips.

"Should be enough. Hand me the knife, Blue."

Eyelids heavy, you see log-stacked walls that form a small living room. Your body lays on what you believe to be a sofa, the sprung cushions so different than the hard surfaces you’ve slept on for years now. Your coat - Paul's old coat - is long gone. You are left with only your soiled shirt, the fabric hiked up just below your breast.

Seconds later, you are aware of the two other people in the room. A girl with mouse-brown hair stands over your head. She hands something to the behemoth sitting on the stool, who is leaning over to inspect your midriff.

Knife.

He will finally put an end to it all. He should have done so the first time. You clamp your eyes shut and inhale, ready for it again, but the stab to your gut never comes. Instead, a soft hand brushes your forehead and you hear the sound of his knife cut something.

"Hey, it's okay. He just finished the stitches."

"What?" you mouth.

"You may or may not have fallen on one of our caltrops," the girl says apologetically with a scrunch of her nose.

Confused, your head shifts against the cushion to look down. You see it now. The wound. Black sutures unevenly close it up, but still, some blood seeps.

“Don't get comfortable. Fixed it for you, but tomorrow you're out." He shakes his head as he speaks in a growl under his breath. "You have some goddamn nerve, you know. Leading those fucks over here."

"I— I had no other option," you croak, but just these few words take so much energy to push through your teeth, and you lean your head back.

"She made a smart choice," the girl comments quietly. Blue. She nudges her father's shoulder and clears her throat. “Come on, Ghost. Maybe she could—"

"No."

A petulant sigh blows up a piece of her hair. She looks back at you and in your half-aware state, her youthful eyes remind you of your long-dead nephew.

You are not awake for even a minute longer before your eyelids flutter shut again.

Blackness.

The next time you awaken they are sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You lift yourself against the couch with a wince, your hand instantly holding your torso. Your shirt has been tugged back down over the wound, and your brain is a bit more aware than before. You look around again, taking in more of this new environment. 

When was the last time you’d been inside a house?

It's a modest cabin, but far homier than the tents of your old camp. There is a shorn rug on the floor and a small stack of board games: Scrabble, Monopoly, Battleship. Against the wall is a steel fireplace, the ash inside suggesting it was recently used. A lamp on the table casts a soft, yellow glow. You notice the outlines of windows that have been boarded up with planks of pine.

When your eyes finally land on the food they are eating at the table, your stomach hisses.

Ghost has his mask inched up so he can chew on a piece of meat. Blue sits on her knees in the chair, scooping her fingers in a jar of peanut butter. Some of it coats the corners of her mouth. He notices and reaches over to swipe a thumb against her lips. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She swallows a mouthful as her eyes curiously drift across the room. They widen when she sees that you are not only awake but trying to sit up.

“Ghost. She’s awake again.”

His response: wordlessly nudging a small plate and mug in front of the free chair at the table. 

Warily, you swing your feet down, nostrils flaring to rake in the smell of food rather than dead flesh this time. Standing is a difficult task, one that causes the muscles around your wound to spasm. But hunger is stronger than your pain. Desperate. Starved. You don’t have it in you to question the situation, not yet.

The small plate truly is small; it looks like he has given you pitiful scraps of things they didn’t want. Stale crackers. The hard pieces of dried meat from an animal you aren’t sure of. But it’s more than you have had in a week. With just how fast you inhale it, there is no time to wipe the crumbs from your lips. 

Blue is staring wide-eyed when you are done. 

You gulp down the mug of water.

“Shit balls. You really were hungry.”

Ghost pulls his mask back over a stubbled jaw and lets out an irritated groan. “I told you to stop with that. What are you even sayin’?”

“And I told you—“ she shoots him a look, tongue poking out. You sit there with your chest rising and falling slowly, each breath requiring more energy than you have. “ —that I like to be creative with it.”

They are talking to each other as if you are not even there. 

“There is no being creative with it. If you’re gonna swear, do it right, yeah?”

A few more bickers. One voice low and gravelly. A cockney accent. The other voice, soft and pettish. But you don’t care to listen. Rather, your eyes stare at your empty plate and you press the tip of your thumb to the crumbs and lick them off like a scrounging rodent.

The moment Blue is done with the peanut butter, a big boot under the table taps the leg of her chair. 

“Time for bed, kid?”

“Dad—”

“Go on.”

He juts his chin in the direction of a small hallway where you can make out the shape of a few doors in the dim light. One must be her room because, with a sigh, she stands from the table and heads towards it, leaving you alone with him.

He is a man who threatened to kill you, and now a man who has stitched you up and fed you.

Tomorrow you’re out.

Sucking in a breath, you look up at him. “What is your game?”

He narrows his eyes. “That how you say thank you?”

“Thank you for what?” your voice rattles through fragile bones. “Keeping me alive for one more day? You should have left me there to bleed out.”

“I should have.”

“So why didn’t you? Are you fucking evil or what?” Your teeth tighten and the muscles of your face clench. “I have nothing. No one. You know I won’t survive out there. What was the point of this— “ you gesture to the spot where your wound lies under the shirt, then to the plate in front of you, “—and the food? There is no good reason to, right?”

“There is no good reason,” he repeats in a murmur. "Maybe I jus’ pity you. You look like you’re one of ‘em already.”

He leans back in the chair as his eyes drag over you. He is covered head-to-toe. Wearing a long-sleeve black shirt and jeans. The mask is just as intimidating as before, a plastic skull sewed crudely to the black fabric and two faded, white lines painted down the chin of it.

Where you’d been terrified of the sight the first time, you are now angered. Your breath quickens through sore lungs.

“I don’t want your pity. I want you to stop being a coward and fucking kill me already,” you say, waving around a bony hand, “...or fucking help me. Make up your mind, but don’t send me out there again to suffer.”

You continue, quieter, wiping your wet nose.

“You can do it now,” a curl at your lips. “She’s not here to stop you.”

Dark eyes flicker away and stare dully at the cabin wall. He is boarded up like the windows. There is nothing to see except for the growing tension in the muscles under his clothes and the way his hands roll up.

The silence is dizzying. It could be fatal.

But finally, he looks back at you.

He pulls his broad shoulders into an intimidating posture before offering his decision in a growl.

“You will sleep outside," and your heartbeat staggers, "You won’t have any of our medicine. You will get food for yourself once that shit is healed. And—“ his voice lowers into something that makes your frail body shiver, his hand moving to grip the table. “—if you lay a finger on her, your neck will be the next thing I break. Understood?”

Your lips part. They close.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean back in the chair. With a gargled gasp, you nod.

“Understood.”

Something soft touches your foot that first morning.

It gently rouses you.

"Hey, I heard you're a part of the team now."

A head pokes into the small shed you've been banished to and sunlight filters in. Groaning, you shift against the dusted floorboards. Your body only fits with its knees bent. Ghost gave you a thick blanket to sleep with, but nothing to lay on. Still, this shed is within their fortification.

You are still alive.

Somehow.

The game of survival has spat you out here, at the camp of a father and daughter. The memory of your first encounter takes the form of a phantom welt on your throat. Could you trust that he wouldn’t change his mind?

It’s not like you have a choice.

"Huh?" is all you can say, looking up at the child who you suspect had great influence on the moments leading you here.

"You know... the team."

Blue smiles down at you. The soft touch to your foot ends up moving right by your cheek. A puffy tail tickles the skin.

"What is—?"

"This is Grim," she says cheerily, and reaches down to pick up what you now see is a chocolate rabbit. "He's a good friend of mine."

"You have a pet?" you ask, rubbing your eyes in surprise. The pain in your torso has faded just a bit. Still, your body feels like a corpse. You sit up and the blanket falls to your waist. You miss the couch.

"Not a pet, a friend," she says. "Come on. Get up."

Painfully, you follow her out of the shed. Now that you are not running away from Greys, you can observe their camp better. It is... impressive. Not only is there the fence and trench outside, but within it is more than you ever had at your old camp. Covered in the snow lays a wood planter, which you assume they use to grow crops in the other seasons. Just next to the house is a large wooden hutch housing more rabbits than you have seen in a lifetime.

Blue leads you there, plants a kiss on the top of Grim's head, and slips him back in.

"You have a lot of friends.”

“They aren’t all my friends,” she says. “Only Grim. The others are food.”

Rabbits for food? It's brilliant. They breed like crazy. Having this food supply at their fingertips means they must not hunt as often as you and Paul had to— which means, fewer encounters with the threats outside.

Ghost is smart.

The mere setup of this place is evidence of how well he understands their needs. And with how well-fed Blue appears, they have not yet struggled the way you have.

But their food won’t be for you much longer. With your lack of a bow, you wonder how you’re meant to hunt.

Instead of worrying about it yet, you ask Blue, “Where is your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, Ghost is cleaning up your mess from yesterday.” She gives a shrug. “And he’s shoveling the trench. Doesn’t really work if there’s snow in there.”

“Why do you call him Ghost?”

You take a good look at her.

Her fair skin covers soft cheekbones, the skin of her rosy lips has been chewed a bit at the corner, and her eyes are truly the opposite of his: full and bright. She thinks the question over for a long moment as if it is something she’s never had to prepare an answer for.

Maybe, there has just never been anyone around to ask.

“He used to play outside with me,” she finally says. “He was in the military, you know? And when he was home, we would play this survival game. Pretend to shoot each other. Climb the trees. He had his codename, so I had to have mine.”

Military. That makes sense.

She continues, eyes flickering down to the herd of rabbits as her fingers brush thoughtlessly over the edge of the hatch.

“When things happened, I just remember him telling me that it was like we were playing survival again, except - you know - not a game this time,” her brows furrow, then she shrugs, “He’s called me by my codename ever since and I usually call him by his. Sometimes Dad fits better.”

“So," you say, "what is your real name, then?”

“I’d tell you," she gives a smile that reaches her blue eyes, "...but then I’d have to kill you.”

It is then you notice that Blue carries two knives on her. One strapped to her ankle, and the other tucked in the belt of her trousers.

Breakfast consists of what you now realize is rabbit. Again, your plate is much smaller than theirs. Ghost feeds you like one would feed a stray dog. You thought it might be awkward, sitting at the table with them. Part of the team. Except, not really. You feel more like a pest.

It's not really awkward apart from the fact that Ghost doesn't spare you even a glance. Blue's curiosity fills the space. She asks for your name. She wonders where you came from and why you were alone, her head tilted and her elbows leaning on the table. You explain your story quietly, shifting your gaze to her dad, and do your best to leave out the gritty parts. She listens, and offers a few gentle "sorry's".

"I can't imagine having a sister," she says when you are done. "And I also can't imagine having to watch her die like that."

Ghost stares at her.

You respond anyway, "I never imagined it, either."

After eating, Ghost leaves to fetch the same blanket he'd given you for sleep. Finally, he looks at you. Dark eyes that have the smallest flicker of disgust as they travel over you, causing your throat to dry.

"You smell like shit. Come on."

You learn that bathing for Ghost and Blue means using a small rag and soap made from resin. The cabin has a bathroom, but there is no running water, so instead, there is a bucket of some collected from a nearby creek. Ghost hovers near the bathroom door for a moment, before shaking his head and leaving you.

The cold water stings. Ghost was blunt but not wrong. You smelled like rot. You drag the rag over your skin and the valleys of your ribs, disgusted by what you see, and have a hard time remembering what your body once looked like. Your wound is still puffy against the stitches. Red, screaming. The small, scratched mirror above the sink shows you a ghastly face. You look away. You use the blanket to dry yourself.

Outside, you find Ghost and Blue playing tic-tac-toe in the snow. It's something you used to do with your nephew, only it was usually one-sided because he was always too withdrawn to care. Blue, on the other hand, narrows her eyes in fierce competition and Ghost sits on a tree stump, his elbows on his knees.

“How come you always get to start, huh?”

“Because,” she sings, drawn out, “Youngest goes first.”

“Doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Remember, Ghost?”

“Jesus, kid. Not even a teenager and you’re already usin’ my words against me.”

"Don't say them if you don't want me using them."

"Just go, it's your turn."

This is how those first few days go.

It is mundane. Games, scattered meals, and walks to the creek for water. You don't join them. Ghost ignores you for the most part except to silently offer bits of food and checks to your wound. His rough fingertips never soften, not for you. He finds your old coat on the second day and gives it back with a cold: M’not giving you another if you lose it. It still smells like Greys.

You feel like an intruder, sticking to your shed most of the time. Blue pokes and prods at you curiously. It is as if she doesn’t know how much she is allowed to interact.

On the fourth morning, she greets you again with a soft wake-up call from Grim and, to your relief, an extra piece of meat that she slips into your palm while whispering: Don’t tell Ghost, okay?

And it's on this day, after breakfast, that the two of them decide to leave the camp to go hunting. Ghost is a big guy. Rabbits alone can't keep up the thick sinew of him.

"You're comin' with us," he tells you, wearing a thick SAS jacket for the occasion.

You almost choke. "What?"

"Your stitches are lookin' fine and you're walking alright." His voice is flat, with an edge to it that teeters towards irritation. "You can get your own damn food."

"I don't have anything to hunt with," you remind him.

He tucks Blue's hair behind her ear before asking her to wait outside.

Then, he disappears into a room down the hall, coming back a moment later with a wooden bow in one hand and a military-grade knife in the other. On his back is a rifle, and in a sheath on his tac pants is a handgun.

He sticks the bow in your hand, then the knife in the other. With wide eyes, you look over the carved wood. It is stronger than your old one, whittled down smooth from oak. Along the curve of it, Blue is etched in all capitals.

"She doesn't use it much," he says, before suddenly, the metal tip of his handgun presses into your torso - the wounded side - and he loops his fingers around the back of your neck, pulling you close.

"Don't even think of trying anything," Ghost growls this warning in your ear, digging the end of his gun hard enough to make you whimper as your healing wound cries out. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. I won't."

taglist:

@cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09

[clangenrising]

Month 17 - Greenleaf

As the group approached the city, Sparrowsway did his best to listen to Scorchplume’s advice. She talked on and on about rules to follow while in the city and he tried to remember them all but there were a lot of them. One in particular made it hard to concentrate on any of the others.

“Oh,” Scorchplume said as they were getting close, “and Goldenstar, when we’re in the city, you’ll have to avoid twining tails with me or using pet names or anything of the sort. No one can know we’re involved with each other.” 

“Really?” Goldenstar frowned sadly.

“Why not?” Floodstrike’s frown was more hostile. 

“Because that kind of thing isn’t okay in the city,” said Scorchplume matter of factly.

“What, having mates isn’t allowed?” asked Sparrowsway, puzzled beyond belief. 

“No,” Scorch sighed, seeming irritated with them. “Cats being mates with someone of the same gender. Or cats changing genders for that matter.” 

“What?!” Sparrowsway and Floodstrike said together. Floodstrike was bristling all over. 

“Easy, boys,” Goldenstar said, “Scorch doesn’t make the rules, she’s just telling us what they are.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Floodstrike hissed. “Why under the stars would those things be against the rules?”

“Because it’s unnatural,” huffed Mystique, the first time she’d spoken the entire trip. “Mollies belong with toms, it’s just biology.” Sparrowsway’s fur prickled with unease at the words. He didn’t exactly know what biology was but he didn’t like the way she said it. 

“Is that what your brother told you?” Branchbark growled venomously. Mystique flinched into herself and dropped her gaze and despite the sick feeling in his gut, Sparrowsway felt bad for her. 

“Hey,” Goldenstar shot Branchbark a stern look. “That’s enough out of everyone, alright? There’s no need to get aggressive.”

“Are you hearing the same thing I’m hearing?” Floodstrike protested. 

“I am,” Goldenstar said, “and I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’re here to find Songdust, not bicker. Let’s save our energy for what’s important.” There was a moment of hesitation where she searched everyone’s faces, Scorchplume joining her with a judgmentally quirked brow. Branchbark grit his teeth but nodded. Floodstrike turned his head away with a frustrated huff. Sparrowsway didn’t feel satisfied at all but he saw the wisdom in Goldenstar’s argument and decided to push his distrust down for now. Russetfrond had taught him better than to get caught up in distracting squabbles. 

“Alright,” he said. “How do we find Songdust?” Goldenstar smiled in relief.

“She’s been gone for a long time,” Scorchplume said, turning forward again, “So she’s either dead, imprisoned somehow, or the Folk took her in. We’ll have to ask around to find out which.”

“We can’t just find her scent and follow it?” asked Floodstrike. 

“The city is as big as all four territories,” Scorchplume rolled her eyes, “maybe bigger. That would take forever and it’s definitely rained since she went missing so we wouldn’t even know where to start. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing and follow my lead.” 

“Okay,” Sparrowsway nodded. 

They passed by a large twoleg nest with a fenced off field full of strange, smelly grazing animals in relative silence. Sparrowsway was still thinking about what Mystique had said, unable to make sense of it. He could tell Floodstrike was doing the same. Scorchplume led them around the nest to a long, wide, gravel path that they followed towards the city for a good, long while under the blazing sun. 

“The scents aren’t as strong as last time,” Branchbark noted, mouth open to taste the air. 

“They were holding battle drills out here,” Scorchplume hummed. “Maybe they’ve stopped.” Mystique’s tail twitched. 

“Let’s hope so,” Goldenstar said. 

“I wish they’d stop hunting in our territory too,” Floodstrike grumbled. 

The city drew nearer and nearer, looming over them, all strange scents and harsh shapes and loud noises. Sparrowsway’s fur started to lift from his pelt just being close to it. He imagined Songdust wandering this place all alone and a mournful frown tugged painfully at the corners of his mouth. The smell of cats grew stronger and where the gravel turned into a thunderpath, there was a strong border marker carrying the scents of many different toms. The group paused for a moment to scent it, uneasy.

Eventually, Goldenstar stepped over the border and the rest of them followed. After another ten or so minutes of walking, they reached the edge of the city proper, where the fences of twoleg nests sat in a mismatched line stretching east and west for ages. Sparrowsway spotted a cat perched on a fence post just before they dropped down, out of sight. 

“They’ve seen us,” Scorchplume muttered. “When you see them, project strength without aggression. We’re not here to fight them.” 

“Got it,” said Branchbark. 

They walked past the first row of nests to find the thunderpath they had been following split perfectly in two and ran parallel to the nests. Sparrowsway shifted his paws uncomfortably on the hot, stone path that ran along the thunderpath like a riverbank. There were barely any trees here and the grass was shorter than he had ever seen a field of grass, leaving no places to hide. 

“This way,” Scorchplume said, starting across the thunderpath. Sparrowsway took a deep breath and followed her. She led the group over a fence and through a pair of gardens then across another thunderpath and so on and so on for several minutes at a time. Every so often, they spotted twoleg kits squealing and playing or stopped to let a monster rush by along the thunderpath. Sparrowsway bristled at every event. His heart pounded like it was going to burst out of his chest. How did any cat bear to live in a place like this?

Then suddenly there weren’t any more fences or gardens, just the thunderbanks and small patches of that same short grass between the thunderpaths and the red stone nests. The monsters only became more frequent, dashing furiously past them only to stop for seemingly no reason before dashing on again. Sometimes, multiple monsters paused behind each other, standing in lines and rumbling as they poured heat from under their shells. 

There were more cats here, many of them with notched ears, lingering around corners and on flimsy looking black structures that clung to the sides of the nests. Sparrowsway even spotted some resting underneath the bellies of sleeping monsters and the sight made his stomach twist in fear. All of the city cats were staring. Some darted off once they spotted the group of Clan cats but most just sat and stared. 

“I can make it from here,” Mystique said as they all paused under a small wooden outcropping by one thunderbank. Sparrowsway, panting in the heat, couldn’t believe his ears. She wanted to go off alone?!

“Are you sure?” he asked, worriedly. 

“Yeah,” the kittypet rolled her eyes and started to step away. “I know how to get to my own house just fine, thank you. I’m a big girl.” Branchbark lashed his tail. 

“Well, alright,” said Goldenstar. “If you’re certain.” 

“I am,” Mystique sighed in exasperation. Starting to stroll away, she called over her shoulder, “Bye, assholes! Let’s never see each other again!” Floodstrike growled under his breath and Branchbark scowled after her but Scorchplume swished her tail to get everyone’s attention. 

“Forget about her,” she said. “We have a mission to take care of. We’re going to cross the road in three… two… one! Go!” Sparrowsway barely managed to draw his focus back in time to join the mad dash across the thunderpath. They raced behind the line of waiting monsters and onto the thunderbank on the other side. Sparrowsway looked back to make sure everyone had made it with them and sighed in relief. 

“How do cats live here?” Floodstrike panted. “This is terrible!” 

“They’re used to it,” Scorch shrugged, barely out of breath. “Come on.” 

She hurried around the corner into a shaded gap between two of the nests and the others slank after her. Sparrowsway, at least, was grateful to be out of the heat and into a relatively sheltered hiding spot. They padded on through the gap, past some large, foul smelling black things, presumably towards another thunderpath. 

“This way,” a voice sounded from behind them and the warriors bristled, turning around. There was some unintelligible whispering from around the corner and then, after a breathless moment, a trio of cats came around the corner. Two of them had notched ears, including the pitch black tom in the lead. 

“Well, look at that,” he said, yellow eyes roving over the group, “they are wild cats.” 

“They’re here with my permission,” Scorch said, pushing her way through the others to stand in front of him. “I am Gingersnap, the exalted-” 

“We know who you are,” said the other notched cat, a calico tabby with heavy scarring on her neck. “You’re Razor’s girl.” 

“I was,” Scorchplume hissed back. “He’s dead now and I’m my own cat.” 

“Rumor has it you’ve gone native,” said the black tom, shifting his weight. Sparrowsway was struggling to follow the conversation. Scorchplume’s posture was stiff despite her casually disdainful expression. 

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” she laughed coldly. 

“Maybe not,” the tom said, “you came to town with a group of wild cats and you smell just like them. That seems like plenty of proof to me.” Scorch was quiet for a moment too long. 

The calico spoke up again. “Where are you leading them?” 

“We’re looking for a Clanmate of ours,” Goldenstar said, stepping up beside Scorchplume. Sparrowsway noticed the way her tail almost reached out for Scorch’s before flicking the other way at the last second. “She went missing here and we’d like to take her home.” 

“So she’s still in the city?” the calico muttered to the third cat, a blue tabby tom covered in dark smudges of grease. 

“Seems so,” he muttered back.

“That’s nice,” said the black tom, “but you’ll need to leave. Wild cats aren’t welcome here.” 

“Watch your tone, Chaff,” Scorchplume bristled, rising on her toes a bit. “You have no right to tell me and my guests what to do.” 

“What, you’re saying these mangy mountain cats are better than we are?” scoffed the leader. He took a step closer, arching his back, and Floodstrike started to growl. 

“I’m saying they will do what I say they will,” Scorch hissed, stepping up, nose to nose with the black cat, “and you will do the same, or else.”

“Or else what?” laughed the tom. “You said so yourself, Razor’s dead.”

“I am still Exalted,” snarled Scorch. Sparrowsway couldn’t help but shiver at the way she spoke.

“Okay, so we won’t touch you,” the black cat pulled back a bit. “Your wild friends are fair game here.” 

“We outnumber you,” Goldenstar growled. “Walk away. This doesn’t have to get violent.” 

“Did you hear that?” the black cat called back to his companions. “The wild cat threatened to kill me!” 

“Guess we don’t have a choice,” the calico smiled, flexing her claws. 

“Listen to her, Jack,” snapped a voice from further down the alleyway. Sparrowsway turned his head to see a tortoiseshell tabby who looked very much like Goldenstar, if a lot older and more grizzled, limping in their direction. She had a scattering of scars across her face and a torn left ear and, judging by her limp, her right hind leg didn’t work quite right. Despite her haggard appearance, the cats they had been speaking to shifted uneasily as she approached. In that way, she almost reminded him of Sagetooth. He stepped to the side to let her pass. 

“Scram before someone kicks your dumb fuckin’ ass,” the she-cat continued as she came to the front of the crowd. 

“Figures you would be a Clan lover, Jo,” growled the tom - Jack she had called him. 

“Figures you’d be dumb enough to pick fights you can’t finish,” glared Jo. “Now run along or I’ll kick your ass myself.” She squared her shoulders and Sparrowsway watched the muscle ripple under her fur. It didn’t seem to be an empty threat. 

Jack seemed to think so as well and with a disgruntled glance at his companions, he turned and headed back the way he had come. The others followed, grumbling to each other. Sparrowsway let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you for that,” Goldenstar said, smiling at the cat who could have easily passed as her grandmother. 

“Eh, it’s no problem,” said Jo with a rugged smile of her own. “Skyraiders are all the fuckin’ same. Lots of talk, no guts.”

“Skyraiders?” Sparrowsway raised his brows. 

“Yeah,” shrugged Jo. “Rudy’s little gang. They call ‘em Skyraiders because Rudy lives on Skyraider Street.” 

“Rudy…” Scorchplume furrowed her brow in thought. “Since when did Rudy have a gang?” 

Jo laughed and started padding back in the direction they had originally been going. “You’ve missed a lot while you’ve been away, miss high and mighty. Come on, I’ll explain everything once your friends are safe.” The patrol looked to Goldenstar for direction. Goldenstar looked to Scorchplume. Scorchplume frowned. 

“I guess it can’t hurt to follow her,” she said. “She’s definitely not Exalted or anything. I doubt she’s leading us into a trap…”

“I think we should trust her,” Goldenstar said, her smile still in place. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“If you say so,” Floodstrike said. They followed after Jo who glanced back with an amused grin. 

“My name’s Jo, by the way,” she said, although it wasn’t necessary. “You are?” 

“Goldenstar. These are my Clanmates, Floodstrike, Sparrowsway, and Branchbark.”

“And your Exalted friend?” Jo quirked one brow knowingly as she glanced at Scorch. 

“Scorch,” she said, casting her gaze up the wall instead of making eye contact. Jo hummed in response and Sparrowsway couldn’t quite place the expression on her face. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” said Jo. “Sorry I didn’t intercept you sooner. My leg ain’t what it used to be.” 

“You were looking for us?” Sparrowsway asked. 

“Oh, yes,” nodded Jo. “A friend of a friend saw you coming in and, well, someone had to get you before those fuckin’ meatheads did.” 

“We appreciate it,” Goldenstar said. “We’re looking for a Clanmate of ours who’s been lost in the city for a few months. She’s a-”

“Yes, yes,” Jo interrupted. “I know Songdust. You’ll see her soon enough.” 

“What?” Branchbark gaped. 

“I told you,” Jo said, “I’ll explain everything once we’re somewhere safe, now get ready, we’ve got to cross the road.” She led them out of the alley towards another thunderpath while everyone exchanged confused but excited glances. Scorchplume chewed her lip, a storm of thoughts behind her eyes, but Goldenstar was smiling ear to ear. 

Sparrowsway couldn’t believe it. They’d already stumbled into a cat who could take them straight to Songdust. It was almost too good to be true! Still, stranger things had happened. Sparrowsway whispered his thanks to StarClan and braced himself for the terrifying sprint between him and his missing Clanmate.

[deathmetalangel]

hi if your taking requests I’d like to request a mid 90s forth-grade x fem skater reader. I could be whatever tbh but she’s like really soft and nice. Idk you could do what ever you think is best <33

IN CHAINS, ENTOMBED (FOURTH GRADE X FEM!READER)

warnings: stevie has mommy issues, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, sad stevie, nothing else really it’s mostly fluff

“from the day you arrived, i’ve remained, by your side, in chains, entombed”

ahhh i just really love fourth grade. i might’ve went overboard a slight bit.

Their friend group was strange, anyone could see that. They varied in ages, most being juniors and seniors with two exceptions. And they drastically varied in personalities. Ray was the oldest and looked out for his friends like siblings, they were all he had. Fuckshit was rowdy and always down for a party to distract himself and stay entertained. Fourth Grade was more aloof, the others called it stupid, but Y/n preferred observant.

Y/n herself was the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, a heart made of gold that shone brightly wherever she went. Ruben was almost condescending at times, he always felt the need to prove himself to Ray and Fuckshit. And Stevie, he spiraled down a dark path for a long time. Until now, he finally returned to the sweet boy they met at first. So eager and just happy to have friends.

They had their squabbles sure, but nothing they’d ever let separate them. The closest out of everyone was easily Y/n and Fourth Grade. She was a senior, about a year older than he was. Yet they’d known each other for years. She’d lived on the nicer side of town, but their dads had been really good friends. Both worked at the DMV, but it’s where their moms worked that changed their living situations. Mrs. L/n was, to be quite honest a spoilt brat of a woman. She was heinous and cruel. Only supported by her husband and her trust fund. Which she spent most of pretty quickly during her college years. But it still kept the family going strong.

Y/n had a surprisingly good work ethic. She didn’t work at Motor like Fuckshit and Ray, but she did work with her uncle at his mechanic shop. It helps to fund her “passion project”. Which is just an old 67’ Mustang Shelby.

Said girl currently sits on the couch in the back of the skate shop, her feet propped up on Fourth Grade’s lap with a book placed in hers. Her beanie is slightly slipping from her head, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “College applications are stupid. They’re all the counselors at school talk about now. I get that they’re important, but I don’t even know If I wanna go to college.” She sighs before shutting the textbook.

Fourth Grade turns to look at her, his usual far off look replaced. She always has his full attention. It doesn’t matter what she’s talking about. He’s gonna listen if she’s the one saying it. “I dunno. You’re smart. College might be good.” Ruben looks at them from the other couch. He was more interested in them than what Fuckshit was rambling about next to him. He liked the way Fourth Grade looked at her. It was, for lack of better words, full of devotion. He never sees that at home.

“Yeah, but where would I even go? All of these colleges are expensive and far away. I wouldn’t wanna leave you or the guys.” Mostly him. “I think I wanna be a mechanic. Sounds stupid huh?” She brushes off her own words.

Fourth Grade shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s stupid.” He mumbles off handedly. Like his words held no weight, what did they mean coming from someone as dumb as him? “I’ve seen your car, you’re good. You should do it.”

Yet his words meant the most to her. “You want to be a director right? You can go to college for that you know. A few colleges with fine arts programs reached out to me too. I think you’d do good.” He never really expected her to remember anything about what he wanted to do. Most of the guys assumed he just didn’t know or was too stupid to care. He pauses, they both think about the cost of it all. “I mean there’s scholarships and stuff. Next year I can help you look into it?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, sweet and genuine. Ruben liked the way she looked at him too. There was no doubt with her, she loved him. Fourth Grade feels himself growing flustered. Y/n tended to do that to him. It was like he was in middle school all over again. She was the one who taught him how to skate. Y/n was so patient and understanding, she still is.

Everyone’s attention is caught by the bell to the front door. It chimes letting them know someone is walking in. The someone was Stevie, the only one missing from the current hang out besides Ray who was helping his mom. He’s a mamas boy, but y/n won’t tell anyone where he’s at. The guys tend to tease. Stevie walks in the shop clearly aggravated. She hadn’t seen him this agitated since last summer.

“Hey Fuckshit can you and Ruben go get some Arizonas and snacks? It’s on me just take this twenty. I don’t feel like going.” She holds out the cash she grabbed from her pocket.

Fuckshit looks up at her and takes the cash. “Hm yeah sure. Only cause you treating ma. I’ll get some different flavors n shit. Come on Ruben let’s bounce.” He clearly didn’t see her true intentions as he walks past Stevie on his way out. Y/n sits up straight as Stevie finally comes over to them on the couch.

“Hey Stevie you okay? It’s just us,” He knew what she meant. Just her and Fourth Grade so he could say whatever he wanted judgment free. He bites down on his lip to stop it from quivering. His nose twitches, she picks up on his tells. Y/n places a gentle hand on Stevie’s arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just sit down, we can talk when you’re ready.”

Fourth Grade watches her tentatively. She was so gentle. Stevie sits down in between the teens before he places his head onto her lap. Y/n looks at Fourth Grade who was watching Stevie carefully. The boy had been through a lot in the time they were friends. He’d grown to care about him a lot. Y/n softly caresses the boys hair. Her best attempt at soothing him.

“My mom she just doesn’t get it anymore. She doesn’t get me anymore. She’s always with some guy, Ian says she used to be like that before I was born. But I thought she’d be better. She’s so preoccupied I never see her. And then she just bugs about stupid shit. I hate her sometimes.” He vents to the pair who don’t pity him, they are just there to console him.

Y/n sighs. “I get it. My moms flighty. Always in her own world. I’ve met your mom, and both times weren’t exactly pleasant or under great circumstances. But, I do think she cares. She loves you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel this way. She isn’t right to put more focus on someone other than you especially when you’re so young. However, she is still entitled to a love life Stevie.” He liked talking to her. She never judged him. Or scolded him. Just let him talk, and would advise him as best she could.

Y/n looks at Fourth Grade, her eyes flicking down to Stevie as if to tell him to say something. He can get that hint at least. “It’s hard for a mom to have a son. My moms weird with me sometimes, it’s different than her having a girl. Ya know? She’s probably just nervous because you’re getting big and growing up.” She smiles at him, his thoughtful answer was more than adequate. He blushes at her smile. She always did encourage him to be smarter than everyone thought he was.

“You and y/n aren’t weird with me. So why is she?” Y/n blushes slightly at the implications of what he was saying. “Y/n you don’t ignore me for Fourth Grade. And you’ve been like in love forever. So why does she ignore me for those guys she’s known for a few months?” Both teens almost were too embarrassed to answer.

Y/n tries to recover as best she can. “We’re a lot closer in age to you than she is Stevie. We know what it’s like to be your age. She doesn’t remember it quite as well. And me and Fourth Grade, we’re not- um. New relationships take more work. There’s a lot more of getting to know each other Stevie. That’s probably why.” She can’t even make eye contact with Fourth Grade who kind of just sits there trying to figure out what she’s saying.

They weren’t dating, but why didn’t she finish her sentence. Was he reading too much into her words? “Can I stay at your house tonight? And maybe Fourth Grade stay over too?”

Y/n smiles softly. She could never say no to Stevie. She gently wipes away a few stray tears from the boys face before responding. “Of course you can stay with me. I’d rather you stay over than be god knows where. And you’d have to ask Fourth Grade if he wants to have a little sleepover.”

Stevie looks up towards Fourth Grade who’s caught slightly off guard. “Can you come too? I like when you’re hanging out with us.”

“Sure kid.” They were really the only ones who actually treated Stevie like a kid. He wasn’t Sunburn the cool skater, he was Stevie the twelve year old. They didn’t infantilize him or belittle him, he was still an equal. But they made sure to remember he was still growing up. He didn’t have to be cool and drink or smoke. He was dorky and that was fine.

Stevie smiles before laying down on Y/n’s lap again. Her fingers gently play with his hair as he starts to fall asleep. Y/n hums a soft lullaby as he does. “He’s a good kid. It’s funny you act more like a mom than a friend to him sometimes.” Fourth Grade whispers while he watches the boy nap.

“I guess it’s just my big sister instincts. And what about you? I swear sometimes he comes to you with his problems more than me or Ray. Fourth Grade I like this girl what do I do? Fourth Grade I need help with a video project for school. Fourth Grade I’m mad at my friend again.” She laughs softly before looking back down at Stevie.

Fourth Grade laughs as well. He did often get tasked with helping Stevie, it was mostly with stuff he didn’t want to ask Y/n about. He cared a lot about what she thought of him. “He’s a bit confused, but he’s only got his mom and his brother. And his brother doesn’t seem like the brotherly type. We’re really the closest he’s got to older siblings. And only three of us are decent influences.” Fuckshit and Ruben were most definitely not good influences. In fact Y/n almost has a heart attack when she finds out Stevie is hanging out with only them.

“You parent him a lot Y/n. And you always manage to get me roped into it.” Fourth Grade chuckles softly. “No wonder he thinks we’re dating.” He mumbles the end. Afraid of the weight of his words.

Y/n pauses. “I mean, we do kind of act coupley. I wouldn’t be surprised if more people thought we were dating. I don’t really care. I’m comfortable around you.” This was her way of putting the ball in his court. Fourth Grade pauses. He looks at her and just thinks. Jesus she had him whipped. Ever since he met her he’s been following her around like a puppy.

Yet, he really didn’t want it any other way. He liked being around her. Y/n was kind, but not ignorant in the slightest. She was intelligent and so fucking sweet. He fell more in love with her little by little, he was entombed by her very being. “You scare off any girls I might get, you know that right?”

She giggles. He wasn’t serious, but he wasn’t lying either. “Like you don’t scare off guys. ‘Don’t talk to her she’s with that tall lanky guy’. I hear pretty well you know.” Fourth Grade smiles.

“I mean if we’re ruining each others chances of ever dating someone, why don’t we just actually date?” Her eyes widen. She hadn’t actually expected him to be so up front. Fourth Grade never said anything this forward. He usually stuttered and rethought his words mid sentence.

She looks into his eyes. She could tell he was being genuine, perhaps that was what compelled his bluntness. “Are you asking me out Fourth Grade?”

He scratches the back of his neck almost awkwardly. “Uh-yeah. I mean. If you wanna.” And there was the Fourth Grade she knew. Y/n smiles before gently kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to.” She smiles before placing her head on his shoulder. Leaning onto him while Stevie napped comfortably in her lap. “I love you, you know. I have since we were kids.”

His face was almost bright red. Fourth Grade swallows hard. “Y-yeah? If I’m being honest you’ve had me since we met. Especially after you taught me to Ollie.”

She smiles at the memory. “I don’t think Fuckshit is coming back with my money.”

Fourth Grade wants to laugh, he quiets himself into a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t think so either. It’s okay though. We can just relax. Just us.”

Y/n mumbles something before slowly dozing off with her head still resting on his shoulder. Fourth Grade looks down at her, still in awe of the girl before him. He’d do anything for her. And he knew she’d do the same. That’s just how she was, the kind of person she was. The person he was so irreparably in love with. And by her side he’d remain.

[honey-words]

what are we? — todoroki shoto x reader

prompt: "i'm sick of playing this game with you." "what game?" "the game where we pretend we don't like each other." college au

word count: 530

“Shoto’s coming.”

“Shit.”

You scrambled to your feet from your previously comfortable position on the armchair, searching desperately for a way out. Tsyuyu just watched you from above her book, eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Tsyuyu, do you know if—” he stopped when he saw you, eyes narrowing. “What’re you doing?”

You crouched down further behind the armchair, as though you could disappear into the bookshelf behind you. “Nothing.”

He paused and you stayed frozen in your position, waiting to see what he’d do. But he ignored you, turning back to Tsyuyu to ask about some homework problem they’d been working on the day before.

They kept talking, Todoroki taking the armchair across from you next to her. Refusing to backdown and abandon your corner of the library, you settled back into your seat and went back to your book, soon becoming lost in it and forgetting he was even there.

Until you realized it was a bit too quiet, even for the library. Tsuyu usually listened to music, and her headphones were a little broken so you could always hear a little bit of it playing. But that familiar muted sound was gone. You put your book down and looked up to meet Todoroki’s gaze. He quickly looked away, back to his own book. But you’d caught him.

“What’re you looking at?” you snapped, face warming.

He didn’t respond.

You huffed, picking your book back up. You considered leaving, but really, he should be the one to leave. This was your corner.

“I’m sick of playing this game with you,” he said. Just as you were getting back into your book. Really, the nerve of this boy.

“What game?” you asked, deciding to humor him.

“The game where we pretend we don't like each other."

You nearly dropped your book. But your recovery was quick.

“Like you? Me?” you covered your smile with your hand.

But Todoroki’s gaze was unwavering. He furrowed his eyebrows a little, as though you were doing something confusing. He was the one being weird—your reaction was perfectly sane.

“Yes.”

You stared back. If this was a challenge you weren’t going to lose.

“And what makes you say that?”

“If you wanted me gone you would’ve gotten rid of me ten minutes ago.”

It’d been ten minutes? Had you really been sitting peacefully with him for that long? Normally you couldn’t go five minutes without squabbling with one another. It drove your friends crazy.

You couldn’t really remember when it had started, only that you weren’t going to be the one to back down.

But this had caught you off guard, and you saw Todoroki’s eyes flicker with amusement as he stared back at you. “Realizing, are we?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you huffed, picking your book up and holding it over your face to hide from his view. Was it warm in here?

“Okay,” Todoroki said. Was he smiling? Why could you hear it in his tone? “Then you won’t mind if I stay?”

“Do what you want,” you replied, waving a hand at him. Still not trusting yourself to put the book down.

“I always do.”

masterlist

[alluringlight]

Alhaitham x Reader

Warnings: NOT pre-established relationship, can be read platonically, Alhaitham is overstimulated and very heavily implied to be neurodivergent, reader is also implied to be ND at the end, fluff or kind of hurt/comfort? it's just haitham getting overstimulated by everyone at the Akademiya and reader stepping in to give him a reprieve, also no (Y/N) or [Name] used you're just referred to as 'you' so it is gender neutral

WC: 1191

Anyone could tell that the Acting Grand Sage was uncomfortable. Or at least, that was your reasoning as to why you stepped in. You didn’t know Alhaitham that well, having only dealt with him through paperwork and never actually having met him face to face before, so you were a bit nervous about being presumptuous…but with how uncomfortable he seemed, you put aside your pride and told yourself you were simply helping out a regular colleague. 

As for his part, Alhaitham was having a disastrous day. His soundproof earpieces were broken, courtesy of a drunken squabble with his roommate the previous night, and everyone in the Akademiya was getting on his nerves. The voices of hopeful scholars and researchers seeking funding had been drilling into his brain since early in the morning, and he had a pounding headache, not to mention how bad his ears hurt since everything was so loud. He had forgotten just how sensitive they were, having taken his peaceful existence with his earpieces for granted. Once more, he had been stopped by a researcher, on his way back to his office, so now he stood in the hall, pretending he had any interest in the person in front of him. Internally, he just wanted to bang his head into the wall; he knew he was being irrational, which made him feel even worse since logic and rationale were his own slice of divinity. 

“Excuse me, so sorry to interrupt,” You sidled up to the two, immediately capturing the attention of the researcher that you cut off, you gave him an apologetic look as you continued speaking. “I’m going to have to steal the Acting Grand Sage from you; we’ve got an emergency meeting that you’re going to make him late for.” 

“What?! We’re having an important conversation, I’m sure you can wait just a few minutes. You can’t just demand his presence.” The researcher was getting on your nerves, sure you were lying, but he didn’t know that, yet he was still being so rude to you. 

“Look, I know and I apologize, but this meeting was tabled last week due to scheduling conflicts and today’s the only day this week we’ve managed to squeeze in the time.” You tried to give the guy an apologetic smile, but he was getting on your nerves enough that it was a bit hard to muster up. 

The guy scoffed, “Surely, since this meeting was tabled in the first place it can wait a few minutes.” 

Your smile dropped and you eyed him, giving him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t want to do this, but I will pull rank so to speak if you won’t let this go. As most situations are, this one has only gotten worse as it’s been put off, so I’d appreciate it if you let it go. I’m sure if you write up your request and send it through the proper channels it’ll get to the Acting Grand Sage all the same, if you want you can put the request in my office’s mailbox and I’ll deliver it to him myself.” 

The researcher seemed to shrink in on himself a bit, and you knew you assumed correctly, he was needling Alhaitham now since whatever request he had couldn’t go through the regular channels, or it had already been shot down. As he stuttered over himself apologizing for delaying your meeting, you gave him another easy smile. 

Alhaitham watched the exchange patiently, he didn’t want to interfere as he didn’t want to talk and in general he didn’t know you that well, but he knew you had worked with the matra before on a couple of plagiarism cases; he distinctly remembered Cyno mentioning you in relation to a recent case. Since the General Mahamatra himself trusted you, Alhaitham followed you, although begrudgingly as he really just wanted to make an excuse to leave early. In all honesty, he had no idea what meeting you were talking about, but he could care less if it at least got him away from that incessant guy. 

You easily detached the Sage from the researcher, once again waving at him in apology as you tried to look like you were rushing off to do something important. You didn’t say anything at all to Alhaitham as the two of you quickly walked to your own office. It was cozy, with a small two-seater couch in addition to the large desk that was laden with your work. You said nothing as you closed the door and then made quick work of shutting the curtains and turning on the small desk lamp, leaving the small sofa in semi darkness. 

“Uh…I should have some…?” You spoke mostly to yourself, as you were slightly nervous at having the Acting Grand Sage in your office, but you dutifully dug around in your desk until you came upon your own ear defenders. “Here, they’re probably not as comfortable as your earpieces, and they aren’t completely soundproof, but they should work. No one will bother you in here and you’re welcome to lay down if you want. I’m just going to be working on paperwork, but if you need background noise you’re welcome to root through my spin crystals to find one to play.” You didn’t give it much else thought, and settled into your desk chair, easily finding a rhythm as you started scribbling through your work. 

Alhaitham stood there for a long second before he snapped himself out of his stupor, sliding the headphones on and settling onto the couch, propping his head up with an arm and closing his eyes to give them a rest. 

His immediate thought was that you wanted something from him, and consequently wanted him in your debt, but as he glanced at you through squinted eyes, he discarded this notion. The fact that you weren’t paying any attention to him gave him relief, you weren’t analyzing him to make sure he was grateful, and he was finally getting his first reprieve of the day. Although he was very much caught off guard by your kindness, it was much appreciated. 

Alhaitham couldn’t help by briefly think of why this kindness was unusual to him; as a child growing up, acting more adult than boy, not being able to stand loud conversations, not being able to tolerate eating soups or bread that was soggy, he was called a difficult child by those who looked after him - his teacher, his neighbor, but never his grandmother. She always retained a kindness, simply saying his brain worked in a different way than her own, so of course he had different ways of acting and different ways of thinking. 

Alhaitham couldn’t help but also come to the hypothesis that you too were different like him; how else would you have spotted him shutting down whereas everyone else saw his normal, stoic exterior? How else would you have been able to help? Or give him peace and quiet for once when everyone seemed to clamor for his approval today? It made him appreciate your quiet presence, diligently scanning through papers and signing as needed, all the more. 

[sunnikos]

Day 4: Beast AU

Hello! I am participating in Sskk Week 2024. I have no clue if I’m even characterizing them right because it’s been a few months since I read beast. I hope it at least makes sense for their characterization in beast? Welp, this is day 4, enjoy!

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 999

| Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 |

Atsushi has Kyouka. They are closer than clothes are to your body. They have each other, and once, that was all they had. Now Atsushi has Akutagawa too. Or, will… they’re sort of inevitable like that. They squabble and argue, but they both would risk their lives for one another. That’s the weird, fucked up relationship Dazai created when he left them behind. Now they make homemade syrup on the weekends and try to kill each other every time they spot each other. It’s odd, but it’s theirs.

In the wake of the death of the Port Mafia, Chuuya has taken over. And subsequently cried every single day since. Kouyou has been guiding him and providing support best she can, but she can’t run the mafia for him. He asked her but she refused. Many times.

Akutagawa is in a cast, so Kyouka put pause to their childish beefing. Thus, Atsushi is bringing the pissy manbaby Kyouka’s homemade soup. Kyouka really is too kind. Having to see Akutagawa on his one day off of the week is honestly a drag, but Atsushi knows that Kyouka would be disappointed in him if he didn’t. So, he’s outside Akutagawa’s dorm, still warm container in his hands, burning them to a temporary pink shade. He knocks on the door and it takes forever to open. The knob jiggles quite a bit before opening to a scowling Akutagawa.

“I brought soup.” Atsushi says, holding it out to Akutagawa.

“Set it on the counter.”

“Awfully demanding for someone without a functional right arm.”

“Do you have something to say to me?” Akutagawa confronts.

Atsushi sighs and remembers Kyouka before shaking his head and saying, “No.” setting the container of soup on the counter, then making a move to the door.

“Would you like some tea?” Akutagawa asks.

“Why? It’s not like you can make it for me.”

Akutagawa gives no indication of annoyance, “You’re right, I’d like some tea, make it for me.”

Atsushi seethes silently, but moves to boil some water instead of arguing.

After tea is served, Akutagawa hums, blows on the drink, and takes a sip.

Atsushi sits calmy across him, “Happy, your highness?” his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes, I’m quite pleased.”

“Why do you answer everything so seriously?”

“Why do you never mean what you say?”

They both quiet after that, Akutagawa, enjoying his tea, and Atsushi, wishing Kyouka had never sent him on this stupid quest.

Akutagawa sighs and sets his tea down, “You didn’t make the soup, did you?”

“No.”

Akutagawa sighs in relief.

Atsushi balks, “I can cook you know.”

“I’m sure you can, I simply don’t trust you not to pull something.”

“You know Kyouka asked me not to.”

“Well, you’ve always surprised me.”

Atsushi raises his eyebrows, the shock is written on his face.

“What? It’s not a secret.” Akutagawa says.

“I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” Atsushi finally takes a sip of his tea.

They sit in silence once more. Sipping tea. Then, once they’re finished, Atsushi gets up, and leaves. Then the next day, Kyouka sends him over with sweets. What candy will do for the man, Atsushi does not know, but he would do anything for Kyouka. And so he does this. the bag handle sits in his hand quite comfortably, however it is not warming. There is no heat here, just a bag of sweets.

When Akutagawa comes to the door, he just sighs and says, “Is this going to become a routine?”

“That depends on Kyouka.”

“Ah yes, your sister is my savior.”

“Yours is quite lovely too.”

“You shut your mouth.”

“You make it hard to do that, have you tried being less annoying?”

“Have you?”

“I’m working on it.”

“…right.” he’s skeptical, “Well, what did Kyouka send me this time?”

Atsushi holds out the bag, “Just some candy.”

Akutagawa takes it with his working hand and walks over to set it on the counter with a sigh.

“You were so eager to show off your cooking yesterday, want to take a stab at it now?”

Atsushi considers it, then asks, “What’s in your fridge?”

“Go and take a look.” Akutagawa gestures to the fridge and takes a seat.

Atsushi nods and has a peak, then decides that Akutagawa is actually not too bad a grocery shopper. There’s a chance this is someone else’s handywork, but who would just leave the ingredients when Akutagawa can’t cook it? As Atsushi admires the produce, he thinks of the tools he’ll need to cook them. A knife, cutting board, a pan, some oil, maybe he could use the oven too? Roasted veggies are probably better for recovery, right? Yes, so scratch the pan. And there’s some tofu too, maybe he can just fry that then wash the pan while the vegetables cook in the oven.

After coming up with a plan, he searches the kitchen for what he needs. As he’s chopping, he remembers he’ll need to get some spices out. Since seasoning will surely improve the edibility of the meal, and maybe Akutagawa’s comment about him being unable to cook—well that wasn’t what he really said, but he surely implied it—had gotten to him. When all the cooking’s done, Atsushi serves Akutagawa the meal.

“No poison?” the man asks.

“Do you want me to eat it for you to check?” Atsushi snarks.

“No, I’ll be quite alright, I’ve built up an immunity to most poisons anyhow.”

“Noted.”

“You vex me.”

“I feel the same.”

Then, Akutagawa takes a bite of his meal and pauses for a good while.

Atsushi raises his eyebrow and prompts him, “How’s it tasting?”

“It’s… edible.”

“Oh come on, admit it’s good! I’m a good cook.”

“You’ve done well enough.”

“Why are you like this?”

Akutagawa looks away and takes another bite.

Atsushi sighs and relents, “Fine. But you’ll have to ask me if you want me to make you anything else in the future. And you better be extra polite about it.”

“…If you wish.”

[grifff17]

Audiodrama Sunday 04/28/24

So much stuff this week! I think this is going to be my longest writeup yet!

@camlannpod what the fuck? Trying to avoid spoilers, but the ending of that episode was wild. The sound design for the last scene was so good. Also “You're good with an axe, right?” was brutal, I audibly said "oof". Only 1 more episode in the season, hopefully they get funding for a second one.

The first episode of @wanderersjournalpod came out this week. This was a promising start to a new show, I'm excited to see where it goes from here. The setting feels very mystical, I can't wait to learn more about the world.

@worldsbeyondpod was so tense. Suvi and Ame had the most awkward conversation in existence. This story has so much nuance, neither of them are clearly in the right, though I feel inclined to take Ame's side due to the "Geas + Alter Memory" double espionage scheme. Meanwhile Ursulon discovers that Orima of the Reaching Green is a short queen and gets a cool horse.

I'm now up to date with @lostterminal. Season 15 was great. I love Nia, and Daphne and Raffi were really interesting new characters. Also, the dragon was terrifying. This show doesn't usually have very much action, so the confrontation with it really stood out. The description of the automatic turret going "click, click" as it locked on to Maddie was so intimidating.

@worldgonewrongpod I loved this episode. The storytelling felt so natural and real, like someone telling me a story about a weird road trip they went on. I think I said this about the last episode too, but this was my favorite episode yet. It also sets up the backstory which was never really explained as to why Jamie and Malik are separated at all.

In @midstpodcast we finally had a nicer episode. No horrible fucked up Weep/Trust stuff happening, just Lark reunited with Zeila and Sherman. However, there's so much tension between these characters. I was surprised that Lark forgave Sherman for selling her out. Something to remember is that Lark and Sherman had been hooking up before everything went to shit, which was mentioned once and I think really changes their relationship.

New @keepitsteadypod! This is the first new episode of this show since I started doing these. This was a really cute episode. For how popular fake dating is as a trope in fandom spaces, you don't see a lot of it in audiodramas.

Fun episode of Mission Rejected this week. It was cool to see Bowden go from "vain actor" to "badass spy" when the stakes ramped up. We don't get to see him take charge very often, it was neat for him to be a competent leader. I wonder if the gang lying to Zelda(who definitely saw through it) and Chet(who probably didn't) is foreshadowing for more of a conflict with the new Secretary of Defense later in the season. Also I loved the squabbling gay couple running an illegal mining operation as the villains of the week.

@breakerwhiskey episode 200 wow. A letter from Harry! We learned that Harry has been listening to most of Whiskey's broadcasts, which recontextualizes a lot of the previous episodes. Also, the end was heartbreaking.

I started season 2 of @longcatmedia's Mockery Manor! I'm 2 episodes in and really like it so far. JJ and Bettie are employed in different parks, JJ is on the run from an organized crime ring, and Bettie became a monk? Also, it's clear that neither Hilda nor Jenkins stole the shipment, neither of them have motive. But I don't know who else would have motive either. Lots of mysteries this season.

Spout Lore had a great planning episode. I'm excited for the "saving Highspear" arc, the Highspear is so cool as a concept. A reverse Tower of Babel, that lets the whole world talk with each other. A literal monument to wizard hubris, which feels destined to fall. However I doubt it will, because, as the players mentioned, it would be really annoying from a storytelling perspective if everyone suddenly spoke different languages. This has actually made me realize I really want a story set shortly after some sort of "fall of the Tower of Babel", where communication is a struggle, but that's just because I think linguistics is cool. Anyways, the buffet talk had me rolling.

What a great week! However, it did not help my queue, which continues to grow instead of get smaller. I'll reach the end of it one day.

[fangirlstorycreator]

Ck Terry Silver X Reader

Context: First you were enemies....but now he was about to be your lover...😏 Part 2

A few weeks had passed, and neither you, Daniel or Johnny had heard anything about Terry Silver, or any devious plans he had set in place. Unfortunately, Terry wasn't the one you were going to have an issue with next....You, Daniel, Johnny and Chozen were checking out the garden area of Miyagi Do, seeing if there was anything you and them could do to improve the areas some of the students would normally train in. "If you see hear, this wooden board could do with a bit of a polish"

"Yeh right Larusso, it wasn't polished last time I got on that thing, I slipped and fell right into the water" "You didn't have very good balance that day Johnny" "And your teaching wasn't the best either. Remember that stupid thing you said to me when I fell in?" "It wasn't stupid, all I said was, the best form of defence, no be there" "Exactly...stupid" You can't help but chuckle with Chozen as Daniel and Johnny squabble like two children. "Alright that's enough you two, your acting like a pair of kids" "Yeh but-" "No buts Johnny" "Ugghh fine!" Johnny hufs, but that just makes you and the others smile, Johnny wasn't always subtle with his body language.

Chozen taps you on the shoulder while pointing out an area in the back of the garden, he says "You know what I think we could do over there-" "Sam?!" Daniel says in a worried voice as his daughter Samantha runs over to him and the rest of you. She looks panicked, you wonder what could have made her feel so upset and distressed. "Sam? Are you ok? What's happened?" "Dad-dad I'm ok, but it's Tory!" "Tory? What's happened to Tory?" Sam tries to get her breath back a bit, when she speaks again, she says one name. "Sensei Kim" Johnny looks uncomfortable "Sensei Kim? What did that evil b#tch do this time?" Daniel rests his hands on Sam's shoulders to try and ground her, make her feel a little more comfortable. "She hurt Tory, dad" "She what?!" Daniel asks surprisingly. "She was locked in cobra kai with Sensei Kim and Silver...and she wouldn't let her leave until she punched a whole through a training dummy, made of stone!" Everyone including you were completely stunned at this news, this was way to far, who could do that to an innocent young girl? Daniel says "Are you sure?" "Yes dad! Kim pushed her and pushed her until Tory tried to hit Kim in response, only for Kim to move so Tory's hand struck the stone dummy and she broke her hand! Actualy broke it! She's wearing a cast after going to the hospital! And the whole time, Sensei Silver did nothing to stop Sensei Kim or help Tory!"

All of them are shocked, except for you. You are shocked, but more than that, your angry...it was extremely rare for you to get angry, especially with this much rage you were feeling, and Johnny could see it in your face. "Y/N, I know that look...take a breath-" "This...Kim...made a young girl break her own hand, and this old b#stard did nothing to stop this or help Tory....and your telling me to take a breath?!" You could feel a rage that felt like it was burning inside you, them inflicting pain on a poor young girl was it! You manage to say to all of them "I'm not letting her get away with this" You turn to storm away, when Daniel quickly grabs your arm. "Y/N wait! I've seen how strong Sensei Kim is, if your going to take her on your going to need all of us-" "No I won't....trust me Daniel, she's never dealt with someone like me, she is about to have one rude awakening!" You shake your arm out of Daniel's grip and storm off towards the Cobra Kai dojo with a fierce determination. "Uhh, Johnny?" "Yeh?" "Have you seen Y/N like that before?" "Just the once..." "What happened?" "3 men broke into our aunts house, and she had that very same look when they threatened my aunt" "What did she do?" "Well....all 3 men were broken, and by the time the police arrived they were all hog tied with her standing next to them with a look that could kill"

"Holy crap.....how old was she?" "The men were in their 30s......Y/N was 17" Daniel and Chozen go as white as sheets. Johnny scratches his head and starts walking quickly in the same direction from where you went. Chozen shouts to him before he's gone "Johnny, from what you told us she probably won't need help" "I know that! But I want to catch it on camera!" He shouts back with a smile before running after you. A few minutes later, your still storming towards the dojo, and it's now just across the road when you hear Johnny run up against you, that doesn't stop you storming to the dojo though. "Y/N wait up!" "Your not going to stop me Johnny" "I'm not trying to....can I watch?" You knew how much he hated both Kim and Terry, so you just nodded, despite the anger you still felt. You reach the door and kick the door down, storming inside and start searching for Kim, Terry too but Kim was the main target. You can't find either of them in the training rooms, so you storm to the office, and kick that door open too, revealing Terry sat behind his desk, and Kim is standing talking to him. "Well? Who is this woman Terry? And what is she doing-" You dont give her a moment to finish that sentence before you punch her right in the face. She tries to block you, but your far to fast for her, you strike with your fist and knock the wind out of her chest. You strike again with your leg, kicking her against the wall with a tremendous thud.

You grab her by her long plaited pony tail, and pull her up making her cry out in pain. When she tried to strike you once again, one knee to the stomach brings her to her knees, where you grab her arm with your free hand, hold it behind her back and and pin her to the floor, all while Johnny watches with a smile and his phone. Terry on the other hand....was a mixture of feelings, frustration for you barging into his dojo, confusion as to why your targeting Kim....and yet...he was incredibly impressed. "Get off me you crazy!-" "You say a single word to me you evil b#tch, and I'll rip this pony tail straight out of your f#cking head!" Terry can see the pure rage in your eyes, he knew you were clever, cunning and a definite match for him. However, he had yet to see how you physically performed when it came to karate, and he sat there, watching you, feeling more and more intrigued by you.

"So miss L/N?....Do you care to explain what your doing in my dojo? And why you are putting my best fighter to shame?" You meet his gase, pure rage in your eyes, Terry just looks focused on you, with the hint of a smile. "Do YOU care to explain to me, what the f#ck is going through your mind when you think it's acceptable to allow this WITCH to scare an innocent young girl into breaking her hand?! AND YOU DID NOTHING ABOUT IT?!" Johnny is standing in the corner recording the whole thing, looking like he should be eating popcorn.

Kim groaned and said "I can train my students in any-OUCH!" "Don't think I won't rip this out! Shut the f#ck up! I was talking to the old man over there!" Terry chuckles a little, loving your stern bravery. "ANSWER ME SILVER!" Terry looks at Kim, Kim is giving him a pleading look, as if she wants him to help her, but he doesn't, he's far more interested in you. He stands up, walks out from behind his desk and takes a few steps towards you, stopping just a few feet away. "The thoughts going through my mind when that happened?....I was thinking that my number one champion needed to learn how prioritise her future, focus on what's important to the dojo. It's her responsibility to keep her title-" "NO! Your number one champion is a young girl! She is a child! TORY decides what happens with her future, not you! You can't force her to do karate, it's HER choice! And saying it's HER responsibility?! Do you hear how deluded you sound?! It's a Sensei's responsibility to train their students with trust, care and understanding! Not fear, abuse and physical pain! Sensei Kim made her do this, but you are just as responsible for not stopping her! Or letting Tory go!.......You are not worthy of being a Sensei.....your a disgrace.....and so is this thing" You say before throwing Kim to the floor, still staring Terry down.

Kim stands, just about and hobbles over to Terry's desk, bloodied nose and bruised. Terry pays no attention to Kim, which really pisses her off, instead Terry takes a step closer to you, trying to be intimidating, but secretly, he likes being this close to you, but why? Smiling at you, he says "Miss L/N.....you intrigue me.....your strength, your determination.....I like it" You still feel a deep aggression, and you step up to him, still staring him down, not blinking and not caring that he's impressed by you. "You listen to me you psychopathic b#stard.....what you did to Tory was unforgivable.....if you and that psychotic b#tch want an easy and comfortable life....you will know not to f#ck with me. Close down your dojo, let all these children finds dojo that will to help them, not abuse them. Stay away from them, their families. My friends and family, and if I ever hear you are doing anything to try and manipulate or hurt anyone else ever again...trust me, what happens to Kim will happen to you on a MUCH higher pain scale.....you will regret the day you met me, do I make myself clear?" Johnny is stunned into silence, Terry looks deep into your eyes, it would seem that he is now genuinely worried about what you are capable of if he doesn't listen to you. "I said, do I make myself clear?!"

Terry nods. You turn to leave with Johnny, but just as your about to leave the office, Terry says "Your incorrect on one thing though miss L/N...." Your turn, still angry. "Despite what happened....I don't regret meeting you...." You just turn your nose up and him before you leave the dojo with Johnny, all while Kim is absolutely fuming at Terry. "Why didn't you do anything or say anything Silver?! She attacked me and all you seemed to was focus on her! What's wrong with you?!" Terry smirks "Noone has managed to beat you in a fight have they Kim?" "Yes? So?!" ".....She did" "I don't care! What are you going to do?! Are we going to fight back?! Attack her when she's-" "No" "No?" "We aren't going to attack her"

"WHAT?! She's crazy! She said you were unworthy of being a Sensei! We can't just-" "Enough!......She was right.....I am unworthy of being a sensei....I've been blinded by my own greed that I allowed one of my students to come to physical harm" "Tory deserved it Silver, she needed to-" "Get out" "Excuse me?" "I'm firing you, get out" "You can't fire me! Your seriously doing what she said?!" "I needed a wake up call, and she was it. I won't allow anymore of my students to suffer for yours and my issues. Get your things and leave, get out of my dojo!"

"You invited me to your dojo and now your just kicking me out?!"

"I'll pay for your flight back home, just get out!" Kim brushes herself down before storming out of the dojo office, grabs her things and slams the front door behind her, so hard that is breaks off a part of the door. Terry slumps into his office chair, hiding his face in his hands before he ran his hands over his smooth silver hair, holding the back of his neck as he rested his arms in his knees. He had finaly been shown what a psychopathic cruel man he was being, he knew he couldn't change himself, but he didn't want to be hated by you....everyone else he didn't care, but his students.....and you. He couldn't do it anymore, he knew he couldn't win against you. You were cunning, clever, strong, an incredible fighter, strong willed and determined....quite a bit like him. Maybe that's why he admired you so much? Why he found you so compelling? That and the fact that he had only met you twice, and inbetween both occasions, you had constantly stayed on his mind. You entranced him, bewitched him....he thought you were the most stunning woman he had ever met, and the image of you in that dress, has been etched in his memory. He headed your warning, and now he was going to do something about it.

That night when you got back, you just entered Daniel's house and went straight into their little gym, you needed to release some tention. Johnny however was more than happy to fill everyone else in on what happened, and showed the video he took of you taking care of Kim. When you eventually wound down from your anger, you came out after a shower and spoke to all of them around the table at dinner, discussing what happened and what could possibly happen in the future after the events of the day. The next morning, you, Chozen, Daniel and Amanda were all sat to the table having a coffee when Johnny ran into the house looking excited. "Guys! Guess what I've seen?!" Daniel shrugs "I don't know Johnny, but does it really need you shouting so loud?" "F#ck yes! I was walking past Cobra Kai, and I see that it's closed down!" Chozen almost spits out his coffee "Closed down?!" "Yes Chozen! The dojo is closed down!" You and Daniel are confused, so you say "Wait a minute, wait a minute. Are you sure?" Johnny excitedly pulls out his phone and brings up a picture he took when he was there. The dojo is all dark, with a large notice on the border up front door, which read.

"⚠️Cobra Kai is no longer a working dojo, all students families will be emailed with other dojo's in the valley with positions available, we apologise for the inconvenience, any equipment for dojo use is no longer on sight and has been donated to other dojo's in the valley. Sinsearly Terry Silver.⚠️

"Holy crap!" Daniel says happily before he hugs Amanda. You just can't believe it's actualy closed down. "When I took this picture, there was a guy who was outside doing measurements. Turns out he bought the place from Terry last night at a great price, and this guy is turning it into a new Italian restaurant! This is great news! And it's all thanks to you Y/N!" "He really sold it? I.....I'm stunned" Your a little taken back by this, you never thought he would back down that easily. At that moment, Samantha walks out of her room smiling, holding her mobile phone. "Hey dad! Did you hear about Tory and her parents?" "No? What's happened?" "That's Cobra Kai guy, Terry Silver sent £10.000 to their bank account for the injury she sustained in the dojo! £10.000! That's so much money!" Chozen and Johnny look at eachother in astonishment, and Daniel smiles at Samantha from hearing the great news. "That's amazing Sam" Sam runs back to her bedroom, and your the only one still sitting down not saying anything. Chozen sits next to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright Y/N?" "Huh?...yeh I guess. I never thought he'd actualy do what I said so quickly" Johnny's smile slowly slumps away. "Yeh, your right. I could see how nervous he was around you, but it's not like Silver to just give up like that. He has to have some kind of other motive in that old head of his, I mean, what's he to gain from it?"

"Chozen says "Well? If I may say something? Was Silver always like this?" Daniel shrugs his shoulders "Well he was when I was a teenager, but I don't know about before then" Chozen runs his hand through his hair before he says "Considering what you said to him last night Y/N, it may be that you were able to finaly get through to a side of Terry Silver that noone has seen before. I mean, not everyone is born evil, what if there was a Terry before the karate took him over and turned him into the man he is today?" "What are you suggesting?" You ask Chozen. "It's just an idea, but what if he has been living this evil persona for so long, that there was another side of Terry that was buried? I side he had forgotten because he saw it as weak? You seemed to be his achilles heal Y/N. What if you awakened the other side of Terry?" "Are you saying, my threats have brought out a (nice) version of Terry?" "I'm saying that he felt weak when he was around you, that's something he hadn't felt before he got into karate and became the man he is. Maybe.....you broke the evil Terry, and helped the real Terry break out? It's just an idea" Johnny smirks and scoffs "Yeh I still think he wants something, I don't trust that ancient pr#ck" You think about what Chozen and Johnny said over in your mind as everyone else just keeps the conversation going. Was Chozen right? Was there a side of Terry that wasn't this corrupt, money hungry #sshole?

Or is Johnny right? Does he want something? What could he want though? He has all the money he could want, a house on the beach, fame, respect of the community. So what did Terry Silver lack in his life that he would want? And what did it have to do with you? That night, as you and your friends slept soundly in your beds, there was someone in the valley who wasn't sleeping very well....Terry. He tossed and turned in his very large empty bed, sweat on his brow and moans coming from his lips, what was he dreaming about? He suddenly jolted up in his bed with a wide and very awake expression, breathing heavily as he gathered himself. He looked around the room, it was all dark apart from the moonlight in his large glass pane door. He looked down at the quilt that covered him, and he could see what he thought was just part of his dream, but it was definitely a reality. He was completely hard! He had just had a dream that made him feel so turned on, that he had woken up to the hardest boner he had ever had. And only one word escaped his lips in the form of a breathy whisper......"Y/N........."

[wovenstarlight]

How would you define how Yoohyun feels about Yerim? Since obviously his opinion of her has improved since they first met, but I don't know if he actually likes her

HMMM i don't know that Yoohyun is actually like physically capable of liking anyone besides Yoojin! i'm kidding but also only slightly. like if you remember what Irin says in chapter 287, it goes "AN INSANE PROPORTION OF YOOHYUN'S THOUGHTS ARE ABOUT YOU [YOOJIN] COMPARED TO THOUGHTS ABOUT ANYONE ELSE I PROMISE", so if you're including his feelings towards Yoojin as a comparison point, it's going to skew the chart to unreasonable levels, and it'd look like the answer is No, Yoohyun doesn't care about Yerim at all

HOWEVER. if you EXCLUDE Yoojin from the chart then Yerim actually ends up being one of the two people Yoohyun likes most! with the other being Peace. from 287, in Irin's words, 80% of Yoohyun's thoughts that aren't about Yoojin are instead about Yerim and Peace. of course, that's exclusively based on the fact that Yerim and Peace both also like Yoojin the most. Yoohyun cares about other people in proportion to how much they care about his hyung, single-minded little idiot that he is /affectionate.

BUT THAT ASIDE! i think he does care about Yerim in a couple different respects. one is that he trusts her in a way that's different from people like Seok Simyeong or Kim Sunghan—you'll notice that in chapter 239, he explicitly designates her (and Peace) as the first two people he actually recognizes as part of "his world", which is a position not even his closest guild members have enjoyed, despite him clearly trusting them to do their jobs well and look after Yoohyun himself to some degree. he trusts her to look after Yoojin, which is probably the deepest level of belief he can hold in someone other than his hyung. and for the same reason—that she cares above all for Yoojin and his happiness and his safety, and can back up that care with the ability to protect him—i do think he likes her!

Yoohyun also cares about Yerim's wellbeing (again, in relation to Yoojin! in that he knows Yoojin will be sad if Yerim isn't okay. this is something a lot of people who care about Yoojin are aware of and account for: that they can take care of him indirectly by looking after the other people he loves. you see it with Sung Hyunjae lending Yerim his flame-resistant coat in chapter 126, and Yoo Myeongwoo making sure Yoohyun has the best equipment in chapter 240, both for Yoojin's sake). she's not only important to Yoojin himself, from which Yoohyun derives some level of actual care, but also one of Yoohyun's guild members and technically part of his family, which adds a sense of duty and responsibility for her into the mix. remember when he blew Gakuto through a pillar because he called Yerim a bitch in chapter 215 with the whole That's My Guild Member You Motherfucker attitude... i thought that was pretty funny of him. and like. when Yoojin was straight up dead for a while there in 240, the only thing stopping Yoohyun from following him into death on the spot was the thought that he had to make sure Yerim (and Peace and the others) knew. so that they could actually grieve him instead of just never knowing what had happened to him. he cares about them!!! he does!!! it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack compared to his love for Yoojin but he does!!!!!

of course i do also think that Yoohyun finds her incredibly annoying. they're constantly squabbling, this isn't a far-fetched guess, they fight to the point that chopsticks somehow end up embedded in the dining room wall and yoojin has to scold them to quit it in chapter 171. yerim's constantly on the verge of calling him ugly. that one time early on in chapter 48 when she was like WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME and he trotted out a whole bullet point numbered list without missing a beat. i bet he still has a list now, just with different reasons on it. but like. that's just normal siblings innit. you care about each other a whole fucking lot but you would also sell them to satan for one corn chip or however that goes.

TL;DR: yoohyun likes her but he'd probably die before he said that in as many words. not out of unwillingness or anything, just because it wouldn't occur to him to. yerim knows without him needing to say it, after all.

(where's my evidence for that, you ask. well! spoiler excerpt from chapter 331 from Yerim's POV about how Yoohyun has acknowledged and accepted her below the cut)

However, she couldn’t help the presence of anxiety in her relationship with Han Yoojin. It was love that all but dropped out of the sky one day. The claim that it was because she was an S-rank Awakened person wasn’t enough. What was more, Han Yoojin was crowded with exceptional people at his side. Han Yoojin clearly cared for Bak Yerim, but it was difficult for Bak Yerim to think she was special to him. Couldn’t it be that what she’d suddenly gained might suddenly disappear? The one who quelled that anxiety she tried to ignore was none other than Han Yoohyun. Han Yoohyun had hated Bak Yerim. Because his hyung liked her. Han Yoohyun had accepted Bak Yerim. Because she liked his hyung. Han Yoohyun had acknowledged Bak Yerim. Because she had the ability to protect his hyung. It was a relationship entirely based on Han Yoojin, but if anything, Bak Yerim was relieved and happy because of that. This was Han Yoohyun, who Han Yoojin was everything to, who was beyond difficult when it came to things relating to him. That harsh guy had accepted Bak Yerim standing by his hyung’s side.

points at them. Yerim feels accepted and cared for by Yoohyun