#unending woe over here

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Oh, Tumblr. Oh, Social Media. Oh... Hell.

Let me show you the door. I'm not using it yet myself, just let me show it to you.

I took a vacation for a weekend (ish - we're in Canada and the spouse is mandated to take at least ten vacation days per year!). Tumblr became a portable object to use for killing time on my phone. Just scrolling along while stuck on the ferry, or wherever. Bite-sized servings of content which did not distract my attention from needing to get up and get going again when the boring time was over. I couldn't produce art or writing or do much more than click a little heart and type a couple sentences with my thumbs.

Before this, my feed was already starting to reach critical mass. I have to stop and walk away from things people I'm interested in are saying. Because... all our feeds are designed to prompt instant responses on every topic that pops up. Religion, water bottles, LEGO plastics, cute animals, great original art, human rights, love and respect, how to make the world a better place. I have endless thoughts, yes, but I wouldn't be saying all this stuff without the feed.

I can dash off an essay on anything that interests me, but that's not what most people can or even want to do, and I'm noticing that's not what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to be doing the phone thing. I'm supposed to give whatever handed me a chuckle a little algorithmic boost, validate someone's emotions with a heart, and move on to the next thing. The most engaging things will get the most little boosts, the most notes, and keep people scrolling, which is what Tumblr wants.

This is just another version of the force-feeding that's making me divest from streaming services. Only I can't pirate the little social blips and assurances I want and leave the rest. Every human being I'd like to interact with is rendered as an endless stream of content, most of which they didn't even produce, they just liked it. I've tripped over multiple artists who no longer post their art because what they get for it is either nothing or the negative reactions of strangers without context.

Please don't mistake me, I love being clever and dashing off snappy responses in this rarified environment. I found the person I married that way. But, back then, I was interacting with a person. We fired original clever responses at each other, we had a lot of fun, and even though each little interaction was disposable and forgotten, we built a relationship that way. These new disposable interactions don't do that. In fact, they get in the way of building relationships.

Ha-ha, but I'm not supposed to be out here building relationships. I'm supposed to be getting people to notice me so my content gets seen. I can't have a relationship with everyone I'd need to "know" to look like I'm worth being seen, let alone to profit from my content. But WTF is my content? WHERE is it? I'm not invested in name-checking fandoms or responding to things someone I'll never meet said that someone I might like to know liked. I thought I would do a little of that, validate some people who like what I like, and maybe some of them would like what I do. But what I do is drowning in what I "like," and I think it's like that for a lot of people I'm "following."

What I do, so far as Tumblr is concerned, is "like" things. (And reblog, it's basically the same.) I don't think there is a social media company, or even an independent publisher who isn't operating like that these days. I'm a human bit plugging away on a server, helping my parent company sort through content so they always put their best foot forward. I'm a leftist with multiple health issues and a weird brain! I'm here to help you figure out what content people like me will engage with!

And in return for my services I will be paid... What, exactly? I wanted to be paid in attention from other people like me, I thought that was the agreement here, but that's not what's happening. My endless stream of disposable interactions is getting attention, not the important stuff I spent time on. And I, too, am feeling the pressure to stop bothering with the things that matter to me, and just keep responding to whatever popular thing is in my feed. Only the people who already know me from elsewhere will engage with all these paragraphs I'm producing for this post. Tumblr's not interested in that.

I suppose some media giant whose brand is detached intellectualism might want something like this, but I have no legitimacy. I don't look like I deserve a job telling people what I think. I don't even look like I deserve a job telling stories. What I deserve is... uncompensated work helping Tumblr sort its shit. All for the promise that maybe, if I keep it up, a couple more folks will browse through something that matters to me. Without context. Without caring. Without knowing anything more about me than what I like. Huh. *scroll, scroll, click, scroll, click* Is this a long work demanding more than a couple seconds of my time at a sitting? Sorry, I don't have that for ya. Maybe I'll get back to it!

I've been here for months, I've picked up a bunch of "followers," but nobody's gotten back to it, not that I can see.

I've been here and gone before. I hate Tumblr the least. But I do still hate it. And this is why. Yes, I will help power your morally-bankrupt algorithmic sorting device. Sure. I'm willing to do menial labour! I'm just not willing to do it when my reward is more menial labour. Tumblr will drop as much of its sorting process on my head as I'll take, like debt collectors will wring as much money out of you as you're willing to pay. It only stops when you stop it, and you have to dig in and fight to stop it.

I'm not going to nuke another blog and run off - although I want to. I've finally had enough experience to figure out what Tumblr wants from me, and that's not what I want from it. I want to be seen. I want to help you be seen too, but I'm being asked to erase everything about all of us, except the "likes." Tumblr's feed is producing widespread malnutrition.

Even if a crowd of new followers should trip over this and fill up the notes with cries of "Halleluiah!" Even if every last one of them says, "I LOVE your writing, please give me more writing you've done!" Even if every last one of 'em joins my Patreon (which I'm also thinking of nuking). All of that may not be enough to keep me doing this. I mean, I can't do this. I have to change my strategy or I'll have another dead blog. I mean to say: it won't be enough to keep me trying to shake what I want out of the Social Media Tree. I am beginning to suspect there isn't any fruit left on this bitch. There might've been, but the corporate power structure trimmed off every branch that could've produced some, and sold 'em for scrap. If I keep trying, I'm just encouraging others to keep wasting their time the same.

If you're just here to type a couple sentences with your thumbs once in a while and "like" things, you should be able to keep doing that for quite some time. But that fun, low-impact activity depends on people like me who show up hoping you'll care enough to support the effort we put in. And I get the feeling there's a lot of churn in people like me, because Tumblr isn't treating us fairly, and it's trying to make us into something we're not. Eventually, you won't find us on here anymore. I don't know where we'll go, but it won't be here.

The future of Tumblr, if it goes on this way, is a feed full of people saying they liked or hated some new content that appeared on some other platform. And maybe Neil Gaiman (or someone like him who doesn't need the attention they get here to survive) will type a few profound words with his thumbs every once in a while, and you can all like or hate that too. If that's all you need, welcome home. If not... Well, there's a door. I don't know if what's on the outside is any better, but there is a door.

[kiame-sama]

Maybe the King of the Underworld felt bad for Humans because they were forced into a role they didn’t want (Like how he had to take rule over the Underworld when no one else was willing to)

So maybe when Humans died, he was willing to give every human a ticket to a peaceful afterlife after all the horrors and unfairness they had to face (He was even willing to block those terrible memories to give them peace)

He found Humans to be an interesting species because they could be the funniest individuals he ever met (As he was known for having a sense of humor)

He couldn’t help but have respect for Humans because of how tirelessly they strived to keep their place in a world where Monsters constantly pushed them down in the dirt

He was willing to make deals with humans to give them an advantage, and was kind enough to only ask for small things in return

(Just Realized I forgot the King of The Underworld in my other post about the Great Seven and the Righteous Judge, thanks for the quick reminder!

Post is here:

)

- The King of the Underworld was a Shinigami and was known as the King of Shinigami. Souls passed through all the time in their way to their eternal rest and there were few the King hated to see but loved to speak to more than the souls of Humans. From their quirky personalities to their near unending desire to survive in a world that seemed to be stacked against them.

- The many souls of Humans that cowered before him- having spent their last moments in abject horror being hunted for sport and meat- always made his chest constrict. To see such resilient and almost noble creatures so beaten down and terrified truly put the fragility of Humanity into perspective for him.

- Humans had been far and few in number long before the last few died out. It was an insurmountable and frankly unfair task to expect such creatures to compete against those with claws, wings, fins, horns, and most of all magic. The fact that Humans held out for so long in a world so vicious was nothing short of inspiring to the King of the Underworld and he loved Humans all the more for it. Their ability to last as long as they did proved Humans had something special the other species simply didn't, a kind of moxie and problem-solving that allowed them to etch out a place in the canvas of life.

- The King adored the inventiveness and resilience of the little species, often granting great boons and even shelter from the other species that sought to hunt or mistreat them. The Island of Woe was a shelter for the souls of Humans, both living and dead, since blot did not impact them half as much as other species.

[transandersrights]

Happy Friday! And welcome to DADWC! ✨ I'm going to give you a song lyric prompt for Handers (if you like): “The unending amends you’ve made are enough for one life. Be done.” from '81 by Joanna Newsom.

(I take prompts! See info here)

For @dadrunkwriting - 600 words of post-canon, post-taint cure m!Handers based on the above lyric from this beautiful song. Ty for the prompt!

“I was meant to die.”

Anders’ words were whispered at dusk, the rasp of his voice barely audible over the waves. He’d spent most of the day crying; Hawke had too.

They were good tears, promising tears, a future laid out before them and a poison no longer running in Anders’ veins. Tears for years no longer lost and everything they could do together. Hawke was rung dry in the second best possible way, and Anders…

“You weren’t.”

Anders snorted, and Hawke could hear the way it caught in his throat. “I was. If I hadn’t fled when I did I might have died in the Circle. No Wardens at Amaranthine? Dead. Didn’t join with Justice? Dead. I was willing to die in Kirkwall, and then with the Calling…” He sighed. It was the most either of them had spoken all day, at least in one go, and Anders’ voice was wrecked.

“You didn’t want to go on it,” Hawke prompted. The darkness encroached more with every moment, but he could still see Anders’ nod. “So you don’t have to. Not anymore. And I mean, if you want to throw your life away in a final, desperate struggle against— actually, I won’t finish that. You know I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Even if I wanted it really badly?” And how was it fair, that he got to tease about dying?

“I think I know you better than that.”

Anders smiled, and fuck, he was so beautiful. The sea winds whipped the hair off his face, leaving salt-marked cheeks and every line of his face in full view. “Woe is me, to be known and loved.”

“Quiet, you.” Hawke reached upwards, brushing his thumb across the plain under Anders’ left eye. “You’re deflecting.”

The wrinkles at Anders’ eyes creased further. “I suppose I am.”

“There’s no repayment you’re due to make, you know.” This conversation was as old as time — Hawke had long since come to terms with Anders’ Calling. Now he had to become unaccustomed to it, and Anders did too. “The Wardens saved your life. But it wasn’t fair that you would probably have died without them.”

Anders leaned forward, his forehead meeting Hawke’s. “You make a compelling argument,” he said. “But I made that choice willingly. I could have walked away without undertaking the Joining. I could have run away without Justice. I could have walked away from Kirkwall.”

“It’s always Kirkwall, isn’t it?” Hawke moved his hand to tangle in Anders’ windswept hair. He needed a haircut again — or maybe he didn’t. Maybe it could grow wild, like the forest beyond their little garden behind their little house by the sea. “Sometimes, I think you loved that city more than I did.”

Anders made a gagging noise. “Try again, love.”

Hawke couldn’t help it; he threw his head back and laughed. It crackled at the end, but it was real and Anders chuckled with him. “It’s been years. You’ve more than made your amends.”

“I don’t think—”

“If you’re about to name someone who would never forgive you, no matter what you did in the years since, stop.”

Anders just smiled again, because he was predictable and they knew each other too well for that nonsense.

“You’re free, Anders. No Circles, no tainted blood. You can put down the torch you’d light your own pyre with and live.”

Anders gripped Hawke’s hand so tightly it felt like every joint creaked. “So long as you’re there with me.”

Hawke grinned. “That shouldn’t even be in question.” Anders smiled back, and they were crying all over again.

They had a long night ahead of them. But longer still was the road that stretched out towards them, no longer ending in the deep roads, and Hawke wouldn’t trade that for the world.

[thronelessking]

@myriadventurers asked:

“Venat, can I get your opinion on something?” The two had been sitting in silence for quite a while now, the only sound breaking the stillness being the occasional flip of a page or voices passing by until Anemone piped up. “Of all the stars, why did I end up here? There has to be a reason, right? I mean…" Anemone looked away from her journal to take in her surroundings from where they sat, watching as others went about their daily life without a second thought. This place -- this entire star -- was a borderline utopia, so why here? Was it some higher power showing mercy upon a poor soul that did the best they could, or did they wish to torture her with what could have been? The summoner desperately wanted to believe it was just the luck of the draw, but as she spent more time in this unfamiliar place, it felt as if her placement had been deliberate. Eventually she would look back down at the journal in her lap, noting the abrupt stop in entries before finally shutting it. “Maybe I'm just thinking too hard.”

Venat looks up, over the cup of tea freshly brewed. A long day of study - out in the field and now to the books - rewarded with a rest among the peaceful breeze and clear skies. It is only through her usual stubbornness that they sit outside, a blanket woven from nigh nothing separating the two of them from stone, dirt, and grass. She was always one after all to eschew the buildings of her home, the walls that kept books safe, but not quite the mind. It is after all only when one's feet touch the earth, and ones eyes take in the sky, do they realize the wonders of the world. When the heartbeat of life itself thrums gently in the mind.

The advisor turned wanderer turned adventurer smiles at her company. "You can ask me anything you so please." Her voice is warm, so warm. So full of life, and just as equally full of private mischief.

The woman listens to Anemone's woes, cut off as they were, and the smile on her face remains though her brow knits. It is indeed a good question; but what is life but an unending cycle of them? As always, Venat takes firm hold of it. She adjusts herself, the hem of her robe brushing against the edges of their picnic spot; stained already with dirt and grass in a haphazard pattern. She minds it not.

"I believe there is, even if the reason itself may not make sense." She sips at her drink, parched mouth and dry tongue refreshed in an instant. The heat warms her, too, for a moment before it's stolen again by the wind's before the breeze finally dies for a time.

"Sometimes a journey wanders and finds its way in a place far from both home and destination." She speaks from experience of course. "But there is always a purpose even if it may not present itself to you." Venat looks upon her home and sees the utopia it is and sees what more it could be. Still, she smiles.

"Do not lose heart." With that she reaches over to place a gentle, caring hand on Anemone's shoulder. There, in the scholars eyes, is a twinkle of knowing. After all who would Venat be to deny that, perhaps, sometimes on her own journey she too stumbled and fell and questioned. It is only natural.

"There is something here that will show itself to you the more you search for it. The reason for your coming will be made clear; perhaps you have yet to look in all the right places." The woman removes her hand gently and returns it to her side. "Or perhaps, it is coming time for you to take the action needed to find it."

[sasorikigai]

Scorpion? The Nightmare Lady frowned as soon as she realized she had heard of that name before. Once she sent her mare away to their family on the field, she remained in silence with her violet eyes gazing into his alabaster eyes. Pulling out every information she could retrieve from her mind until her eyes became soften from acknowledge of a man. "Sir Demetri mentioned of you before," Marzena muttered, "A man covered by the embers but also chased by my mares... Almost thought that you were from this domain of mine."

Then, she lifted her hand to press her chest with a small bow towards her unusual guest. "My name is Marzena," she replied to his greeting of sadness and bitterness. She lifted her gaze to face him once more, properly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, but you wouldn't like to know that you are meeting these nightmares' owner." Her soften expression, however, didn't show any other emotions. "What makes you visit to this domain with what reason? Are you here to find a trace of your memories of old?" (( if you don't mind, I will continue your reply on the ask box? uvu ))

Random Inbox Shenanigans || @sunsctfcde || always accepting!

Continuation from here (x)

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Every day and night, Scorpion comes to an inevitable realization that he is meant to face the ever-constant unknown of the world. Whether it may be bad or good, how much he always thinks may or may not change, he will forever contemplate it, the ouroboros of eating himself out - both physically and metaphorically, by demolishing himself in order to rebuild himself back - that is his every realization. Scorpion continues to face the swirling vast tapestry of time, where slaughtered souls unfurl and disintegrate. The vivid scenery of the Shirai Ryu massacre becoming fractured shards within the cosmic swirl of flowing realms. As warriors and civilians alike fall, their essence scatters wide and in cosmic choreography, they cease to exist and become mere phantoms in the sky.

As Scorpion's own profound trials and tribulations, he feels that all-familiar aching; a hollow shell in his chest. It occupies the space between his heart and lungs, lying directly at the base of his throat and ending somewhere around the Black Hole at the other side of the Milky Way. It is a special heavy sort of emptiness, the kind that is all at once heavy and light. It feels like that first breath of cool spring air, the type that stings and lingers the way light blinds the eyes, taking with it vision for mere seconds that seem an eternity of icy white. While each breath fills a balloon and his chest is lighter than the air, but his head is so heavy that it flops over and keeps him grounded. In this great struggle, as his heart and soul remain entangled, hurt, and still relatively confined in the crude mercilessness of Netherrealm, Scorpion has been traveling through realms; with a heartfelt plea, as if the haunted specter was attempting to find someone or something to set him free.

"Then you should be familiar with the origination of my hellfire. It is both my strength within, releasing the hold that binds me thin, lifting my tormented spirits to the skies, while the weight of woe and wrath continue to scorch and scald my subconscious," there still are intrusive terror in his head, convincing him he is inadequate and unworthy of being considered as one of the most formidable warriors of Earthrealm. How he sought his own peace, even extirpating the irredeemable propensity for violence and cruelty - the parts of himself he too feared - in order to not be crushed under the weight of living through this perpetuated state of living in between life and death.

"I still remain a captive soul in chains unseen. Yet, perhaps it was the depths of longing and love's hold that defied the vicious vice grip of the Netherrealm's hold that broke me free of this clasping doom. A tainted being that continues to be seared with tainted fire, yet bound to this unending desire to become human again."

In this embrace of paradoxical shadows' deep and Hanzo Hasashi's indomitable heart and humanity, Scorpion is two colliding souls refusing to be entwined, yet still coexisting. For in the echoes of his long exhale, lies the raw tragedy of his love's disguise, in the form of grievance and vengeance. "Lest the Shirai Ryu and I become the inevitable shipmates bound for the abyss that is absence of life, I refuse to neither willing to abandon ship nor fault them for failing to protect themselves," how his bones vibrate and his hands become numb, as the darkest memory known to him begins to engulf him whole, with its cold caress gripping his subconscious. It lies present in his soul and surrounds him entirely. "I do wish to relive the moment of my death, after having witnessed that of my clan's and family's." ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[watevermelon]

Fate | Kageyama Tobio x Reader (One-shot)

✧ Summary: For years you watched Kageyama grow - from his time as king of Kitagawa Daiichi to the seemingly aloof setter on Karasuno. Your lives were a set of near misses; distant friends, but never getting any closer. You figured that once you entered Shiratorizawa High that it would be the end of your friendship. Thankfully, it was only the beginning.

➳ Tags: Slight Oikawa x Reader; Fluff with very minimal angst; Reader transfers from Seijoh to Shiratoriazawa so there’s drama; I love Oikawa but oooF this is not a good fic of him ➳ A/N: Captain-Sama! In the groupchat is the username for the female captain of Shiratorizawa and do you know da wae is the reader’s lmao

Navigation

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As much as Oikawa complained about him, you understood Kageyama Tobio to a certain extent.

You spotted the setter during your shared time at Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High, him being one year your junior. There was no doubt the genius and pure talent that was coursing through his veins - he was surely going to make whichever high-school he attended proud.

You had the same position as him on the women's volleyball team and served as vice-captain in your second-year, alongside a third-year who held their head just as high.

There was nothing more scary than the thought of looming talent, creeping up on you until you were rendered absolute. Oikawa, you were sure, had felt that since the moment Kageyama was placed as an alternate setter during his first-year. It was a daunting feeling, to work on something at all hours of the day and know that there was someone who could easily render it all worthless.

But that did not mean it was fair to treat the poor first-year that way.

Iwaizumi was the senpai Kageyama deserved, but the blueberry held a strange respect for the setter two years his senior. No matter how much of a jerk Oikawa proved to be, through his biting words or taunting nature to the other setter, that did not change how amazing of an all-around player Oikawa was. And that made Kageyama respect him even more.

You respected Kageyama's genius, even helping him personally with his jump-serves, but there was no doubt that he heavily relied on Oikawa's example.

You wondered how long that would last.

Oikawa progressed to Aobajōsai High School at the end of the year. And, to everyone's surprise and obvious disapproval, you did not advance to the white-and-blue signature colors of the school that most Kitagawa Daiichi students went to.

The vice-captain and later full captain of the women’s Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High volleyball team was not going to Aobajōsai.

You would be branded a traitor by the lesser students, people who served as your other teammates that you were not close to. But your friends around you knew just who much you worked hard and aspired to have this academic achievement. You, in the depths of your hearth, admitted that you wanted to be on a team that almost guaranteed victory, with teammates who you could conduct and control the game with.

Unlike what many had hoped, you were going to Shiratorizawa Academy.

Your grades were well above average, actually landing you in the top five in your class among your entire graduating year. What stood you out among the endless crowds of talented setters, beyond your unending potential, was your already rounded ability as an aggressive server. Your jump-serves were better than the other first years in your newly minted class (an ability that came as a perk of being a certain Oikawa Tōru's friend).

Given both an academic and sports scholarship, you flashed a blinding smile at your junior high graduation, parents and friends clapping at your achievements.

You felt blessed to have such supportive parents, ones who, despite their busy work schedules, still attempted to attend your major volleyball games. And had vocally voiced to you their approval of your wanting to go to Shiratorizawa, offering to pay for it out of pocket if you had not received a scholarship.

You could not ask for better parents than these.

Shiratorizawa Academy handed you a new ass - giving an entirely new meaning to practice and torture. 

You accepted the position as alternate to the regular setter with a smile, happy to just be on the bench and not cheering from the stands. If anything, the first few months of Shiratorizawa showed you that you had so much more to learn.

But you were eager for the challenge.

A particular practice match with the women's team from Itachiyama Academy solidified your need for much more training. You wanted to be a reliable pillar to the team, for whatever role you needed to sub into for the game. Whether it be just as a pinch server or when the regular setter was sick, you wanted to demonstrate the winning attitude that came with being a student to a school of absolute victors.

You spent your first-year training nonstop, your fellow first-year students surprised at your youthful vigor and unending stamina. But you had to prove yourself better than reliable, that you were going to uphold the Shiratorizawa standard for setters and more if you wanted to be a regular.

You related to Shirabu and Kawanishi, fellow students in your year who were keen on becoming regulars to the men’s volleyball team. Both you and Shirabu had not attended Shiratorizawa Junior Academy, instead coming from separate junior high's that were considered lesser. Because of this, you two came in ‘brand-new’ with no friends or experience with the school personally. Shirabu grew to have an obvious close relationship with Kawanishi, but you found yourself gravitating toward them every once in a while, as well.

The rivalry between your school and Seijō took the back-burner during your training. You would see some of your previous friends when there were practice matches between your schools and you made an effort to text and even hang with some of them if given the time, but volleyball man. 

It was hard to manage your academic workload alongside giving more than one-hundred percent in your sport.

When the Interhigh-Preliminaries rolled around, you watched from the stands as second-year Oikawa Tōru had already taken the helm as vice-captain and regular setter of the Aobajōsai volleyball team. You were silently proud of your brunet senpai, despite how gaudy and annoying he could be, there was no denying Oikawa’s obvious skill and love for the sport.

The rivalry between specifically Ushijima and your previous senpai ran bone-deep and it was easily palpable to everyone watching the match, even more so to you, who sat at least a hundred feet away but knew both young men personally now.

After the game, you went down and put a comforting hand on Oikawa's shoulder, who gave a small grimace at the motion before fully standing to look at you. It was easy to morph your appearance and identity with the other students adorned with purple tracksuits, (since not matter who, they all annoyed the hell out of him) but Oikawa remembered your face personally from Kitagawa Daiichi.

The two of you were not especially close during junior high, but definitely friends that would often converse on a daily basis. Since you were the vice-captain of the women's team while Oikawa was captain of his, you often shared your personal woes and experiences. 

You even had a shared extra-curricular class in some science-related subject (you knew he was a closeted nerd, no matter how much he denied it). He was definitely a friend of yours, but you never truly knew what was going on in that head of his.

Oikawa’s eyes widened at recognizing your face, before dropping down the bold font of your school's name at the front of your jacket.

"And here I was, wondering if you had moved or died." Oikawa started with a small smirk, "This is much worse."

You lightly punched at his shoulder and then sighed, "Believe it or not, even though you're such a nuisance, I missed you."

Oikawa smiled, but then held a hand over his heart in feigned offense. "Nuisance?"

"I missed you, big oof." You put a loose arm under his and wrapped it around his middle in a side-hug, surprising the brunet who quickly returned the action. "I'm proud of how far you've come.

He rolled his eyes and attempted to pull away, "I don't need you to baby me."

"I won't." You stated in a firm voice, "But I do know you will continue to do whatever it takes to destroy my school."

Oikawa looked at you, fully peered at your countenance as he soaked in your words, before nodding in affirmation. You shared more words of conversation, catching up between friends who had not seen each other in a whole year, before he returned back to his team.

Like the previous Seijō captain, you were relentless in your training during your first-year. You wanted nothing more than to be the regular setter on your team. It was not enough being the sub, even as a first-year, you wanted to prove your abilities on the center-court in an official game.

The regular setter was a third-year, with graduation looming around the corner. Both you and your second-year counterpart were eyeing the position with eager eyes, but your work ethic did not fail you.

GroupChat: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼ д ͡༽୨

07:57   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )             welcome aboard (L/N)!!

07:57   From: Captain-Sama!             congrats (L/N)!

07:57  From: do you know da wae            aw thanks! But it wasn’t without the help of the team (✿ ♥‿♥)

07:57  From: do you know da wae            also congrats to shirabu and kawanishi!

07:58   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )             i ship it

07:58   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            thank you and you too

07:58   From: Captain-Sama!             but there’s three of them

07:58   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩            thanks b + you 2

07:58   From: the most tender Salami             ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

07:58   From: the most tender Salami             Also yah congrats but im watching you

There was no question that every eye of both the men’s and women’s volleyball teams were now scanning the shared groupchat with narrowed eyes. The newly formed regular positions were just released this morning and everyone was eagerly anticipating to see their names announced.

You were thankful that the women’s captain was so friendly, offering congratulations for your achievement, unlike many other envious third-years who were now sitting on the bench.

You were pronounced as the regular setter in your second-year, your older senpai inwardly sneering at the pronouncement. Nothing was set in stone and no player was ever safe in their position, (unless of course you were Ushijima Wakatoshi), but your older teammate knew better than to waver in their own training.

Which is why you were not personally offended when the kind-hearted, Semi Eita, did not add to the numerous amounts of congrats to you and the two other second-year boys. You were grouped together with Shirabu and Kawanishi, newly minted second-years now inaugurated into regular positions on a renowned team. There was no doubt that there was a hint of envy and competition within Shiratorizawa now.

07:59   From: Captain-Sama!             don’t be rude salami this is a congrats thread

07:58   From: Ushiwaka-sama             You will all surely be assets to our team

7:58     From: do you know da wae             Thank you!! ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

08:00   From: Coconut-head            congrats to all the second-years! 

08:00   From: Coconut-head             ໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७

You saw the multiple indicators that someone was typing, suddenly come to a complete stop. 

Goshiki Tsutomu was the rare case of a student abounding with natural talent and enthusiasm. Yes, there were tons of students blessed with a general aptitude for volleyball. But what set him apart was his humble attitude and willing manner to learn and keep being molded. He was growing to be the product of all his older teammates, since he had no previous sense of style to retain.

Goshiki Tsutomu would surely grow to be Shiratorizawa’s ace. 

But right now, he was an enthusiastic first-year trying to overcome the overwhelming shadow of Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It undoubtedly set off the tempers of multiple (now) third-years. You even felt the crawl of envy at the young man. You were only granted a regular spot in your second-year. And yet this first-year had already overcome your personal feat. You knew, in the more comprehensive parts of your mind, that Goshiki earned his role and there was no excusing your petty behavior.

So, with a deep sigh, your fingers swiped across the keyboard.

08:05   From: do you know da wae             Congrats to you too, Goshiki-kun! (♥‿ ♥ ) ~

08:00   From: Coconut-head            thank you senpai!!

The captain of the women’s team, along with Yamagata and Ushijima, added in their own forms of congratulations to the growing thread on the chat. But there was no doubt that the atmosphere was suddenly even more tense with the addition of Goshiki’s words. You could not blame anyone; you knew first-hand how much you worked and literally slaved for your position on the starting block.

Every regular on the team worked their way to their position – that was a fact no one could ignore.

But they had to learn to live with it.

You spent most of your time getting integrated with your fellow teammates, thoughts of Kitagawa Daiichi taking a much further backburner than before. You heard the distant yet familiar names of Oikawa and Iwaizumi often make their way into conversation. There was no doubt that you loved your friends, but they were your rivals now. 

And you had no hesitation in recounting their abilities and weaknesses when both Reon and the infamous Guess Monster had asked you.

It also helped that you were once the captain of the women’s team and knew them better than anyone had before. Which also helped you exploit their weakness – another additive that the coach had taken to account when putting you on the starting block.

But there was another label that, in particular, stood out as you approached your second Interhigh-Preliminary as a student of Shiratorizawa.

Freak quick duo.

You were familiar with the several different nicknames that promulgated the Miyagi volleyball scene – great king, guess monster, little giant, super volleyball idiot (but that was more of an inner joke between Shiratorizawa students).

It was strange to you, that Kageyama had not yet made an appearance at Shiratorizawa Academy. He surely had the volleyball forte and physical ability to be the most skilled setter in the Prefecture, but you chalked it up to his grades or brisk personality that may have weighed him down.

But when Kageyama was not even present for the practice match between Seijō and your own school, it made you wonder if he had dropped off the face of the planet. For students who were seriously pursuing their sport, it was not a surprise for them to travel abroad to train. But you doubted Kageyama of all people would do so, his English was terrible.

Usually students from your junior high would immediately accept the invitation to Aobajōsai, a private school seconded only by Shiratorizawa. The few unique instances against this was yourself, but there was no sight of Kageyama at your school. 

So where on earth was he?

Both of Seijō’s teams, men’s and women’s, were coming for the match and the annual start of their explosive rivalry. It was strange for you, to now experience both sides of the Oikawa and Ushijima relationship. You had been on Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s side not too long ago, seeing Ushijima’s brute words that you had taken, at the time, as sarcastic and extremely biting. 

It was funny how now, knowing Ushijima personally, you knew the poor spiker only had volleyball in his heart and mind – oblivious to how offensive his words could really be.

09:34   From: the most tender Salami           enemy spotted Attached: brunet.jpg, ihatethisguy.jpg

09:34   From: Ushiwaka-sama           He should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa

09:34   From: the most tender Salami           lmao he can’t hear you waka-kun

09:34   From: Ushiwaka-sama           That does not make it any less true

09:35   From: Captain-Sama!           Wait

09:35   From: Captain-Sama!           WAIT

09:35   From: the most tender Salami           ????

09:35   From: Captain-Sama!           wait Attached: screenshot.jpg

09:35   From: the most tender Salami           WHAT

09:36  From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)           That’s literally just a zoomed in version

09:36   From: the most tender Salami           um that’s SHIRATORIZAWA’S (F/N) with the enemy

09:36   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩            I mean she did go to Kitagawa Daiichi

09:36   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )            wait she’s Oikawa’s student ???

09:37   From: Captain-Sama!            and now it all makes sense

09:37   From: Ushiwaka-sama            even his student has the good sense in coming to Shiratorizawa

09:37   From: the most tender Salami               LMAO you have no chill

09:37   From: Ushiwaka-sama            it’s almost summer, why would I be cold?

09:37   From: Captain-Sama!               the top 3 ace in the entire country, ladies and gentlemen

You opened the chat after the last message from your captain. By then, you had already greeted the visiting teams from Aobajōsai and were leading them to the gyms that were being used to the practice matches. It was strange, seeing the friends that you had spent more than three years with, wearing rival colors to your own.

“I’ll never get used to seeing Shiratorizawa-clad you, (F/N).” One of your old close friends commented, pointing at your purple tracksuit.

“Honestly, me too.” You admitted, looking up toward her before going back to your phone. You briefly showed the last few texts to Oikawa himself, who rolled his eyes at Ushijima’s words.

There was always something strange about Ushijima when it came to the Aobajōsai setter. It was mixture of respect and something, that always motivated Ushijima to voice his desire for Oikawa to go to Shiratorizawa. He had explained on one occasion that Oikawa was a setter unlike any in the prefecture, including his current team as well.

Oikawa was the type of setter who could bring out the absolute best of anyone, orchestrate his team to their full one-hundred percent, molding them toward his personal interest and control of the game.

And as a setter yourself, you knew that despite his gaudy style, Oikawa was well above the rest.

Ushijima often voiced that Oikawa deserved a team that would help him grow, rather than a team that require him to win – a team he had to drag by his fingertips.

You had explained to Oikawa once before how Ushijima explained it to you, of course with better words and ones that the brunet would less likely take offense to, but the setter simply scowled and muttered that Waka was still an asshole anyway. When you had told Ushijima about the bonds that Oikawa upheld, Ushijima simply narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

It was strange, their relationship. The feelings seemed to run bone-deep, neither male listening to the other side or even simple reason. But you learned not to question it anymore. It went against logic.

You flipped your phone back open to the groupchat and typed.

09:38   From: do you know da wae             I wasn’t his student, I was his babysitter

You typed in, Oikawa looking over your shoulder as you texted, immediately reaching over you to grab your phone the moment he had realized what you conveyed. You could almost feel the loud laughter of Tendou as he bellowed out at your text.

“Why must you taunt me like this (L/N)-chan?” Oikawa pouted, crossing his arms and looking away from you. Iwaizumi had a small smile when you showed him your words, Makki and Mattsun laughing in response since the true personality of the intimidating setter was coming to light to the other Shiratorizawa students.

“It’s time everyone learns the truth.” You teased, rubbing your shoulder against Oikawa’s as he continued to pout. There was no one quite like Oikawa, you admitted inwardly but never to the face of the already proud setter.

They unloaded their things into the visiting school’s locker room and when you returned they had already shook hands and were warming up before the start of the practice match. You tilted your head at the line-up, now a visual confirmation that Kageyama was nowhere in sight.

“Who are you cheering for, (F/N)?” Tendou asked you with a pointed finger in your direction.

You simply rolled your eyes, “Myself. I have my own game in an hour.”

It was to no one’s surprise that your school had dominated both matches, for both the men’s and women’s team. You spied the score-board when you looked over to the men’s match: 25-22 and 27-25. The gaps were not huge and it was obvious that the teams were close in ability, but Aobajōsai had yet to win a single match from your school in three straight years.

You had an unfair advantage of already being closely acquainted with many of Seijō volleyball players – you were once their captain and had to help them individually with their own routines. To your captain’s glee and the third-years’ utter dismay, you proved yourself to be the integral cog that led to the team’s victory – your position as a regular was obviously here to stay.

There was no denying the evident vigor in Oikawa’s eyes after the match, even more so since he had personally requested from you the digital recording of his practice match. An exchange of two orders of milk bread from the bakery across Aobajōsai and you had emailed the brunet his request.

You offered to walk the Seijō students to their bus, since you had a personal question in mind. “Did Kageyama move or something?” You asked toward Oikawa, who scowled in response.

“He went to Karasuno High.” Iwaizumi answered instead, elbowing the brunet for his rude behavior.

“Why do you care so much, (L/N)-chan?” Oikawa taunted, “You already have me and I’m the best setter you need.”

You rolled your eyes along with Makki, but decided to say nothing after his words.

Karasuno… 

You remembered the name of the school distantly. It was still within the prefecture, but you do not recall the school being particularly outstanding when it came to volleyball or any sport for that matter. The school was not anywhere near the list of high-schools you had applied to when you were in junior high, so why would Kageyama, who had unending potential, go somewhere else?

You had voiced this outwardly and even asked if there was an offer from Seijō to Kageyama.

Makki shrugged his shoulders, but the younger student behind him, one that you did not recognize, visibly tensed and the frown on his face grew. He said nothing to you, but it was obvious that Kageyama’s name alone had an effect on the first-years.

Ushijima was already standing at the buses; perfect posture and his hands were naturally down by his sides. You could tell the Seijō students were ready to fight, tensing immediately at the sight of your fellow schoolmate, Oikawa and Iwaizumi moving to stand at the very front of their group. You fought down the urge to call Tendou or Semi, hoping that the situation would not progress further and requiring the help of the other third-years.

“Let today be a testament, Oikawa. It’s never too late for you to come to Shiratorizawa.” He uttered before walking away, right through the center of the group and back to the school grounds.

You spotted Oikawa’s tense smirk, one that he was attempting to use to hide his obvious frown. Iwaizumi was not hiding his scowl and Mattsun looked ready to fight.

You put your hands up, unsure what to say. “I don’t get it. He’s only ever like this with you guys.”

“Don’t defend him, (F/N).” One of your old friends on the female team stated, “You’re one of Ushiwaka’s friends now, you wouldn’t understand how it’s like to be on the losing side anymore.”

You bit your lip but said nothing, there was no reasoning with them when the snide venom from their defeat was still a fresh wound in their minds. You were better off not trying to say anything to them, but with Oikawa’s scowl only increasing you knew you had to do something.

Oikawa kept his eyes trained on Ushijima’s retreating back, before motioning for the younger students to load up their things into the bus, giving his own pack to someone else.

“Oikawa-senpai, please don’t let him get to you.” You put your hands on his chest, seeing the tight fists at the brunet’s sides. “Ushijima doesn’t mean it in a douchey-way, he just comes off like that by accident.”

The brunet took in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, before putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you full-on with his piercing hazel eyes.

“Take that Waka! (L/N) still views me as her senpai – her ability hand-picked and trained by me.” Oikawa stated with enthusiasm as he looked over your shoulder and toward the school. Your smile was now a straight-line, there really was no end to their rivalry, you inwardly mused.

You jabbed your elbow into his stomach, making Oikawa release his hold on you. He groaned and bent-down, low enough for you to lightly pat the top of his head and tell him that you looked forward to the milk bread that he owed you.

He countered, saying that you really could not resist seeing your senpai again, and was about to continue if not for the extremely fast volleyball setting loose right on the brunet’s head.

You flashed a quick thumbs-up toward Iwaizumi then waved goodbye. Walking back toward the dorms, you were ready to shower and take a nap after a day like this.

It was strange that two schools that held such an intense rivalry would often hold practice matches between one another. You chalked it up to Seijō’s innate ability to get better as the duration of a match continued, their batch of third-years in particular were good at planning and strategizing on the fly during official matches. It only made sense that they would want to play against the top school even more often.

Your first official Interhigh-Preliminaries as a regular and you watched the competition with guarded interest. You saw the name Karasuno on the first-day, surprised that the school Kageyama had chosen was in the bottom bracket. The women’s team were obviously subpar in terms of volleyball, incapable of even stopping the average serve from their opponents. You frowned, neither team on the court would prove to be a worthy challenger to Shiratorizawa, so you simply walked away from the match.

Maybe his test scores were really bad, you inwardly joked.

Shiratorizawa was exempt from the first few days of matches, giving everyone ample time to watch and gauge their future rivals.

You decided against watching the match of Karasuno vs Dateko, hearing that the Iron Wall had crushed the team only a few months prior. Rather, you chose to watch a match between Johzenji and another, since you wanted to watch for yourself the extremely aggressive style that had you wondering just what was going on inside their heads.

But when a crowd had exclaimed in surprise over by Karasuno’s court, you chose to maybe just walk over and see what the fuss was about.

You took a seat farther from the rest, hearing distantly of a freak quick that not even the school who specialized in read-blocking could keep up with. You knew, first-hand, how fast and aggressive Kageyama was with his setting, it could be a surprise to everyone’s who was seeing it. Even the spikers on his own team in junior high were constantly surprised, you could imagine how it was now that he was using it in a more public setting.

It was confirmed now, before your very eyes, that Kageyama was now attending Karasuno.

Donned in a uniformed of black and orange with a huge indicator of his number nine, Kageyama was still same in appearance from when you had last seen him. Sporting an unintentional scowl with eyes that shone with a certain determination, you could spot Kageyama in the sea of volleyball players. A part of you was proud to see your, now much taller, kouhai on the court.

Your eyes followed the game, watching as Karasuno attempted to get around the Iron Wall that Dateko was infamous for.

A lucky save from a blocked spike, Karasuno’s libero was quick on his feet and you distantly recognized the short male. You blinked, seeing Kageyama’s perfect form and unable to personally decipher where the first-year was going to set to. You saw the older looking man, one who was surely in his twenties. Or the balder looking one, watching the setter from his place in the back line.

You blinked, a second passing as you tried to figure out who was the next attacker.

Your eyes could barely keep up with the orange flash of someone as the figure ran toward the net, without regard to the set, and spiked the ball before anyone on the other side could react. You felt yourself physically reel back in surprise, what the hell was that???

This was the freak-quick duo that everyone was talking about.

It was not just another name, rather it felt like an extreme understatement to what you had just seen for your yourself. You had not spotted any visual signals and wondered just how much Kageyama had worked on his precise pin-prick setting – he was a monster now, that was for sure.

You were not able to watch the rest of the match, your team calling you since it was getting closer to the time that your group was leaving. You had your own matches to deal with, and as curious as you were about how much Kageyama had changed since you last saw him, you had your own pressures to deal with at the moment.

The women’s team of Shiratorizawa won their matches the next day, overwhelming numbers in your favor since your renowned school seemed to always carry the best ace in the entire prefecture. You took in your victories with humble stride, knowing that nothing was set in stone until the final with your rival school - Aobajōsai. Rather, you finished your stretches and attempted to get the tail-end of the match between Seijō and Karasuno.

You watched with bated breath, unsure of who to root for in the final points, as the freak quick nearly disabled the second-best school in the prefecture. You could not help but bite your lip as the shortest middle blocker you had ever seen, rose above the net, only to be blocked by your old friends.

There was no stopping the apparent heart ache you felt at seeing a team you barely knew, dejectedly fall to the ground with their heads hung low. Oikawa was hollering in victory; there was no doubt in your mind that this match extended to a much more personal level, like that of his games with Ushijima. Within seconds, the brunet was yelling out commands for his team, likely getting ready for the next match as Karasuno lagged behind with depressed visages.

It seems Kageyama is finally beginning to trust other people, you inwardly mused when you reran the last few plays within your mind.

You stood at Aobajōsai’s side of the stands, waving to Oikawa with a smile when he spotted you, lining his team up to bow at those who came to watch the match.

Oikawa made a point of smirking and pointing a finger-gun at you, making many heads turn towards your direction as he did so.

You felt the instant pang and vengeance of a thousand fangirls, making the third-years of Seijō roll their eyes as you tensely motioned a slash across your neck toward the brunet. Other Aobajōsai students, those cheering from the stands, lifted a brow in confusion and curiosity – wondering just who this Shiratorizawa student was and what connection you had to Oikawa.

“At this rate, you’ll be branded a traitor, (L/N)-chan.” Tendou joked, making you tense up at the voice. You spotted him, along with three other students from your school sitting a little farther back from the Seijō crowd.

“I can’t be interested in some of my old friends?” You teased back, walking up to where they were sitting.

“Just don’t cry when I demolish your boyfriend.”

“He’s not-!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Tendou interrupted, turning back to the court as Karasuno neared the Aobajōsai side of the court to bow and offer their own thanks. “Besides, why be interested in him when we have cuties like this one?”

Tendou quickly grabbed at Shirabu’s cheeks, forcing the setter’s frown into a puckered fish-face for a quick second before the brunet nearly mauled his fellow teammate. You rolled your eyes at the antic, but said nothing to acknowledge the question.

You turned back, watching as Kageyama’s distant eyes never wandered higher than eye-level, obviously devastated that this was the result of all his training.

“Kageyama!” You yelled, hoping that the setter would hear you over the applause.

He had, looking up at the stands and seeing you wave at him. There was no hiding his surprise and it looked like he wanted to yell something back, but was instructed by his captain that it was time to head back to the coaches. Kageyama simply waved to you and then ran back to join the others.

“Or is it that one, all along?” Tendou asked in a low voice, eyes following the Karasuno setter before they slide over to you.

You hadn’t heard the red-head, turning back and going out to where the teams were convening downstairs. You attempted to look at the Karasuno crowd, but your own team was assembling for some strategy concerning your own final, the very next day.

After three games, the Shiratorizawa women’s team was pronounced winners of the Interhigh-Prelim. Everyone was aware of your school’s name, it’s reputation – how a win like this was simply expected of you.

But absolute winner did not cover the fact that your face ached from a receive to the face, unable to raise your hands in the visible route of the insane spike of your friend. Or the fact that one of your middle blockers was now actively sporting a limp, pain exploding in her ankle after having a bad landing in an awkward spot after successfully cutting off their ace. Or the fact that one of your regular wing-spikers was now benched, an ice-pack on her knee after her old-injury was sprouting after having to be used so many times.

Or the fact that you nearly cried with joy when you heard the immense crowd of Shiratorizawa cheerleaders and students chant your name, after you performed a setter dump.

None of these details really mattered in most people’s eyes. 

You were Shiratorizawa – winners to the core. They had no sympathy for your story or the hard-earned journey you made to the top, many just expected it with no empathy, and it made you scowl.

You and your team lined-up after the match, the cheering growing to a loud uproar as the cheerleaders, alumni section, and just immense crowd of students chanted the victory screech for Shiratorizawa.

You waved with both hands at your parents as they cheered your name even louder.

This was your second-year in Shiratorizawa, but your first time as a regular on the team. Your friends in Seijō were seeing your skill first-hand in the match, from start to finish, as your team had utterly demolished their hopes in progressing to nationals. You were a skilled setter before, but your time at the Academy had honed you better than you ever were. You gained experience from playing other powerhouses from around the country, even some local colleges who were willing to challenge you.

You were on a completely different level than where you were as the captain of Kitagawa Daiichi.

Your friends had accepted long ago your association with Shiratorizawa, but actively putting your face and actions to their defeat obviously strained their feelings toward you more and more.

You made sure to smile at them before the match, attempting to placate the tense feeling of fighting against your friends, but it was obvious that their friendship with you was getting harder and harder to maintain. After the game, they had completely ignored you – your current friends in Shiratorizawa advising you that it was just the heat of the match. 

But you knew better and simply kept walking away as they ignored you.

The men’s team was able to defeat Aobajōsai in only two matches – Oikawa’s bitter glare and Iwaizumi’s tense frown being sent directly into your own heart.

In the end, everyone deserves to win.

But there was only one winner in the end – you mused. Taking one last look, Oikawa not greeting you this time when he saw you at the line-up, you walked away from the match and back downstairs to the lobby.

It was just too much for your heart, all at once.

You sent a text to both third-years the next day: I’m proud of you guys! Don’t let Ushijima get you down. Iwaizumi answered within minutes, thanking you for the encouragement and even complimenting you on your jump-serve, since he caught a glimpse of your game.

Oikawa never answered.

Back at school, the coaches for both the men’s and women’s team allowed a rest-day on Friday’s holiday – Family Day – claiming that everyone needed to take a breather and that they had earned it from their win.

GroupChat: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼ д ͡༽୨

11:23   From: Captain-Sama!             congrats to all !! ✿♥‿♥✿

11:23   From: Captain-Sama!                           may your crops be watered and your skin is clear

11:23   From: Coconut-head             thank you!! And for you as well ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

11:23   From: Ushiwaka-sama!             thank you I am checking my plants now

11:23   From: do you know da wae             I have exactly one succulent

11:23   From: the most tender Salami           lmao thanks b attached:oikawameme.jpg

11:23   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            why must you call plants that @doyouknowdawae

11:23   From: do you know da wae            y

11:23   From: do you know da wae            are you jealous of my good succc ??

11:23   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩            LMAOOO

11:24   From: the most tender Salami              holy shit

11:24   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            fight me

11:24   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩              ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:24   From: the most tender Salami            (f/n) gives me hope for our meme legacy :’)

11:24   From: do you know da wae            i gotchu bby boo

11:24   From: do you know da wae            maybe I’ll even bring you back food from break

11:24   From: Captain-Sama!            am I the only one staying on campus for family day? :’)

11:24   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )            myself + Shirabu are staying as well

11:25   From: do you know da wae            aw guys I’ll bring some of my mom’s oyakodon when I get back!

11:25   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )            thank you!!

11:25   From: the most tender Salami            my food is now forgotten :’)

11:25   From: Captain-Sama!            you live closer to Karasuno and Seijooo, right?

11:25   From: do you know da wae            yaaaas

11:26   From: Captain-Sama!            ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:26   From: the most tender Salami            ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:26   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩              ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:26   From: do you know da wae            ｢(ﾟﾍﾟ)

11:26   From: Captain-Sama!            don’t think we didn’t notice your little exchange with one of the freak quick kids

11:26   From: do you know da wae            oh

11:27   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            (f/n) cant have other friends ??

11:27   From: the most tender Salami            oh come on we all know they shared

11:27   From: the most tender Salami            the look attached: hearteyes.jpg

11:27   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )            oh no the matchmaker is back in business

11:27   From: Captain-Sama!            oikawa then kags are you hiding any other setters ??

You were lounging on your bed during common hour, hesitating in your next answer and trying to decide if you were either going to mess with everyone or just end it there. But, you always loved sowing some seeds of discord with your favorite volleyball nerds. Typing in…

11:28   From: do you know da wae            im actually in love with one of the miyas

11:28   From: the most tender Salami            gasp

11:28   From: My only Okaasan/Eita            he can jump up his own ass

11:28   From: Ushiwaka-sama!            he is a good setter

11:28   From: Captain-Sama!            but a complete douche

11:28   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )            I do not approve

11:28   From: the most tender Salami            that’s how you know he’s that bad, yamagata doesn’t ship it

11:29   From: Coconut-head attached: ???meme.jpg

11:29   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            ＼| ￣ヘ￣|／

11:29   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩           who the fuck

11:29   From: the most tender Salami            third from left attached: InarizakiHigh.jpg

11:29   From: do you know da wae            tbh didn’t expect anyone to know who that was

11:30   From: the most tender Salami            lmao sweetie we live and breathe vball

11:30   From: Captain-Sama!            also unfortunately he was at a vbc camp with some of us

11:30   From: the most tender Salami            I’d rather approve of you with oiks

11:30   From: do you know da wae            lmao nah

11:30   From: Captain-Sama!            these RECEIPTS would beg to differ Attached: oinkawa.jpg; jointpractice.jpg; bakawa.jpg

11:31   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            holy

11:31   From: the most tender Salami            I knew it was true love 11:31   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            where is everyone’s chill ???

11:31   From: Ushiwaka-sama!            you will be a nice Shiratorizawa couple

11:31   From: the most tender Salami            LMAO

11:32   From: do you know da wae            why does this keep happening

11:32   From: do you know da wae            only kenjiro understands me

11:32   From: My only Okaasan/Eita            ive known waka forever and even I don’t know why he’s like this with Oikawa

11:32   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            its bc we’re the only normal ones

11:33   From: Ushiwaka-sama!            I’m not with Oikawa, he doesn’t even go to Shiratorizawa

11:33   From: Ushiwaka-sama!            a mistake in itself

11:33   From: Captain-Sama!            IM SCREAMING

11:33   From: the most tender Salami            wakanda forever

11:33   From: do you know da wae            LMAO I was thinking that too but decided against texting it

11:34   From: the most tender Salami            wait a second

11:34   From: the most tender Salami            kenjiro x (f/n) >.>>>>>>

11:34   From: do you know da wae            lmao don’t even

11:34   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩              lmao well

11:35   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩              ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

11:35   From: do you know da wae            we all know that if that if kenjiro’s girlfriend hears this she’ll literally shank me

11:35   From: the most tender Salami            lmao true

11:35   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            she doesn’t even like me

11:36   From: do you know da wae            what a lie

11:36   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩             hard retweet

11:36   From: Captain-Sama!            we all know the alpha ship

11:37   From: the most tender Salami            oikawa x (f/n) x kags

11:37   From: Captain-Sama!            LMAO

11:37   From: do you know da wae            end me pls

11:37   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩             oof didn’t know you were into that

11:37   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)            they can definitely do that for you

11:38   do you know da wae            …

You rolled your eyes at their antics, conversation on constant haywire. But you would not have it any other way. Most people would look at your school, the simple name and already have connotation to others. Yes, you were a powerhouse school. But that did not change the fact that you were all teenagers, just like everyone else. And with it came the continuous antics of meme-lovers.

Throwing your phone back on your bed and turning to look out the window, you were happy to have a day to yourself to finally make sense of everything happening. You were proud of your win at the Interhigh Tournament, no matter how bitter or lost your friendship had become with the people you were once the closest to.

Your texted your parents about the three-day break for Family Day and they had immediately pushed for you to come back home, where they would hold a celebratory dinner along with some other families they were close to and invited. You told your roommate about it and how embarrassing they were, but she countered that it was a sweet gesture, since she held a close relationship to her own parents as well.

“They’re just proud of their little girl, that’s all!” She teased, grabbing your head into a small nuggie. She was much taller than you, a middle-blocker who was still serving as an alternate.

Most of the other members of the team were also heading home on Thursday night, eager to visit their homes and parents and finally have a home-cooked meal after being away for half the semester. You personally looked forward to your mother’s cooking and said goodbyes to your teammates after your last class on Thursday.

Your dorm at Shiratorizawa was much farther than your home, actually sitting between Karasuno High and Aobajōsai. You considered jogging the entire way, but it was a rare break and decided to give your body one as well (at least just for the weekend, of course). Coming off the train, you spotted the street sign pointing to the aforementioned high-school and heavily considered visiting the old-time friend and setter that you had yet to have a formal conversation with in a good two years.

You had some time to kill and decided that maybe it was not such bad idea.

You neared the school and heard the tell-tale sounds of sneakers and volleyballs being tossed about.

Standing in the already open doorway, you spotted several faces that you recognized from the Interhigh game still training. They wore serious expressions, studying their abilities very carefully and working to fix the kinks in what they planned to bring to the table.

“Japan!” You heard someone shout over the others, the owner of the voice pointing at you as they looked at you in surprise, before they ran over to where you were standing.

You waved at the orange-haired middle-blocker, smiling as you did so. “I remember you. Good spikes, little dude.” You complimented, patting the top of his head as he blushed at the physical contact.

You turned back to the gym, stopping the blush crawling to your cheeks as every male looked at you in genuine curiosity. You kept scanning, until finally seeing the setter you were looking for.

Kageyama was already walking up to you, smacking the head of the still sheepish middle-blocker and muttering hinata boke, before he greeted you in a neutral voice.

“(L/N)-san.” He stated simply, inclining his head as he did so.

“Kageyama-kun, didn’t expect us to meet again like this.”

You felt the looming presence of two behind you and turned to see two males peering at you with open interest. One of them, that was the taller of the two, asked toward you, “Eh, Kageyama. How do you know Shiratorizawa’s setter?”

You smiled at the two looming boys and answered, “We went to Kitagawa Daiichi together.”

The two held their hearts with open euphoric expressions, happy that you were even gracing them with a response.

Kageyama fought the urge to slap them on the head as well, before adding. “She helped me with my jump-serves when Oikawa had refused to.”

You just kept on smiling, unsure what to say or add when the boys before you had yet to say anything at all as well.

“You give me too much credit.” You countered, “You were a monster on the court the other day.”

Asahi silently studied your figure, distantly remembering your sharp jump-serve that he had gleaned from your match, it was something you were personally known for after all. A setter who was capable of shutting out the team from making any offensive plays to begin with – you really were one of Oikawa’s students after all.

“Nice to meet a senpai to our little monster.” The captain teased, offering his name – Daichi.

“What are you doing here?” Kageyama asked you, trying to keep his voice leveled.

“Both volleyball teams were given breaks until Monday, consider it a blessing for winning Interhigh.”

“Wah! I remember you.” Hinata, you recalled from earlier, stating. “You did that thing that Oikawa did to us. He went pow and was about to set and then boom it was a spike!”

You nodded, surprised on how truly enthusiastic and just all-around pure the small middle-blocker was proving to be. This was the same volleyball player who was part of the freak quick duo you had seen for the first time not long ago. Eyes shining with determination and an indescribable aura, it was a complete change to the young man jumping with joy in front of you now.

You turned back to Kageyama, “I wanted to see how you were doing. I saw your game and was just wondering…” You trailed off.

Kageyama hesitated, a small frown still evident on his visage. “We have practice now.”

You dropped your sports bag to the side, “Sure. I don’t mind helping out with jump-serves or something if you guys need it.” You paused at the silence, “It feels weird not having practice during the week anyway.”

“Jump-serve? Shiratorizawa?” The coach asked with a finger on his chin, before it morphed to a smirk. “Better make the most of it!” He directed to the group.

You felt the evident hesitation in the air, several of the older looking men simply looking at you with no words coming out. But that did not stop the little orange to bound up to you without restraint, eyes gleaming with anticipation at whatever question was being held behind those wide orbs.

“Do you mind showing me your jump serve?” Hinata asked with hands held up to his chest, excitement apparent through his lack of restraint.

“Don’t crowd her, boke.” Kageyama bit out, but you waved him off with your hand and a relaxed grin.

Offering a small smile, in hopes of softening some of his reserve, you took the ball that Hinata was offering you and glanced up toward the rest of the group. The moment your eyes came to, the older (you assumed) third-years, were ushering other members to get back to their own practice. A man with silver hair was pushing his younger ones to their previous positions, but it was obvious that their eyes were following you as you walked across the court.

“Stand back, little dude.” You motioned with your free hand as you paced further back past the line.

Holding the volleyball out with your dominant hand, you took a deep breath and launched it up into the air above you. Examining it with keen eyes, you smashed it forward, close to the outer corner of the other-side, but within the bounds.

“Uwah!” You heard his cheer of excitement from the side and turned to see a bright and eager smile.

It seemed that all the other commotion in the gym had stopped as you readied to serve, silence now much more evident as they took a full gander at you – the one capable and widely known for your monster serve. You felt eyes peering at you, but they quickly averted as you timidly looked around the room for yourself.

All but two pairs of eyes, both of which you were sure were burning into your head.

“Allow me to receive your serves!” You heard the voice from behind you, turning to see a male who was a shorter than you, with two-toned hair.

“Sure.” You muttered, surprised at the humble request of a libero you had heard so much of before.

This continued until the next rotation, a strange smile on your face from being on the other side of practice. Your coach knew better than anyone your strengths and definitely exploited your weaknesses when it came to your own practice. You distantly remembered having to do a cursed number of jump serves and, even though it was your forte, there were tears in your eyes for just how much you ached.

“Here.” An older man inclined a water bottle in your direction. “My name’s Asahi.”

“Thanks. Nice to meet you.” You nodded back in appreciation, slightly intimidated from his tall stature and rugged appearance.

Forcing yourself to steel your spine, you recalled how you were previously incredibly apprehensive around Ushiwaka, who turned out to be the biggest volleyball idiot on the planet.

“Something up?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Do you mind, walking me through your serve?” He hesitated in his request, making you inwardly surprised that a man so big and bulky, was coming to you so humbly.

Again, Karasuno seemed to surprise you.

You walked home with Kageyama after practice, floors mopped and nets neatly stored away. You were so used to your dorm at Shiratorizawa, the walk home felt familiar and yet distant – it was strange to you. The both of your homes were only a few streets separated from one another, you remembered from the walks home you would have together before in junior high. And you decided on spending the beginning of the walk together in comfortable silence.

Or at least comfortable for you.

Kageyama was inwardly struggling to say literally anything.

He remembered you as the type of person who hung around Oikawa and Iwaizumi, two people who often had no qualms in engaging in conversation. You had a bright smile, unlike his own. 

And yet here you were, simply gazing ahead to the commute in front of you without a single word uttered. Kageyama had to stop himself from the physical nervous tick in his fingertips.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s just something different about you.” You stated, slowly moving your gaze over to the setter at the end of your sentence.

It was clear that Kageyama had no idea what to say, sputtering but no actual words coming out.

“It’s not a bad thing, not at all.” You raised your hands, waving them in defense. “Don’t worry, Kageyama-kun.”

“How can I not…” You heard him mutter under your breath, making you lightly chuckle at his words.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You complimented, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and making him instantly shy once again. “Why are you so shy, now?”

“What do you mean?” He raised a brow.

“It’s just me, no need to feel so tense.”

Kageyama hesitated, “Thank you.”

“For today? No worries, a small part of it was selfish since I wanted to see you.” You admitted.

You could hear his breath hitch, before he added okay.

“You’re such a blueberry, Kageyama-kun.” You laughed at his disposition.

“What does that even mean?! Boke.” His apprehension was quickly pushed aside at his frustrated words, making you chuckle at him even more.

You reached Kageyama’s home first, a sight you had not seen for yourself in the past year. Even when you returned back home, this was a little out of the way from your usual commute. But this was strange, it seemed completely the same no matter how much time had passed. It always just seemed…

… Empty.

You turned to Kageyama, “Are you spending family day alone, Kageyama-kun?”

“Yeah.”

You gauged his reaction, despite his rough exterior, Kageyama did not exhibit a hint of a frown or sadness at the answer. Rather, his response was rather plain – as if this occurrence was normal and not even disappointing to the setter anymore. This realization hurt your heart, having such comforting and supportive parents of your own, Kageyama deserved just as much.

Kageyama was used to spending his time alone, that much was evident.

“Would you like to have dinner with us tomorrow, for family day?”

He looked at you fully, apprehension palpable, but stated anyway. “Sure.”

You exchanged phone numbers as a formality, but saw that both of you had your previous numbers saved in each of your phones. It made you slightly happy, that Kageyama decided on keeping your phone number despite your time apart at different schools.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama-kun.”

“Boke, I’ll walk you.”

You tilted your head and pointed in the direction of your home, “It’s not that far–”

“It’s dangerous, you never know.” He interrupted, brisk words in evident contrast to his sheepish strides in front of you.

You just kept on smiling the way home.

“Would you like to come in?” You offered to which he nodded. You slid the door open and greeted. “Mom, dad! I’m home, I have Kageyama with me.”

“Come in sweetie, I’m in the kitchen!” You heard your mom’s voice, the sweet smell of her cooking fliting through the room and to your growling stomach. “Your dad is still picking some stuff up for tomorrow.”

You settled your bag at the end of the stairs before making your way over. “Hey.”

“Look at my favorite swan!” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and then lightly squeezed your cheeks, “Now an official winner, too!”

“Mom, stop.” You grumbled, wrestling your face away from your ongoing embarrassment.

“Kageyama, good to see you too!” She greeted. “You’ve always been so tall – look at you now, all handsome.”

You laughed at Kageyama’s reddened face, no worries coming out of his goldfish expression.

Your mom continued, “I meant to stop by your home last week, I still owe your mom thanks for the calla lilies.”

“Oh. They’ll be back next week.”

Your mom paused, turning her head in question as she looked at the young man. With a newly determined face, she glanced at you and then toward Kageyama, “Would you like to join us for family day, then? We’re having a few people over and we would love to have you as well.”

“I already invited him, mom.” You stated, taking some dough off the table to eat as a small snack, which resulted in a large smack on the back of your head.

“Perfect.” Your mom assured, “I’m still cooking now, but you’re welcome to join us for dinner tonight as well.”

Kageyama backed-up with his hands raised, “I couldn’t barge in on (F/N)’s first night back with her family–“

You interrupted, this time. “Nonsense, Kageyama-kun.”

“Here, Kageyama-kun can help me with this little bit. (F/N) unpack your things upstairs and then come help set the table.”

You nodded, taking her orders without delay as Kageyama settled into the rhythm of your family.

“You were such a stern boy, back in Kitagawa Daiichi. I’m glad to see you’ve lightened up.” Your mother commented, passing the young setter some greens over the kitchen table.

By now, the meal was ready and the four of you, with the new addition of your father, were enjoying a quaint dinner to celebrate you finally visiting home after so long.

“Lightened, that’s a good word for it.” You added.

“There’s definitely a difference.” Your dad observed, “I was glad to see you’re still enjoying volleyball – still as gifted as ever.”

Kageyama paused, “You’ve seen me play?”

“Of course. There’s no denying the shock we still have when we see you serve. And that quick toss, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do it like that before.” Your mom replied, “We saw your game against Aobajōsai, there’s no doubt in anyone’s minds that you’ve grown as a person.”

“Game nearly gave me a heart attack – I’ll never get used to your brunette friend.”  You dad pointedly stated toward you before turning to Kageyama, “But I’ll be honest, even though we’re closer to the Oikawa’s, I was rooting you.” He winked.

“Honey.” Your mom lightly slapped his shoulder with a smile.

“Of course, the highlight of the tournament for us was cheering our daughter on to her first official tournament win.” Your father continued, waving off her light admonishment with a grin of his own.

“Wait.” You saw the little hamster running in Kagyeama’s mind, “You watched the last few days of the tournament?”

“I wasn’t about to miss my daughter become champion!” You father bellowed, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Even if I have to use my vacation days at work, I would hate to miss something so important to her.”

Kageyama continued staring, eyes never leaving your father. There was no doubt that Kageyama lived and breathed volleyball, he loved it more than anything else really. But, his parents had yet to even begin to understand the dedication he had toward the sport. Kageyama could not remember the last time they had attended one of his games or even tournaments.

The expression on Kageyama’s face was so far-gone, it made you want to do something to comfort him.

Apparently, your parents thought the same way.

“You’ll definitely get ‘em next time.” Your dad motioned toward Kageyama. “Seriously, that quick attack you have – I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“We’ll be rooting you on again.” You mom reassured Kageyama, offering a plate of meat toward the setter who was staring at them with wide eyes.

He took the plate with hesitant hands. That’s how you knew Kageyama was so surprised, the fact that he was even wavering to eat meat – his king of food.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Your father joked before turning to Kageyama fully with a serious expression, “We’re proud of you.”

You smiled at their words. 

You knew your parents well, just as they knew you, but here they were being entirely honest. Your parents did everything they could to have you in a loving environment – and this required being honest with what they wanted and what all parties were feeling. Meaning, they were not dressing up their words to the silent setter.

They really were proud of him.

You put a comforting hand in the crook of his elbow, since he was sitting beside you. That seemed to snap Kageyama out of his stupor, his glazed eyes turning to you and then between your parents.

“Thank you.” Kageyama paused, “Really.”

This was probably the extent of his social ability, you inwardly joked before offering the plate back to your parents. The poor dude was close to exploding, you could tell, and tried to steer the conversation away from the setter before that happened.

It was strange to Kageyama, the effort your parents took in spending time with you or even just what you were interested in. Your parents commented that they always downloaded your games if they were broadcasted on television, eager just to see how you were doing or wanting to send you an encouraging text about something you had done during the match.

Kageyama really felt the love in your family.

Your father walked him to the door, once dinner and dessert was done. Offering a goodbye and a literal see you tomorrow. Kageyama felt guilty, even in the face of your whole family telling him it was no issue, leaving your mom no choice but to task him with bringing a small cake for the gathering tomorrow.

Kageyama put a hand on the gate to your house, looking back with a small smile before continuing on his walk back home.

You spent the next day preparing for the small gathering that night. You only hoped that your parents would not embarrass you later. Kneading dough and humming along to the song through the speakers, you spent the calm morning alongside your mother in the kitchen. Your dorm only had a microwave, since you were still an underclassman with no privileges to a kitchen yet. It was a great change to finally have a cooked meal.

You greeted the first family with a smile, unaware of the feelings of one in particular.

“Hey, glad you guys could make.” You started, turning to the side for the new guests to enter. The parents smiled at you, inattentive to the tension between you and their daughter.

“Good to see you, (F/N). Congrats on your win, as well.” The father greeted as he passed you.

You turned to your friend, “I haven’t really seen you in a while.”

“Our last two sets was three days ago.” She bit out, glancing at you briefly before walking into your home.

You had always worried about this. 

You loved your friends; your time at Kitagawa Daiichi held a special place in your heart – but that was nothing compared to the continual animosity they held for your school. The rivalry between Shiratorizawa and Aobajōsai was not a surface level problem, it was one that was seemingly burning to the core of each blue-clad student. They wanted nothing more than to absolutely destroy you, even if you were their friend. And the fact that you were a forerunner in the women’s team’s defeat, it made them dislike you even more.

You could not withhold the long sigh that escaped you.

Your parents were always the type to participate in fundraisers or school events and, being a previous member of a strong school like Kitagawa Daiichi, meant that they were in constant association with other parents to kids just like you. You loved it at the time, since it was obvious display of their support for you and the sport. 

But now, after leaving the life-track of your Kitagawa Daiichi friends…

It’s not that there were no other parents that yours could connect with at Shiratorizawa. But it was harder for your parents since most of the others knew each other from Shiratorizawa junior high – meaning they already had their tight knit clique of parent association friends. It was not like your parents did not try either, but they were just closer to the friends they made at Kitagawa Daiichi. It also helped that your home was closer to the schools as well. Which meant that…

Some of their closest friends were parents from your time in junior high.

Meaning most of those invited today were probably now attending Aobajōsai.

You had to stop yourself from slapping your forehead against the door.

Your home was littered with various families containing your friends – or ex-friends? They had never actually confirmed anything to you verbally – making you want to literally throw yourself out the window and down the street into the river and hopefully float down back to Shiratorizawa.

If not for your parents, you would have had no problems walking back to school today if it meant avoiding this.

Opening the door after the telltale sign of the doorbell, you nervously smiled before the caustic eyes of the Oikawa family. Tōru, along with his parents, older sister with her husband and son, greeted you at the door as you stepped aside for them to enter. The older Oikawa dragged you into a hug, claiming you’ve grown way too much and that she was proud of your recent win. Takeru handed you a flower and you recognized it from the nearby park.

You were most nervous of Tōru – his reaction to you after the Interhigh Tournament was unlike how he had ever treated you before. Even as a newly minted Shiratorizawa student, he still took the effort to catch up with you and even text you back. But since the tournament he had been ignoring you. Iwaizumi reassured you that it was nothing personal, it was just your school that inflamed him.

But it just made it all the more awkward to be inviting Oikawa into your home now.

The rest of his family made their way into your home, but Tōru took his time in taking off his shoes and stand in the foyer area alone with you, hazel eyes locking with yours and never turning away.

“You’ve always been an amazing setter, I hope you know that.” You started.

He blinked slowly, eyes making their way from the bottom of your shoes all the way up to your face. It felt like you were being examined, his intense stare and uncharacteristic quietness raking through every detail of your body – no wonder your fellow students at Shiratorizawa found him to be intimidating. Oikawa really could be if he tried and it hurt your heart that you were now placed at the completely other side of a friendship.

Hazel eyes narrowed when he reached your face, “I don’t need your pity.”

You grabbed his elbow before he could walk away, “It’s not. Tōru, you need to know that. You’ve always been an incredible setter I look up to and that will never change.”

Oikawa looked at you but said nothing. At least his expression was more neutral, rather than its previous hints of resentment.

“Take away the names, the labels, the stupid school colors – you’re an amazing setter. And you will always have a place in my heart as my first mentor.” You admitted, watching as his eyes slowly widened with each word.

You continued, “Which is why I hate to see you beat yourself up over this. You mean so much to me, to so many people – I just want you to treat yourself right.”

Oikawa closed his eyes, seemingly taking in all of your words and letting it process one more time in his mind. When hazel eyes were peering at you one more, he had a slight smirk on his face, but you could tell that it was morphing into a genuine smile.

“Thank you, (F/N).” He tugged on your hand his time, free arm coming around your waist to bring you into a hug.

You felt his head lean against the top of yours, relishing in the moment that you could be there for your older senpai, one that had taught you so much when you were first starting your beloved sport. There was so much you wanted to convey to him and your really believed in your heart that Oikawa deserved to go to nationals – but you were just happy that he was not mad at you anymore.

“I really mean that much to you, huh?” You could hear the telltale signs that Oikawa’s teasing voice was edging back and you lifted a brow as the setter spoke, “I knew Shiratorizawa couldn’t take you away from me. You really must love me.”

You rolled your eyes, Oikawa was coming back to you.

He lightly pushed at your shoulders, one arm still around your waist but the other holding you a good enough distance so that he could peer down at you.

“Please wait for me, for marriage.” He winked.

Immediately you were pushing his arm away and turning to hammer your elbow into his ribcage. Oikawa back away immediately, muttering a curse and yelling at your violent nature.

“You’re lucky Iwaizumi’s family left for vacation or you would’ve gotten a real ass-whooping.” You stated in a dead-pan voice, making Oikawa sigh at you and mutter true.

You were happy to have at least keep your friendship with Tōru, even if your relationships with your past female friends were nothing short of a complete garbage fire at this point.

The brunette led you by hand into the living room, where many of the others were already socializing. You could literally feel the gossip spreading already, prolonged stares at where you were joined at the hands with Tōru, the whispers between the older parents, and even his own damn sister taking one look and then winking at the both of you.

You attempted to flick his hand away, but Tōru simply chastised you for being a brat.

You had to fight the urge to kick his shins.

He took out his phone and the two of you posed for the picture, joined hands visible from the angle. You wondered if this would be worth the sudden death via Shiratorizawa’s roasting if Oikawa posted this to Instabook, but you figured he would not since you were still on tense relations with literally everyone (sans Iwaizumi) from his team.

Your savior came in the form of the doorbell, immediately springing away from the hazel-haired setter and to the last awaited guest. He still followed you over, leaning his side against the doorway as he waited for you to open the door.

“Glad you made it, Kageyama-kun.” You greeted, taking the box of food from his hands so he could take his shoes off.

“Thanks again, for inviting me.”

“No problem. Make yourself at home.”

Turning back to Oikawa, you could see he was standing at full attention now - posture haughty, narrowed eyes, raised chin, and a small scowl on his visage.

You wondered if there would be a fight today.

Kageyama lost to Oikawa and your friends lost to you.

What the hell were your parents thinking????

You led Kageyama back to the living room, the both of you standing awkwardly as the current Aobajōsai kids talked amongst each other. Oikawa stood the side, surveying the situation before tsking, then walking over to you and leading you to sit in the empty armchair while he leaned on the armrest. He placed a lazy arm across the back and you fought the urge to say a sarcastic remark.

It immediately became silent, parents conversing on the other side of the dining room, unknowing to the tense situation in the center of the living room amongst the young teens.

Tōru was making it pretty obvious that he was draping his presence all around you. First leading you by the hand and sitting very close to you, even encompassing himself around you via his arm.

“Since when are you so chummy?” One of the girls asked toward you.

“We’re just friends!” You immediately raised your hands in defense. Oikawa said nothing as he raised a brow.

Another one of them sputtered, “You’re friends with Oikawa, but you don’t even try with us?”

“That’s not true. I tried talking to you and you ignored me.”

You could tell she was growing agitated as she bit back, “Why should I even try? All you do is beat us – practice matches, official games, tournaments.”

“Well, I’m playing to win.” You said with a raised brow, unsure where they were going with this.

“But why couldn’t you even try to play to win with us?” She huffed, “I get it. You wanted to be on a team of absolute winners and obviously that does not mean us. You’re the one who walked away because we weren’t worth it, right?”

You tried to get a word in, but she raised her hand for you to stop. Turning her head away from you, it was clear that no matter what you said, she was not going to listen. You looked at the other friends you had from Kitagawa Daiichi, most frowning before averting their eyes from you.

One of them took one hard look at you, keeping your eye contact, before she got up and walked away.

You felt the pain pinprick behind your eyes, the small sign of indication that tears were building on your visage. Not wanting to show your weak state to people who obviously hate you at this point, you quickly stood up and made your way to the back-porch area. Oikawa attempted to stop you, but you finagled your hand out of his grasp as you left.

You leaned against the wooden railing, wondering just how fucked up the situation grew and how different it could have been.

It hurt even more knowing that her words were true. You tried so hard, your last year of junior high, to pass the entrance exam for Shiratorizawa. That was your main goal the entire time, get into your dream school and that will make you an absolute winner. You had never, once, considered going to Aobajōsai as something desirable. It was not your second choice and honestly not even your third (Itachiyama and Fukurōdani reserved those spots). Aobajōsai sat as your last choice, something you did not actually want to do since it was inferior in your view.

But for your friends, it was their main and only choice.

You would never regret going to Shiratorizawa, it was your school and just because they resented it, did not mean that you did not deserve the title of winners.

But it still hurt that they hated you thusly.

You fought the urge to scream at the sky, when you felt an awkward, but comforting hand on your shoulder.

“They hate me too.”

“They don’t hide it well, Kageyama-kun.” You turned to him fully, a wistful smile on your face.

“It seems… Oikawa still treasures you.”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, he can be a complete asswipe.” Kageyama smiled at this, “But he’s still a brilliant setter and someone I wish the best for.”

Kageyama leaned his arms against the rail, eyes still trained on you. “Why do you care so much about people who want nothing to do with you?”

“I hate that I care so much.” You admitted, “But they were my friends – I held a leadership position for two years, even as their captain goddamnit. My time with them meant so much to me and it just hurts that it obviously didn’t have the same impact.”

Kageyama looked at you fully, a wondering expression on his visage.

“Was it worth it? Going to Shiratorizawa?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing.” You stated. “You?”

“I would still go to Karasuno.”

“Really? King of the Court?” You teased and watched the angry tick form at his forehead, “You wouldn’t come to the school of swans and absolute winners?”

Kageyama had a grim smile, one that indicated that he was thinking hard. “Now, probably not.”

“Wait, really?”

“No.” He hesitated, “I think I can really grow with Karasuno.”

“That’s great to hear.”  You smiled,  “Then let’s continue to live without regrets.”

“I try, but I understand.” Kageyama replied.

“Oh?”

“I remember what it’s like to turn around and no longer see a team.”

You felt your heart sag, recalling the headlines of Kitagama Daiichi’s loss. “But that won’t happen on Karasuno, right?”

Kageyama looked down and smiled, “No. It won’t.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m still rooting for you.” You said as you winked, causing Kageyama to flush red immediately.

The two of you stood in comfortable silence until the screen door opened.

“Never thought I’d see you two together like this.” Oikawa observed from the doorway.

“It’s not like that.” You waved your hand to casually dismiss his statement.

Oikawa walked toward Kageyama, stopping only at an arm’s length from him. “Good, I’ll have you know (F/N) is waiting for me for marriage.”

You actually tried to punch him in the stomach, like a full-on solid right cross on the annoying brunette, but Oikawa nearly growled and maneuvered you instead. Now, your arm was twisted behind your back and you felt Oikawa’s chest against your spine. You were about to tell Kageyama that Tōru was joking and would get a formal ass-whopping from Iwaizumi when you let him know, but you heard another voice call from just inside the house.

“Oh, this is where you all were! We’re starting dinner, come inside!” Your mom urged.

The other students said nothing when you joined them this time, probably only since you were now in the presence of parents and real adults. Kageyama sat on your right while Oikawa was on your left, you attempted to include both of them in conversation, but it was obvious that anything either setter said would immediately set the other off.

“Kageyama, would you like some more meat?” You asked, turning to him with a hopeful smile.

“Why don’t you pass me that plate instead, (F/N)?” Oikawa immediately countered before he could even answer.

Oikawa snapped another picture at dinner, one with you alongside him and flashing a peace sign at the camera and Kageyama munching away in the background as he listened passively to the others.

After dinner you returned back outside to the patio with Kageyama, now joined by others as they flit through the house.

“God, I’m sorry this is so awful.” You stated as you stood alongside the porch, shoulders touching side-by-side.

“It could be worse.” Kageyama offered, “Thank you for including me.”

“Always.” You replied, “I know we weren’t exactly close, but I did miss you for what its worth.”

Kageyama hesitated, “You don’t have to say that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“No one missed me in junior high.”

You poked him in the chest and demanded his whole attention, “Well, I did.”

The both of you lingered there for the night. Catching up on lost time and for the various woes you had in high school. Kageyama was still quiet as ever, but still offered words not unkindly throughout the conversation. 

It was nice to have one-on-one time with the setter. To think that even being from the same school, the times you were able to do this could be counted on two hands. You hardly ever sat down and had a serious talk with him in the past and any insight into the misunderstood setter had you hanging onto every word.

It was no surprise later that the Karasuno setter was the first to leave. You did not blame the pour soul since he was literally the most far removed from the families present (the next probably being you).

Walking Kageyama out the door and to your front-gate, you started. “I don’t know what it is with Oikawa and you. He’s almost as bad as Ushijima when he’s with Oikawa.”

Kageyama raised a brow, unsure just how the proper Ushijima could be anything but.

“Anyway, don’t listen to Tōru.”

He cracked a smile, “I never do.”

You lightly pushed his shoulder, “We both know that’s a lie.”

Kageyama just kept on smiling, not saying anything as he looked up at the night sky.

“Thanks for coming over. Sorry that literally everyone hates us.” You joked, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but stay in touch, okay?”

The little awkward bean nodded, but you could tell that this goodbye was incomplete. He offered a handshake, but that seemed too formal considering your friendship. You took the hand for a second, before pulling it and wrapping an arm around him into a hug.

“Get home safe, Kageyama-kun.” You murmured against his chest and felt the deep rumble that signified his affirmation. His other hand curled around you hesitantly, unsure in his actions as he tried his best to reciprocate the hug.

“Thank you, (L/N).”

Waving one last time, you saw Kageyama make his way down the street before he turned fully on his walk back home.

“I don’t remember the two of you being that close in junior high.” You heard Tōru’s familiar voice from the doorway. It seemed the brunet was constantly walking in and spying on your interactions with Kageyama.

“Maybe your judgement is always clouded around a certain blueberry.” You stated as you walked back into the house.

Oikawa rolled his eyes then placed a lazy arm around your waist, guiding you back inside.

“I don’t feel comfortable seeing my fiancé alone with my annoying kouhai.”

“Don’t you dare say that in front of the real adults.”

Oikawa chuckled at your vernacular, but his hand on your body only tightened. You looked at him with an inquisitive stare, then pointed to the offending limb.

“Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Why? Can’t resist me if I continue?”

You sighed before moving to poke him on the forehead.

He grabbed your hand quickly and pulled it close to his bodice, pushing you forward to lean further into Oikawa’s chest. Surprised at the action, he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closing from the comfort of the close proximity. One arm was around your waist while the other was in your hair. 

You and Oikawa had always joked around, but never had you actually flirted. But feeling his large hands on your body and the soothing beat of his heart under your own, it was strange.

Oikawa whispered against your forehead, “I’m glad Shiratorizawa hasn’t changed you.”

You leaned back to look him fully in the eyes and returned in a similar tone of voice, “Don’t let it change you either.”

Oikawa had a small smile at that.

“Don’t stop on my accord.”

You jumped in surprised and tried to spring away from the brunet immediately, who slowly let go of his hold and allowed you room to stand next to him, arms still touching.

“It’s nothing like that.” You started, but Tōru’s sister just smiled and walked away, muttering about young love.

The rest of the night was thankfully uneventful, Oikawa giving you space to converse with his fellow schoolmates and you spent time playing with Takeru, his cute little nephew. You made sure to keep your words guarded around the other parents, when they commended you for your recent win at the tournament. It was weird, to say the least, to accept the compliments and praise of parents who had kids on the losing side (and they were present too! oof). At least, if it seemed your Kitagawa Daiichi friends were about to spite fire at you, Oikawa was quick to intervene and even stand by your side.

You were sure to pass out once everyone left the house, helping your mom in some light cleaning but saving the shore of it for future you.

Turning to your phone on the nightstand, since your mom utterly refused for you to use it when guests were around, you spotted dozens of missed texts and fought the urge to groan aloud.

You scrolled all the way back to the first message.

GroupChat: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼ д ͡༽୨

23:11   From: Captain-Sama!           what the fuck attached: instabook.jpg; screenshot.jpg;

23:11   From: the most tender Salami            looks like (f/n) actually took our advice and went with oiks and not miya

23:11   From: My only Okaasan/Eita            wait but what if they’ve been related this whole time?

23:11   From: Captain-Sama!           yeah it is family day

23:11   From: the most tender Salami           …

23:11   From: the most tender Salami           then that would mean an Oikawa actually does go to Shiratorizawa

23:12   From: Captain-Sama!           LMAO

23:12   From: Ushiwaka-sama!           this is not what I meant

23:12   From: My only Okaasan/Eita           we know, waka

23:12   From: the most tender Salami           but how can we confirm it

23:12   From: Captain-Sama!           (・_・)

23:12   From: Captain-Sama!           @kenjiro @kawanishi pls respond its urgent

23:12   From: the most tender Salami           @kenjiro @kawanishi help ive fallen and cant get up

23:27   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)           they are not related

23:27   From: Captain-Sama!           I KNEW THEY WERE DATING

23:27   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩           lmao no way

23:27   From: the most tender Salami           I need more receipts

23:27   From: Captain-Sama!           I think my ship is sailing (´∀｀)♡

23:28   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)           i don’t think so

23:28   From: Captain-Sama!           but they’re hOlDiNg HaNdS

You caught the gist of their conversation and scrolled down to the bottom, unwilling to read everything since you would have a whole hour to catch up to and with your sleepy eyes that just won’t do.

Without regard to whatever the last text was, you started:

00:57   From: do you know da wae           oiks is an old family friend

00:57   From: do you know da wae           my parents keep in touch w/ a lot of my ex-friends parents from Kitagawa

00:57   From: Captain-Sama!           oof sounds awk

00:57   From: do you know da wae           you have no idea

00:57   From: Kenjiro (`へ´*)           wait your celebratory dinner was w/ the ex-friends you just beat ??

00:58   From: do you know da wae           yeah…

00:58   From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩           oof

00:58   From: do you know da wae           oikawa was the only one from Seijō willing to talk to me without the need to shank me

00:58   From: do you know da wae           and even then they made sure to verbally roast me at every opportunity

00:58   From: the most tender Salami           wow

00:59   From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` )           we love you (L/N)!

00:59   From: Captain-Sama!           just know that we’re always here for you! ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

You smiled then and offered thanks, before shutting off your phone and finally getting a good nights rest after such an awful day.

The next day at breakfast, you just smiled and complimented your parents for their thoughtful dinner and how it was a success – saying nothing about the tension between you and the friends you used to have. It was your final day home and there was not a single thing you wanted to do.

Most of the people who lived around this area went to either Karasuno or Aobajōsai and then was no point in meeting up with your current friends at Shiratorizawa just to have to go back home and then head back to school the next day. You cherished the meal with your parents, but both your parents had plans later in the afternoon. Your mom sensed your anxiousness and tasked you with small chores.

You finally were interested when she directed, “(F/N), Kageama-kun forgot his leftovers yesterday. Mind bringing them over?”

With a quick nod and changing into your outdoor shoes, you headed out the door and a few streets over to the Kageyama household.

The windows were shut and no signs of light were seen. Kageyama seemed like the type who would do anything to keep himself in top form and you wondered the possibility if he was out jogging or something.

Ringing the bell, you heard some movement inside until the setter finally opened his front-door in surprise.

“(L/N)-san?”

You lifted the container of food into his point of view, “You forgot to bring some food home last night.”

“Oh, thanks.” He took it from you and paused, “Would you like to come in?”

You nodded at his polite gesture and greeted with a familiar sight. This was not the first time you were in his home, but it surely seemed the same from the last time. Kageyama seemed like a clean, tidy sort and undoubtedly his parents were as well.

You noticed his family picture displayed proudly on the center coffee table, an innocent smile on Kageyama’s face as he was nestled between his two parents. It looked like a picture-perfect family, reflecting only questions as to what happened to them now.

“You know, I can’t believe that I have never met your parents.” You commented, looking at the picture and him following your gaze.

He hesitated before replying, “I’m not surprised.”

You looked at Kageyama fully, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they’ve ever watched me play.” He admitted, eyes on the floor at the sad realization.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.” He had a tense expression on, “But I like your family.”

“Thanks, they’re pretty embarrassing.”

“I..” Kageyama was hesitating in his words a lot, concerning this subject, you noticed. “There are no words to say how thankful I am toward your parents, for what they said and do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You comforted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “They really are proud of you. And so am I, really. Believe me, great things are in store for you.”

That, in your mind, marked the notable shift in your relationship with Kageyama. Even after the weekend break for Family Day, you still were able to keep in contact with the setter. Previously, you were unsure where you stood with the King of the Court. But now with shared numbers and daily texting with one another, you were glad to have held your friendship with the blueberry.

Everyone was training for the Spring Playoffs, everyone’s distant goal of nationals constantly in mind. As the reining champions of your Prefecture, this was the time of year to prove once again why that was so. You were defending for three years straight, Ushijima standing tall as the prime representative of your school.

As the regular setter, you knew better than anyone the massive amount of pressure and training it took to get to this stage. And you made sure to prove it during the official matches.

You felt your heart physically break when Karasuno faced off against Aobajōsai. A school that even you had remembered as a fallen-powerhouse was now over-powering a longstanding rival of your own school.

Oikawa did not cry at the end of the game, but your connection to the older setter was enough to feel the pure anguish and annoyance that was raging in his heart. You wanted to just say something to the brunet, but when Ushijima rushed Oikawa after the match, you figured that it was probably not the best timing. (You also did not want to risk the wrath of the others).

You waited behind a pillar, listening to Oikawa and his unusually intimidating voice. Both alpha males turned and stalked in opposite directions and you fought the urge to call out to the setter. Rather than leaving it to another moment, one that would be much easier for him to ignore, you ran behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

He squeaked out in surprise, “Wha-”

“You deserve the world Oikawa and I know you’re meant for more than what this prefecture has to offer.” You interrupted before walking around to be face-to-face to him, “You’re going to stand on an international stage. And no one will be able to stop you there.”

He stayed quiet, eyes hard as they examined your own, as if he was trying to gauge how honest your words were.

“Besides, I wouldn’t marry a man who wasn’t prepared to take over the world.” You joked.

He cracked a small smile then, and slowly wrapped his arms around your waist. “Thank you.”

You smiled brightly, a hand on his chest while the other was on cheek, to full look at him. “I just want you to be as proud as I am about you.”

Oikawa looked away, turning to the side before returning his gaze back to you. “Why couldn’t you come to Aobajōsai?”

You were internally taken aback at the question and you were sure it showed on your face.

“I never asked before, I just accepted that my counterpart on the women’s team was on a completely different track.” Oikawa explained, voice a small whisper. “And it made me wonder how someone like you, who tried so hard against Shiratorizawa in junior high and still lost, did not even try to fight them.”

His voice was hard by the time the last few words came-out and this felt like an incredibly different Oikawa.

“You claim so hard that you care about us, about me.” Oikawa bit-out, “Then why didn’t you even try to fight for us?”

“I, everyone knew from the start-“

“You were the pillar of the team, the cog that made it run. You gave them strength and you knew that and you still left.”

You were sure this was something Oikawa had been waiting to get off his chest, a thought that had lingered for years apparently now, and were unsure what you could say to placate the remnants of your friendship with the setter.

“The fact of it all is that we cared to keep our family together even if meant not being an absolute winner.” Oikawa stated, a bruising hold on your waist now. You could not find it in yourself to push him away, “Which obviously, didn’t matter as much to you.”

“Oikawa, please.” You whispered out, unsure what you were asking for.

“Please what? To stop saying the truth or making you finally realize it?” His gaze was a predatory-kind, one you had spotted multiple times on the court and one that displayed an intimidating anger. “Are you really supposed to refer to your fiancé by his last-name?”

“Why are you being like this?” Your voice came out weakly and you barely recognized it.

“Why were we your last choice, (F/N)-chan?”

You pushed at his chest, but his hold did not budge and you were sure that your face demonstrated the absolute fear you had toward your friend of five years.

“That’s enough.” You heard the comforting voice of someone familiar along with multiple footsteps.

When you looked over Oikawa’s shoulder to see Semi’s confused one, it immediately hardened at seeing you so scared. He did not hesitate to push you two apart, standing as a shield in front of you between you and Oikawa as Kenjirō put a protective hold on your shoulder and Kawanishi scanned you up and down.

“What happened here?” You heard Iwaizumi’s voice as he rushed down the hall.

His best-friend, who knew Oikawa almost better than himself, saw the raging anger in the setter and for once and only once – it was aimed toward you alone.

The brunet took one last look at you, hard and piercing despite the addition of multiple people, before her turned away and walked back toward his team.

Iwaizumi did not leave immediately, looking at you with an apologetic disposition before following behind his friend.

“Are you alright?” Semi asked once both boys were out of eyesight.

You reassured them you were fine, but your voice could not even convince yourself.

“Oikawa might’ve been your friend, but he’s our rival now and he is trying to shake you before your final, don’t let him get to you.” Semi explained.

You nodded meekly, allowing Kenjirō to guide you back to the Shiratorizawa area. The others were quiet as you approached and you wanted nothing more than for the others to forget this ever happened.

“If only we could crush him tomorrow.” Tendou stated with narrowed eyes as he looked at your rosy nose and distraught eyes.

“Thanks, Salami.” You attempted a small smile.

“Ugh, I hate seeing you like this.” Tendou commented before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder and ruffling your hair.

Oikawa was right, to an extent. You and him had started on the same track, leaders of each respective Kitagawa Daiichi volleyball team and one of many victims to the Shiratorizawa streak. You had both felt the pure anguish of utter defeat, the fact that you had both tried your best and it still was not enough. And instead of following Oikawa’s track, you had chosen to attend the school that often broke your heart.

You wondered how long Oikawa had thought this but said nothing.

You were sure the bitter defeat was a large impetus to how he just treated you. But it still stung to know that was some pure honesty and truth in his words. You wanted the ground to swallow you up, to take away the memories of the last hour and stop yourself from seeing one of your close friends because one of your now many rivals.

Goshiki sat with you on the bus and made a point of keeping your mind off of what had just happened. It was obvious that everyone knew by now, from your captain’s reassuring stare and Yamagata putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, they were thankfully trying to keep their words guarded, at least. You smiled at the first-year, appreciative that he was trying so hard.

You saw from your peripheral that Kenjirō would often turn in his seat to check-in on you (it’s not like he was trying to hide it anyway). Yamagata offered you his spare juice box and Ushijima offered to pickup ice-cream for you on his usual night jog. It made you laugh at the offer, but accept it nonetheless since this was a rare occurrence.

Why do you care so much about people who want nothing to do with you?

Kageyama’s word rang in your mind and you thought, maybe, it was time to let Oikawa and the others go. Your heart ached at the thought, but you doubted that they shared the same sentiment about you. They weren’t staying up at night, losing sleep as they thought about you.

No, they hated you.

And when Iwaizumi texted you the next morning, you just said you were fine and it was probably for the best.

Besides, you had other things to worry about rather than people who cared nothing for you.

The next night was the finals between the men’s teams, Karasuno bringing Shiratorizawa to a full five sets, one that had you watching with baited breath. The crowds themselves seemed to have their own battle, cheering with their whole hearts to the point that you were sure you were rocking the stadium. You wished Kageyama good luck before the match, his face erupting in a rather obvious blush as his grey-headed senpai smiled and just patted him on the back. You did the same with Shirabu and Kawanishi as well.

Shirabu just smirked and Kawanishi patted your head.

Assholes.

But now you were seeing more emotion on each second-years’ faces than ever before. Yes, Shirabu and Kawanishi were salt squad and had no qualms using biting words or sarcasm. And yet the setter was much more expressive, displaying even fear and surprise as the game went on. You felt your heart surge when you saw Kawanishi get a serious face on, eyes narrowing as you saw the little hamster in his head run at full speed, guess-blocking working at it’s peak form now.

Kageyama was no exception, acting as one of the main conductors of the game and even having to sit out from his diminishing stamina. His jump serves were much better than during the Interhigh, you wondered if you should give yourself a pat on the back or kick your own ass for helping him against your own team. 

But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind, while the team of Karasuno was strong through their constant attacks and teamwork – it was Kageyama who was standing out the most during this game.

Hinata and that blond middle-blocker were interesting players, but your eyes always gravitated back to Kageyama. From his jump-serve that had even your powerhouse school on their toes to his resilient efforts to keep playing despite exhaustion, Kageyama kept your attention for the entire duration of the game.

You wondered if Kageyama’s parents were present.

You were not sure who to cheer for. Ushijima proved his unending stamina, earning point after point even when it was obvious that it was getting tiresome. It made your own shoulder hurt just looking at him. Tendou showcased the true power of the guess-blocker, eyes roaming the shorter setter with keen eyes.

All of this came to a crashing end.

21-19

The absolute winners were retiring.

Everyone was tasked with one-hundred serves, even the women’s team who had their own finals in a few more days.

Shirabu and Kawanishi were tenser than usual, you noticed during class and again during lunch. Shirabu’s not-girlfriend attempted to placate his mood with ice-cream, but she later iterated to you that in the end he just needed a long hug. You tried to do the same to Kawanishi, who simply took it in pure silence as he reciprocated the gesture.

Tendou was seemingly placated when you gifted him a home-cooked meal from a recent care-package from mom, but you knew the third-year well enough that his dark paradise was a hole in his heart that could never be replaced. Ushijima was hard to read, but nonetheless thanked you when you had given him a small cactus.

The men’s game put your nerves more at odds, despite how much you were trying to hard it with a strong face. Karasuno, a team that rose from nothing to become the team heading to nationals, they were able to beat the indomitable champions of Miyagi. It made your stomach churn at the possibility of losing to your long-term rivals at Aobajōsai.

The day after the game, everyone could observe your anxieties and had decided that maybe you needed some good luck help from home. You used to always have a ritual when you were particularly nervous and that involved a certain dish you mom made as a charm before big games and it also helped to have the words of your parents affirm your confidence. Your coach agreed to this idea, spying your shaky hands and unsure moves in practice.

Before home you stopped at the Kageyama’s, Tobio answering the door for you.

“Just wanted to say congratulations.” You greeted before taking something out of your bag. “I remember you used to love these milk cartons in junior high, so consider this a celebratory gift.”

“Thank you.” He had a small smile, one that you were sure he was not even aware of. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”

“Why would I be?”

“Shiratorizawa...”

“Is just a school.” You interrupted, thinking back to your ex-friends from Aobajōsai, “We all love volleyball and it’s time we all accepted there can only be one winner.”

He nodded at your explanation.

“Besides, you should come watch me win our spot to nationals.” You winked, “Me versus Seijō. It’ll be one hell of a game.”

“I know you’ll do great.” Hearing a compliment like that from Kageyama, it was strange. But you smiled anyway. “What are you doing in the area?”

“Ah. I’ve been getting nervous from seeing your game, honestly. So I was allowed to go home tonight for a good luck charm and to help calm myself.”

“Nervous? But you’re not playing us.”

“I know that!” You rolled your eyes in amusement. “But Shiratorizawa has always been considered as the winners. And no offense, nobody saw your win as possible. But you did it anyway. And the same thing could very well happen to us.”

Kageyama lightly poked on your forehead. “Boke, focus on the fight in front of you. You’ve always won against them, right? In practice matches and last tournament, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then use it to your benefit, but don’t get complacent.”

You paused and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“As tempting as that is, I have to get home to my parents and then head back to school.” You looked at his house once more, “Are your parents home?”

“No.” You frowned, but said nothing and waited for him to continue. “Neither of them have been, for a few days.”

“Have you heard from them?”

Kageyama turned away, “They don’t even know I’m going to nationals.”

You put a small hand in the crook of his elbow, “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Sure.”

Since then, the match between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa was spurning you on, the thought of further rivals exciting you rather than scaring you now. You could not deny the fact that seeing both your parents and Kageyama had lightened your spirits. 

And, not for the first time, you pondered over your strange relationship with the young setter.

You were not as close to him as you were to Oikawa in the past. And yet Kageyama was the one who tried just a little bit harder to hold onto you than your brunet friend. You could not deny the slight attraction you felt toward the blueberry as well, his shy and blunt nature something you were akin to. If anything, you knew better than most how much Kageyama had changed in the last few years.

But you had bigger things to worry about now.

Like going to nationals.

You relished in the slight burn in the palm of your hand at your untouched jump-serves, success rate higher than usual. And when you stood on the court itself, the name Shiratorizawa echoing as it cheered through the stands, you felt pride course through your veins.

When both Shirabu and Kawanishi wished you luck before your match, you felt the need to knock their heads together like coconuts. They tried to do it in the chillest way possible, muttering it to you with their hands in their pockets. You watched Tendou roll his eyes from behind Shirabu. Instead, you tugged them both into a hug before either could be too cool to refuse it.

Ushijima patted you on the shoulder and reiterated the tips he had given you in the gym the day before – it seemed Waka was actually watching you intently and you thanked him for his observance and helpful advice. Goshiki offered you a thumbs-up and Tendou patted you on the head for the nth time, but you smiled at both. Semi and Reon stood to the side with genuine smiles, since neither were particularly close to you, but you appreciated their presence anyway.

You were placed in the front line, your team’s starting position opting for the most attack options in the front row. The women’s team for Aobajōsai was similar in that it was a complete team, but a team not as good as Oikawa’s. 

The synergy and trust between the setter and Iwaizumi was not something that could be replicated, only earned through more than a decade of true friendship. Rather, the women’s team lacked the power necessary from their ace and it was easy for a team as skilled as yours to pick up their serves defensively. Shiratorizawa relied on the power of their ace – and for a team with the best volleyball players in the Prefecture, it was a winning strategy.

Once you were rotated to serve, the entire stadium was separated from you mentally. It was just you and the game in front of you, not the loud shouts of Seijō or the pressured looks from your older captain. You let it lose, scoring with a single touch on your serve.

A no-touch service ace – a feat only you were capable of throughout the entire game.

You relished at the cheer of your name, the powerhouse clout proven when seemingly the entire stadium erupted in your name. It was a skill you had alone, not even your older senpai’s capable of scoring on a no-touch ace. And yet you did it multiple times. You spotted the clenched fists of your previous friends and their glares in your direction. But that did not deter you from your goal as you served with your entirety.

You glanced at the scoreboard, only one more point and you would be the reigning victor.

A deep breath.

In only three sets, it was over.

You were going to nationals.

Everything after that was hazy – you remember your ace literally picking you up. She was a good ten centimeters taller than you and built like a complete brickhouse, so that definitely helped. You remembered bowing to both your current and previous friends, but not a single one of them took your hand to shake at the lineup.

If you were still unsure of your relationship, it was quite clear that they hated you now.

The men’s team, sporting their similar tracksuits, clapped along in the stands as you thanked the audience. Your star-struck facial expression must have been obvious, since your fellow teammates kept poking at your cheeks and teasing your appearance.

“No touch service ace!” Your ace yelled aloud, grabbing you in another hug and lifting you like a trophy for the second time in the last ten minutes.

“You are an absolute monster, (F/N)!” Your captain commented as she laughed, arms in the air as she celebrated as well.

You felt the congrats and praise of everyone around you – your stoic coach even smiling in your direction (a small act of praise, but that was probably the best you were going to get). You felt the murmurs of the crowd around you, an immense audience that had just watched you singlehanded slam a ball away from an entire team.

It was liberating.

You along with a few others walked out from the courts, wanting to get some air away from the ruckus at the center of it all. Some wandered to the bathroom and others wanted to immediately run to their significant others.

You wandered out in the hall and the first non-teammate you ran into was a familiar brunet, running and hugging him from behind.

“(F/N), I will break your bones and make a chair out of them.”

“Shirabu, take me out to dinner first.” You joked, arms never leaving his middle even after he turned around towards you. “Come on, I just won. Grant me this?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes, but did eventually return your hug, ears suddenly red at the endearing gesture. “You serve well.”

“Thanks, maybe I’ll give you some private lessons.” You winked, earning you a push to your face immediately, putting a good foot between you and the other setter.

You laughed, the sound echoing through the hall and earning a small tsk, signaling that you two were not the only ones in the near-empty hall. You saw Shirabu tense in your peripheral, before he stepped in front of you between you and the other man with his one arm raised as if it was a protective wall.

He had his chin-up, arm on his waist as he regarded you with narrowed eyes and a dangerous expression.

“Oikawa.” You started.

“Congrats on your win.”

“Thanks.”

“Five points in the last set were yours alone, meaning twenty percent of the win was just from your serve.” Oikawa started explaining and you were unsure where he was going with this. “That’s without counting sets to the ace.”

“I suggest you leave.” Shirabu interrupted Oikawa’s external train of thought.

The brunet ignored him. “And who did you learn that jump serve from?”

You swallowed lightly, “From you.”

“And yet it was greatest weapon used today.” He narrowed his eyes, letting it travel your form as you stood there with a tight expression. “If only I had known then.”

“Let’s go, (F/N).” Shirabu stated, eyes never leaving Oikawa.

“Go ahead. I hope you think of me each and every time someone praises you on your jump-serve.”

“That’s enough.” Another voice cut in from the other end of the hallway, “She won today and not even you can take that away from her.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Kageyama’s appearance before turning to you, “Of course, this is the one you actually care about.”

“Tōru, stop.” You bit out, voice stern at this convening of setters.

“Oh, cut that out. I played a part in who you are today, you and I both know that.”

“Of course, I know that!” You exclaimed as you move to stand right in front of him, “The part you played in my life will always mean something to me, but you are not the same Oikawa I grew up with right now.”

Oikawa tsked before biting out, “Good luck at nationals.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do, dear fiancé.” Oikawa emphasized the last word, shrugging as he turned to leave the way he came.

“Whatever, it’s not like you can relate to nationals anyway!” You yelled as he walked away, watching him physically hesitate at your words, but never uttering another word toward you.

Kageyama’s eyes followed him until he was completely out of view, before he turned to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that was nothing.”

He looked as if he did not believe you, blue eyes hanging onto your appearance for a second longer before turning to the quiet Shirabu. The brunet was examining you also, eyes trained on your blank expression as if you were trying hard to convey that you were okay.

“I should freshen up or something before the ceremony.” You started, “I’ll see you in a bit. Thanks for coming Kageyama, in case I don’t see you later.”

You fought the urge to bite your lip as you ran in the direction of the bathrooms. This was supposed to be your day. The culmination of all your hard-work as you finally earn your rightful spot to nationals, it was supposed to be a day where you cheered and were happy at being at the frontlines for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And yet.

You opened the door to the women’s bathroom and came face to face with the vice-captain of Aobajōsai. Or as you once knew her in junior high, she held the same position while you were the captain.

“This isn’t over.” She immediately snarled.

“I know.”

“I hope you know that I hate you.”

“I know.” You stated in a low tone, pushing past her and into the bathroom. She huffed, silently observing you as you washed your face in the sink.

“Then do something!” She yelled, “I hate you so much I feel like I can just rip you limb from fucking limb! You were my best-friend for years and you still felt the need to leave!”

“I know. And I was wrong to diminish your feelings like that.”

“I… What?” She was still huffing, despite the confused expression on her face.

“You’re right. You guys were my closest friends since I first started school and I just… left.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because you’re right. I don’t regret going to Shiratorizawa, but it wasn’t fair of me to disregard all your feelings. I thought it was because of the rivalry between our schools, but it was because of me.” You sighed, “I’m sorry. I should’ve considered the fact that we were a family, but I’m not like Oikawa.”

She clenched her jaw but said nothing.

“I didn’t choose to stay with my friends, I chose for my future. And that was selfish of me, but I won’t change it.”

She sucked in a deep breath and stated, “I hate you.”

“I know.”

With a long-hard look, she huffed yet again. “Good luck at nationals, you bitch.”

You could not help the chuckle that escaped your lips, but she had already turned to leave out the door by the time you turned back to where she was. At least you had said your peace, there was nothing left for you to do if they could not accept even that.

The prefecture ceremony was a blur, names announced and cheers erupting at each team-member. You remember looking over to Aobajōsai on multiple occasions – it seemed they were all looking at you. No matter what was happening or who was being called, you could almost guarantee that a good amount of them were glaring in your direction.

It was liberating that you could brush it off, no longer as affected as you would have been even a week ago.

“Congratulations, (F/N).” Ushijima commended as he stood towering over you.

“Thank you.” You bowed, “Your advice really helped.”

He nodded, before turning to speak to other members of your team.

“Congrats again.” Shirabu greeted with a smile.

Kawanishi said nothing as he wrapped his arms around your middle for a quick second before backing away. “You earned it.”

You rolled your eyes, unsure if he was referring to the game-winning victory points or the ‘hug’ he had given you just now.

But you loved them all anyway.

They were your family now.

Your coach started practice the same as any other day, as if you had not just earned your way to nationals seemingly the day before. You wondered if you had just dreamed up the last few days, the real match taking place soon which is why you were training so damn hard. Your ace raised a brow as you were all instructed to do more jump-serves but did not grumble aloud unless face with another consequence.

When the entire team had finished their round, the coach gathered everyone into a circle to address them.

“Hopefully, the last few days have taught you the importance of the jump-serve.” Her eyes travelled the group until they landed completely on you. You felt multiple eyes of your teammates do the same. “You could completely shut-out your opponent with this attack, stopping them from ever connecting and letting them simply suffer defeat without ever touching the ball.”

You raised a brow at her morbid description but kept on listening.

“There is no doubt why (F/N) was named MVP of the match. But do not rest on your laurels, enjoy your break but don’t get lazy.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

“We have a break?!” Your captain exclaimed in obvious excitement.

“I’ll see you all on Monday.” Your coach stated vaguely, before turning and walking away.

“Hell yes!” Your captain yelled, “Let’s clean-up faster so we can get homecooked meals, yes?”

You felt the air of amusement and laughter in the gymnasium, happy to finally go home on this warm Friday evening, without the worries of practice over the weekend. Maybe your coach was not that bad after all.

And when you woke up mid-Saturday morning in the comfort of your home, guessing maybe around ten, you stretched and relished in the rare enjoyment of sleeping-in. Waking at nearly five in the morning every day, just to jog of all things, was taking it’s toll on you. You had to learn how to enjoy life more, you mused with a small smile.

Your mom knocked on your door before entering, “You have a visitor sweetie. I suggest you freshen-up. I’ll make breakfast for the two of you, but then I have to leave!”

“Ughisdfhis.” You murmured into your pillow as your rolled over.

“Or maybe I should just invite Kageyama-kun to your room so he can see how you really are.” She teased.

Immediately you were up, springing out of bed at the aforementioned name. You grabbed an outfit you packed the night before, rushing into your bathroom to brush you teeth and look presentable before the young setter.

By the time you headed downstairs, you were as clean and crisp as a bloomed daisy.

“Good morning, Kageyama-kun.” You greeted, “To what do I owe this visit?”

He greeted you in kind and explained, “I wanted to congratulate you like you did to me before..”

You walked over to him and suddenly a box of avocados were thrust into your view, quickly grabbing hold of it as Kageyama rushed in into your arms.

“I’m sorry! You gave me milk and I remember in a magazine you said you liked avocados! I thought…!”

You laughed at the sentiment, happy that he had thought about you but amused that he had resorted to the secondhand words of a magazine of all places. “Thank you, Kageyama-kun. I love it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can –”

“Stop worrying so much. It’s a present from you, of course I’ll love it.” You put the box on the floor and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem.” You were openly staring at him, eyes trained on his flushed appearance as he shyly attempted to look away from your strong stare. “Boke, stop staring at me.”

You chuckled, turning your gaze to the side before back to him. “There’s just something about you that I like, Kageyama-kun.”

It seemed as if he stopped breathing, expression similar to a fish out of water.

“Like, like-like?”

You chuckled, “What? Am I not allowed to?”

“No!” He seemed exasperated, hands raised as if to stop you. “No… I’m just surprised.”

“Why?”

“Oikawa…”

“Has only ever just been a friend.” You quickly finished the sentence for him.

“Or Shirabu…”

“Has a semi-girlfriend who would literally kill me.”

“Oh.”

You had a brow lifted, already expecting this surprised and unsure reaction from Kageyama. He was always socially stunted and did not hold it to him that he had yet to actually respond to your confession. Kageyama stood, wide-eyed and barely blinking, staring straight into your eyes as if looking for a hint of farce.

“I like you, too.” He stated plainly and if not for the seriousness of the situation, you would had chuckled at his solemn tone of voice.

“That’s reassuring to hear.” You responded, smile on your face widening.

“Are you sure you like me?”

You chuckled lightly, “For someone who claims to like me, it seems as if you’re pushing me away.”

“No!” Kageyama urged, “Just making sure, boke.”

You rolled your eyes, smile still prevalent at his words. This was the same Kageyama who was labeled as King of the Court – and for good reason too. He was relentless and exuded confidence in the one medium that barely anyone could match his all-around skill. There were times, as you watched him on the court, that you were utterly impressed with his abilities. And yet now..

It was clear that Kageyama was one thing right now: unsure. And you found the need to somehow reassure him, to let him now fully and transparently that he was the complete object of your affections.

So you stepped toward the now shy setter and took his hand in yours. Widely smiling, you were about to ask him something before he suddenly interrupted.

“Would you like…” He paused, looking to the side before turning back to you. “Would you like to date?”

“I would love to.”

He smiled back, tightening his hold on your hand. It was quite clear that the entirety of your own could fit in his palm – it was a nice feeling. Unlike the multiple times that the situation called for being your hand held, like with Oikawa being an ass or the occasional Shirabu (like when he was dragging you away due to embarrassment), this felt right.

“How about today? Are you free right now?” He asked, mustering more courage now knowing that you would most likely say yes.

“Sure, just let me get ready and we can get brunch.”

Your mom was not at all surprised when she returned, seeing you getting ready for your first-date ever. Kageyama was still waiting in the living room, hands clenched at the top of his knees while the television played ignored in the background. It was evident from the expression on his face that his mind was reeling over the past hour and over the implications of the next one. You were not the only one nervous, but this was Kageyama of all people, you understood him. If only there was a way for you to convey this to him.

Kageyama overheard your mom’s declaration of happiness at the situation and fought the urge to blush, was he that obvious? Your mother, uncaring of the rather uncomfortable setter sitting in her living room, walked out of the kitchen to shoot him a thumbs-up and ink. When Kageyama only blushed harder, your mom laughed and held out her hand, your father slapping an annoyed twenty bucks into her expecting palm.

“Don’t make me regret trusting you, boy.” Your father warned, a pointer finger in Kageyama’s direction as he was dragged away and out the house by your mother for ‘privacy.’

You shoved the door closed behind you as they left, back against the wood once both were gone. “Don’t mind them, they’re embarrassing.”

Kageyama smiled, then stood and hesitantly took your hand in his. “No, don’t worry about it. I love your family.”

You felt your own expression widen as it matched his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in yours. “Thanks. Where to?”

Kageyama nodded, saying nothing as he guided you out the house and down the street. You had good idea about where you were headed, Kageyama was a man of routine and rarely strayed from his likes unless necessary, so simply entrusted your walk to him.

You peered up at his handsome visage, black mop of hair sitting naturally with a small rosiness dusting his cheeks. He was Kageyama obviously, but much different from the one you went to junior high with. This was a man weathered and you appreciated his journey from dictator to kind blueberry, happy to have seen his growth.

You lifted a free hand to push some of his longer bangs back behind his ear, the feeling unnatural to the poor setter, who immediately froze at the physical contact.

“You’re so cute, Kageyama-kun.” You complimented, before turning back to your route and lightly tugging on his hand to keep walking.

“Boke.” Breaking his stupor, Kageyama looked to the side and muttered in a low voice. “You’re the cute one.”

You fought the urge to laugh, but wanted to do something to reflect your feelings. You knew that a kiss would nearly cause the setter to explode and debated it as your stared at his lips and later at his cheek. Your train of thought must have been obvious, since Kageyama’s eyes widened unsurely.

Knowing you did not want to implode this poor boy’s heart, you took his hand in yours and placed a harmless kiss.

He was red the whole day. 

[st-just]

I've been hearing good things about Practical Guide to Evil. Thoughts?

It is quite good! If you need a million and a half words of decent-to-amazing fantasy, would recommend.

So, complaints first-

It starts off relatively weak, and the first..two? books are much more YA (derogatory) than the rest of the series, but it steadily improves. (The worldbuilding also goes from ‘generic D&D setting with interesting flourishes” to “reasonably fleshed out and fascinating world” over the same period). The pacing is...iffy in places, but I’m like 60% sure that will be much improved by reading it in the archives instead of week-to-week updates. With a few noble exceptions, antagonists tend to get more cheap heat than actually  deserved by the thread they pose to Cat (but I’m reliably informed by literally everyone that my standard for ‘tense dramatic conflict’ is a normal persons’ ‘ending unending torrent of misery and woe’). Thinking too hard about how important Stories and Names are actually supposed to be in-universe will just leave you annoyed. And, most importantly, I am increasingly skeptical it’s going to have time for an ending that doesn’t feel incredibly rushed if the current book is the last one like it’s supposed to be.

Now, if all that hasn’t scared you off, then I really would recommend giving it a try. The narration actually manages to be really funny on a regular basis, but does an excellent job of shifting to high drama at the right moments, and it’s honestly kind of unbelievable that there’s as much in-universe poetry and song lyrics in it that don’t actually suck (some are really lovely!). Cat is, well honestly a bit too protagonisty for my tastes, but she’s generally a really good protagonist and her internal monologue is an absolute delight, and I’m absolutely certain you’ll love at least a few of the supporting characters.

...and I’m not sure how much more detailed I can make my recomendation without getting spoilery, honestly. Here’s the link, anyway. And here’s a description of the basic conceit I wrote.

[hieromonkcharbel]

Woe to us, for whilst before us lies our departure from this world, in which we dwell as transients and temporary residents, we are bound by concerns for worldly and perishable things. But when the moment of the inevitable journey away from this world – the journey of no return - comes to us, then we shall hold sway over not one single thing of all that we have so much cared for. Wow to us, since, though it is certain that we will be held accountable before the fearful Judge for all the deeds of our earthly life - for gossip, for the evil and unclean thoughts of our souls, and so on - nonetheless we go through the whole of our lives irresponsibly and inattentive to our souls.

Because of this indifference, there await us the unquenchable flames of Gehenna and the fires of Hell, the sleepless worm, the grinding and gnashing of teeth, and, above all, eternal shame before the Angels, men, and all creation.

Woe to us, since, though we cannot endure the stings and bites of fleas, nits, lice, flies, and mosquitoes, we nonetheless accept, without protest, being wounded all over and bitten by the spiritual dragon, with his death-bearing stings of destruction, being swallowed up like some kind of drink, without thinking of fleeing and without wishing to resist his attacks.

How, since we make no endeavor whatever for our salvation here and now, will we be able to endure the fearful and unending torments of the afterlife?

The Evergetinos

from Abba Isaiah

[shuuen-no-cimory]

Disgusting Gratitude (An FGO Ashiya Douman fanfic)

This was a fanfic I wrote after lurking on twitter for so long just to find threads about Douman (the historical person). And yeah, find a real nice stuff on an account specifically created to post the stuff (real kudos for DOUMANFAN_ on twitter. Using machine translate is hard but I’m glad I can find stories of him). This is a what-if story if Alter Ego was summoned on Chaldea but instead by already experienced Ritsuka, it was Ritsuka when she was about to start her Grand Order. There might be some OOC but I hope it wasn’t too much ;w;

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Chaldea's ever white walls stand tall and firm as far as he can see. It's rather empty, only the tapping sound of his boots bounces around as he swiftly walk. As storm raging madly behind the closed-off glass, the Onmyoji eyeing the unending hallway as he make his way to his Master's room. His Master,

Fujimaru Ritsuka, the supposedly last master of Chaldea at the time. The 'savior' who saved the world from Goetia's annihilation of humanity. The one who went through four Remnants and slayed him on Shimousa. The one who later, ironically enough, turn into the exterminator of Lostbelts, all for the sake of Pan-human history. The one who tore down his Mandala Hell Tree. Such titles his Master has,

Or that's what his Master supposed to be.

Right now Ritsuka is just a child who just experienced her first Singularity, whose fire on her eyes still burning with hope and passion. So green, so naive, that's the Master that command him right now. He's already ready to serve under her the time he was registered into Throne of Heroes, yet he never prepared to meet her in such state of her life.

If there's something more laughable than his repetitive defeats, then it is the fact that he was summoned by Master of Chaldea who was yet tainted by the harsh future.

Of course his appearance was making some curious uproar. An Alter Ego? Ashiya Douman? Even the Director can't believe it at first and had to rechecked multiple times to make sure the system didn't make any mistake. His tiny Master was even more curious than anyone else, for she was never heard of a servant with an Alter Ego class. He can remember how she tilted her head in confusion, "Huh... Alter Ego? Not a Caster?" My condolence to her, what a woe she has to face in the distant future once he understand why such form of him ever exist.

Nonetheless, this is a great opportunity indeed. With no one ever experience, so much to remember what he yet to do in the future, he can deceive them perfectly. By presenting himself as the mere Ashiya Douman, one of the renowned Onmyoji, the rival of Abe no Seimei, yes, his disguise is perfect.

But really, dealing with such a green Master was such a hassle. According to her, it was the director's advice for her to get to know her servants for a better teamwork on future mission. Since then, she'd come to Douman and talk about various thing with him. Sometimes she'd just ask him about the mission they had done, sometimes it is just some idle chats about what he likes, how he felt about being in Chaldea, what does he thinks about the other servants. Among those talk, he can remember one that quite piqued his interest.

"Douman-sensei," she called his name as he poured tea to her glass. He replied with an everchanging smile, "What can I help my Master with today?" As she thanked him after receiving her glass, she calmly spoke, "When I was small, my granpa used to tell me stories about you and the Onmyojis a lot," her eyes filled with tender reminiscence, "He would tell stories about you quite often too, but how was the life of Onmyoji like?"

Douman who was about to sip his tea stopped for a moment, "Nnnn, you sure a curious one, aren't you, Master?" he was silent as he sips the tea calmly, "But are you sure you want to hear the story of this humble servant of yours?"

"Of course!" she excitedly bounce on her seat, but quickly she cleared her throat and bring her calm demeanor which fits the tea drinking atmosphere back. "I-I mean, sure, Douman-sensei. It will be a p-pleasure to hear it from you," trying her best to suppress her excitement, Ritsuka was turned groggy instead. How cute, he said in silence. That afternoon, he attend his Master much like a teacher to their pupil. Stories from a distant past, as he recalled story after story, he saw her face filled with so much expressions. Sometimes she'd shine with awe, sometimes she'd knit her eyebrows in sympathy, sometimes she'd laugh heartfully.  That afternoon was exhausting indeed, but it was quite a remarkable memory for him.

As he finished reminiscing his time on Chaldea, his feet stopped in front of his Master's room. He was asked by a Vinci to checked on her, although the light-haired director seemed to despise the idea at first. Of course, Douman is well aware thar Romani Archaman must've been wary of him, an extremely strange servant summoned by Chaldea system. Even so, Da vinci still let him carry the request on and thus, here he is.

Gently, he knocked the door, "Master," he called her, "May I come in?"

Just as he knock it, the door opened by itself. A vulnerably clumsy Master she is, letting her room unlocked like this.

When he enter the room, she was on her work desk, head buried by various books and notes. Her back raise and drop in a steady rhythm as she breathe calmly. The monitor of her computer lit up her unmoving figure. She's asleep in her table just like that in her shirt and short pants. Truly, truly vulnerable... A tiny flicker ignite inside him, flame that asked for her destruction in such state. But of course he had to control himself, it is not the time yet. A reward for fortitude will be fruitful in the end, thus he needs to wait.

To suppress the raging feelings, he walk toward with the only wish to wake her up. His hand reached out to her, but then his eyes trails off from her. Without shrinking his hand away, he blinks silently at the heaps of books, specifically the words that written on top of it. Words that re just.... extremely familiar to him. His sharp nails trailed from one book to another. "The Guide of Harima Kuni", "The story of Abe-no-Seimei", "The Record of Heian Era", and to his surprise, "Ashiya Douman: the Story of Renowned Onmyoji." Of course he can recall them, of course. It was all the books that talks about him and his stories, his past. At the opened books, he can see some scribbles and tapped notes all over. He picked one and inspect it. The notes were mostly filled with questions and reviews. There, he can read something like 'Is he really like that?', or 'So this is what happen!' written with some emojis and doodles. The scribbles on the other hand were meant to highlight some points of the books that seemed to interest her. Moving his eyes from her table, he saw her monitor shows a map that was marked in various places. There he read on top of it was the name 'Kishi, Nishikanki-Cho'. Accompanied the map was some websites that was filled with stories and talks about his hometown, specifically about the history of Onmyoji. He can't help but smile, a genuine smile that he wasn't so acquainted with. 'This Master truly was not joking when she said she wanted to know more about this Douman,' he thoughts as the fire of hatred that reside in him for the moment has gone. In a spur of moment, he felt a little pity for her who had to work hard just to know more about him. The least he can do for her was to spare her some proper sleep by lay the girl on her bed. Gently while making sure she won't woken up, he picked her off her seat. The tiny body on his arm felt way different than the person he saw back in Heian-kyo Lostbelt. The girl that stopped him back then was way sterner and rougher, here the lady on his arm is amicably powerless like a sitting duck.

As he laid her down, she suddenly grabbed her clothes. Douman was about to jump until he hears her slow breathe was still the same as before. Ah, sure, she's probably did it unconsciously. Slowly, he hold the hand that clutched onto him and release it. The owner in question meekly murmur in her sleep when she's completely laid down on her bed, "Granpa... Can you... Tell me Douman-sensei... story again..." she said. He can't help but laughed a bit at how childlike his Master act right now. Tucked her comfortably, he left her to clean up her table. That's when he found something,

Seems like the book was covered by her face when she asleep then, but there was written in a side of her notebook, a tiny note. Douman picks her book and slowly read it. It was unmistakably her handwriting, complete with her little doodles.

"Granpa, I found Douman-sensei! He's so cool just like you told me. I will work hard too so I can be as awesome like him. I promise you!"

There was a little drop of water on the notes, but it didn't bother him much. It was... what a disgusting note it is.

Wanted to be like him? Why? To be like a complete failure of an Onmyoji like him... That is truly a laughable notion. How pitiful for someone ever wanted to be an underdog like him. Someone, who is renown for his villainy over his rival that he was never able to usurp... He reads more notes and books that lays on her table as he clean it up. All those books... Some of them said of how he was a beloved for his own people, some said how he was a pride for his hometown, some said how they are grateful for his achievement.

His heart swells, he turned off the light on his master room. His heart swells. He stroked Ritsuka's fair hair as he made his way out of the room. His heart swells. He closed the door and make sure it was secured.

His heart swells, for all those emotion he feels gobbled him up.

Is all alien to him. All that gratefulness are nothing he ever heard.

It was disgusting,

Disgusting,

But he is unmistakably feels warm.

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

End note: Ngl I feel like Grand Order Guda calling Douman as Douman-sensei sounds awesome and fits nicely. She was pretty new to this stuff so she might be still rather meek with her servants. And then, Douman himself was still a pretty renowned Onmyoji thus giving him some respect sounds just right

[ziggilbert]

[DYLAN O’BRIEN, CISMALE, HE/HIM] WHO’S THAT? OH IT’S [EDWARD “ZIGGY” GILBERT]. I HEAR THEY’RE [21] AND ARE KNOWN AS [THE SHUTTERBUG] AROUND [NEW YORK]. THEY’RE ALSO A [JUNIOR] AT [NYU], HAVE A VOICE LIKE [NEWTON FAULKNER] AND ARE A PART OF [BARTENDER AT CALLBACKS, FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER]. THEY’RE KNOWN TO BE [CREATIVE AND UNDERSTANDING] AND [CYNICAL AND PRETENTIOUS]. SOME PEOPLE SAY THEY REMIND THEM OF [LEATHER, THE CLICK OF A CAMERA’S SHUTTER, LIVE MUSIC & THE WAY ICE CLINKS IN A GLASS]. ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT! [BEE, 21, SHE/THEY, GMT]

BASICS

Full Name: Edward Patrick Gilbert

Nickname: Ziggy. Zig. Zigzag.

Birthday: January 22nd

Age: 21

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Hometown: Paramus, New Jersey.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Grade: College junior

School: NYU

Occupation: Bartender at callbacks, freelance photographer

LIKES/DISLIKES

Likes: Photography, reading, writing, live music & city skylines.

Dislikes: Orange juice, horror movies, idling, phonecalls & putting in his lenses.

TL;DR BIO

Ziggy (or if you want him to hate you, Edward,) was adopted at the ripe old age of 9 by his father Elliott Gilbert. Their bond is the one thing Ziggy believes is eternal, as of yet. He grew up travelling around the country with his dad, helping backstage, taking photos, and developing a love for music. The little time he spends on the stage himself he prefers to take a backseat with a bass guitar, but he adores the atmosphere of all kinds of concerts. More than that, he loves to take pictures - photography is his passion, and while his dad tries to nudge him towards the spotlight, he’s content to capture the magic from elsewhere.

FULL BIO

Elliott had no plans of having a child when he adopted Ziggy. As a single young man still determined to travel as much as possible and perform, it wasn’t in the picture for him. Ziggy was born and ‘raised’ by a distant high-school friend of Elliott’s, one who didn’t picture herself as a mother either. They weren’t in touch when Ziggy was born. They briefly rekindled their friendship at a party, until Elliott learned she’d left her young child at home alone. Slowly but surely he found himself intervening more and more, trying to encourage his friend to take more responsibility as a parent until things came to a head, and he couldn’t go on without getting CPS involved. His intention was to stick around in New Jersey for a few months to step in as a foster parent while legal issues were sorted through, but when the time came, he couldn’t bear to give the kid up. For a long time, Elliott hardly saw him. He hid, tucked away in his room, refusing to say a word to the strange, kind man who always had a crazy outfit and a song to sing. It was safer in his home though, less eerily quiet. It was rarely blaringly loud, but there was always, always music. At home, in the car, everywhere - it became synonymous with that new, unfamiliar feeling of safety. A few months in, Elliott got his first smile out of Ziggy, and a few words too. He owed that to a stack of David Bowie vinyls and his own unending patience with the boy. To this day, Ziggy swears he knows each and every last word of Bowie’s discography, and in his head it often plays in his dad’s voice. Elliott was his world. He sacrificed many crucial hours of performing to catch him up with homeschooling. They spent just about every moment together, up until Ziggy was finally ready for middle school. He was terrified of the concept, but Elliott had the perfect trick up his sleeve for that - his very first concert.

It was just a typical open mic night, and yet it was a whole lot more. Ziggy had never seen anything like it - Elliott liked to joke that his eyes stayed the same size as his favourite records for weeks after that night. Instantly, he was obsessed. Even through his protective earplugs it was a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard, an electric atmosphere that took every last shred of dullness out of his life. By the time the end of that summer rolled around and Ziggy was due to start at school, he had his very own bass guitar and a little experience of performing with it. Middle school wasn’t a particularly kind place, but Ziggy withdrew to the back of the room in most cases. Kids weren’t nice to each other - the best thing to do was to not interact with them. He kept his head down, got his work done, and came alive on weekend nights. This was when his first camera came into the picture. He was getting a little more independent - Elliott could leave him at home with a sitter on the occasional weeknight and not worry about him being terrified the whole time. He could spend more time working on his career, and so he needed promotional material. On a whim, he asked Ziggy to snap a few pictures for him one weekend, and he loved it. It was the perfect excuse to slip into his own little world. All of a sudden he could take that atmosphere he loved so much and capture a moment of it, one he could keep forever. It was the perfect hobby for him. It escalated from there. Random aesthetic shots of things around the house, or in town, nature, people, buildings - anything he could get away with photographing, he would photograph. Plenty of the shots were garbage, but he started reading up. He studied shot composition and exposure, all sorts of aspects of the art. Suddenly, every Christmas and birthday came with a new lens, or a tripod, or even another camera every now and then - he was obsessed. When high school came around, he was lost behind his lens. He had passing acquaintances with, people he could sit with at lunch every now and then if the need arose, but his life was backstage or on his blog, and they weren’t welcome. He didn’t go to homecoming dances or proms, but he made a killing taking everybody else’s pictures for them - at his senior prom, he was hired by the school itself. His portfolio was sizeable, and his grades were solid. Enough for him to land himself a place at his father’s alma mater, NYU.

College was a fresh start. It was weird, watching his father walk out of his dorm once he was all moved in - but he was ready for something new. He branched out a little; he joined study groups and filled in to play bass for a few bands here and there, but his friendships were largely casual. Dating was very much the same way, but he learned a lot about himself through that. He didn’t like talking about himself much, which shut a lot of relationships down before they even start, but he could hook up with just about anybody and have a good time. It was harder to get photography work in the big apple, but he kept the avenue open, and still gets the occasional event to work at. In the meantime he realised a little extra, more steady income would be helpful, and so he picked up work at Callbacks. Bartending was nice; people came in, spilled their woes either over the bar or through the microphone, and he had fun. He learned a lot, without having to open up much himself, and there was always music. What more could he want?

[myfanfictiongarden]

Night, Day, and Everything In-between- POTO fanfic

It is long past midnight and through the thick walls of the building one can make out the distant toiling of bells from Notre Dame. There is no moon tonight to light the streets and so a nearly eery silence lays over the opera house and its tenants. If it weren’t for the torches and gas-lamps to light the many passages and corridors on its nearly countless floors, she knows  the unending paths through the opera house would easily turn into a labyrinth, each corner filled with more shadows then the other- not even counting the secret passages and underground maze. As it is, she makes her way along the changing rooms to her own quarters without so much as a minute of thought. Living for years inside this walls she knows every single corner by heart. Nearly every single corner.

As always before a great premiere there were many things to be discussed and arranged, sometimes those meetings between the opera inhabitants and employees could last deep into the night, and she as the one responsible for the dancers liked to always be good informed. Some would call her strict, but she liked to say she was well organised. That is why she left the two little girls sleeping alone. It were two now, although she had only one daughter. 

She is only a few steps away now from her lodging when a familiar whisper stops her.

“Don’t enter now, you’ll spoil their fun.” It is the voice of the only inhabitant of the Opera Populare that knows more about it secrets than her, and like a ghost he moves along in it, a shadow as blinding as night itself.

“And how, Monsieur, do your know they are not sleeping like well-behaved children?”

“Because while the maman was away, the papa kept an eye on them. And their merry little voices were hard to ignore. Let them have their fun.” She can’t help it but let out a loud sight at this. This little play has started a few weeks ago when she had brought the orphan girl to live with her and Meg, a step she had made out of Christian duty to give the poor child's father peace of mind in his last hours, but her companion in the shadows had immediately jumped on it as a way to start one more of his make-believes. She would be the mother to both, he the unseen guardian to the orphan. A perfect fantasy. But a fantasy nevertheless.

A many would have fainted in fear to hear shadows talking to them like this, but not her. The corridor is far too dark to see, she can only make out the dark silhouette of him standing not far away from her, the whiteness of the plaster mask seemingly floating in midair.

They had already lead this discussion about his new fancy, his new game. What else can a man learn growing up in the shadows of the opera then plays and illusions? And having known him for years it is hard to deny him a wish of such innocent nature. Yet, she can’t help but make one last attempt at his reason.

“It is far too late for little girls to have fun. They should have been asleep by now.”

“The restrains of life will corner them soon enough. For now let them tell each other stories of magic. The new one has laughed for the first time since arriving here.”

It is true that the little orphan Christine, daughter of the late Swedish violinist, had come nearly apathetic to the opera. It is no wonder, with the loss she had suffered, and still, to see a child of 7 to loose interest in life so much was more than heartbreaking. The only thing that had kept her living were the visits to the chapel, the idea to be able to speak to her beloved father once more. The idea which had made Antoinette’s companion in the shadows form his own ideas. 

“Your investment is really touching, mon ami, but-“

“But what? Haven’t I been careful this past weeks? Didn’t I promise to be careful? Didn’t I promise she would never feel forgotten? Didn’t you promise me to allow at least the illusion of me being a wanted human being?” His voice has gotten harsh from emotion while their conversation had minutes ago started nearly playful, and that was one more thing she often missed to avoid- missed to avoid him remembering just how lonely life on earth can be. Living hiding in a theatre could make one eccentric with time, but there are worse fates out there in the streets for those unwanted.

“She had no one when you brought her here, she barely knew some French. Now she started to open up to your Meg. Let me only watch over her. Allow me sometimes to comfort her. Let me at last imagine how a life I can never lead could look like. Please, Antoinette.” He was pleading now. He had never asked her for anything with so much emotion, and Heavens know he could had asked much through all these years.

Nearly as silently as he could move she advanced towards him, her slender ballet figure now inches from his tall person.

“Have it your way. Just promise me you’ll be careful, Erik.”

….

The sun is shining warm and bright through every window and every open hole in the grand opera's many floors, its countless inhabitants busy as bees and the cacophony of voices sounding just like it. Summer is the time when things would quiet down a bit, but even though that time was approaching there were still sold out nights to be performed at, to be dressed and to be staged. Yet, every stage-men, seamstress, dancer and performer, all looked forward to time for a bit more leisure. 

In the dormitory under the roof where the female dancers lived, the place housing more then two dozen ladies of various ages, the heat kept getting harder and harder to bear, and so one afternoon after rehearsals many of them were lazily resting on their iron-wrong beds, some using fans to cool themselves, others giving in to the despair of the heat. The burning sun turning the attic into an oven. What was usually a place of chatter and gossip now was heavy with silence of exhaustion. But to one of them it seemed not to matter.

With her 12 years, Christine belonged still to the youngest girls in the dormitory, but by the age of 10 both her and Meg had grown too big to share a tiny sleeping place in Madam Giry´s privat quarters, so for both the dormitory it meant. Never in her young life had she been so constantly surrounded by so many people like since arriving under the wing of Madam Giry. Although, the phrase “under the wing” would have been in in a way misplaced for there was not more attention given to her then to the other girls, or even Meg. There was no denying that Madam took good care of her and loved Meg, but she had a strict hand and everyone, especially the older girls, could feel it. Nevertheless, Christine- although very young in age- could not but feel grateful towards Madam for giving her a roof to sleep under. She liked dancing very much and Meg was her best friend. Still, at times she couldn’t help but feel lonely. There were rare occasions when she would join in conversations with the other girls, their joys and dreams were so different from hers.

While thinking all this she had descended many stairs and the air was already getting cooler. Her agile feet had carried her down, down many flights of stairs, down along all the way to the chapel. By now the air was not only cooler but also damp, damp from moisture from the walls and stuffy from the many candles burning. Christine didn’t mind.

It is a rather tiny room, but to her it's one of the dearest of places. In this country people look a bit different to religion, different then in the far north from where she came from, and she had got used to it after the many visits to church on Sundays, yet here in this stuffy forgotten chapel her heart feels at home. She doesn’t have another one anymore.

Resting her head on the cool surface of the stained glass window she remembers how, upon arriving in the opera house, she had caught bits of hushed conversations, conversations she couldn’t understand and only with time grabbed their meaning. They had talked of how she seemed to suffer from melancholy, rather unusual for such a young child. It is odd how she couldn’t understand them talking when she came here although she used to know the language quite well after living in this country till then for nearly two years. Yet, when her papa was gone the language seemed to be too, and it had only come back slowly. She remembers how they came to France, just the two of them, always the two of them. They were on a concert tour and then he had been offered a teaching position at a rich family's house. The younger of two sons was to learn the violin so she and her papa made many visits to that grand house. She liked to watch her papa play the violin, liked to hear it. She liked the boy he was teaching, they were best friends. Fondly she remembers him, and wonders if he remembers her too.

Her eyes begin to itch and tiny tears stream down her face.

Dry your eyes, my child.

With the back of her hand she dries them away while something between a sob and a lough escapes her lips. 

It's him. The Angel. 

Her young heart feels sadness lifted from her very being. She isn’t alone. It takes only two steps before she is by the candles, kneeling down, lighting a new one, clapping her hands, and feeling perfectly at peace.

…

It is a clear sky, the colours slowly changing from light to oranges and purple, advancing towards the deepest shade of night blue. Stars will soon be alight. There is not a single cloud merging the view, windows glitter in the setting light, shadows slowly spread along the many streets as people linger around them, each in their own pursuit. Night is close by.

He is standing on the roof-top of the grand Opera Populare, on a terase between the changing stores, well hidden behind one of the decorating statues, nothing more than another shadow. No one can see him here. It has been for long one of his favourite spots when he wished to partake in the everyday life of the Parisians around the opera house. Not that their woes and sorrows could touch him who had experienced their most cruel side- but at times he had a wish to at least imagine what a life among them could look like.

This, however wasn’t the only reason of why he stood here today in the early autumn breeze. His eyes suddenly caught sight of a group of young girls advancing slowly towards the opera house. Young ballet students of various ages returning from a day-long excursion to the countryside outside the cities edges, one of the rare occasions of change in their rather strictly organised daily routine. Their familiar white dresses and blue capes, their youthful light step and their ribbons in hair, joyfully returning from a day of fun. It is only the students that went out with their instructor, the grown up ladies were free to move around as they pleased. 

As they come closer and closer he dares to peak out of his hiding a bit more, the shadows now too deep to make anyone suspect someone on the roof. The girls are now close enough to make them out clearly and there is one he wished to see. The curly head of 11 year old Christine was among them, right at her best friends side like usual. Her curls have partly come loose from her ribbon, her laughter ringing brighter then anyones else’s. A few moments more and the little group is already inside the building, just as the street lamps are lit. He steps back again and is gone in the darkness of the shadows.

It had been an idea he had long thought of when the little orphan had been brought to the opera house. Now, being poor or an orphan or both was nothing special inside the walls of the opera house, few of its inhabitants were anything else. What had first catched his attention was the fact that this particular orphan was the child, the only child of a most talented and too early deceased young Swedish violinist. Her father had been a true artist and genius, and never lived to see his upcoming fame. The other thing though that made him feel drawn to her was the loneliness she had shown and one he could feel with. The melancholy with which she had first come, the countless hours she had spend in the tiny chapel, the desperat attempts to at least in some way reach her beloved papa through prayer. And rather than leave her trapped in silence he spoke to her. First he had feared he might scare the rather tender little being, yet she had been only a bit startled at first and calm ever since. Her child soft voice had spoken of an Angel to come her father had promised her, spoken with such earnest believe that it had left him in awe of her little heart. It had kept him thinking until he made up his mind. 

What harm can there be to comfort such a lonely heart? What crime in making someone feel not forgotten? What easier play for him, who knows every single corner in this building, then to remind a child that she is not alone but watched over and cared for! The many a hour he had thought of ways to deliver an Christmas present to make the days less dull, the joy on her face upon finding in the chapel a little whistle shaped as a bird with her name on he had carved out himself, the pink ribbon and hair-clip and note sheet that followed in years. She had a talent for music and he found joy in whispering her instructions and following her impressive progress.

Years went by like this, spring followed winter, autumn followed summer, and round again it went, the days seemingly flowing over into each other. Time looses meaning in the closed off world of the opera's walls. For him, it could have gone on like this forever.

One night, it is late evening, he walks along one of the many secret passages, when a person in the chapel makes him stop. He is standing in a passage between the chapel and outside walls close to the grated window that had so long ago given him entrance and shelter. It is dark but for the few candles illuminating the scene, and for a moment it looks far too sacred for any human eye to see. It is a young female figure that kneels there, the ankle long skirt having replaced the short one of girlish days, a plain black ribbon on top of the long curly hair, hands clasped in pious prayer, the cheeks flushed in the light blush of young womanhood to come. 

It was Christine.

That night he hadn’t spoken to her, he had actually forgotten that he was about to take a walk in the deserted streets and rather reminded stuck on his spot for many hours after she had left, wondering what had came over him. He didn’t attempt to see her for many days after. When, a few weeks later, he watched the rehearsals from a hidden place far above the scene like he often did, and saw her among this low-lifes of actors and dancers and stage-hands, it stuck out to him how she seemed to be too noble to be among them. The female dancers with their pedestrian manners disguised him, the dandy actors with their huge egos made his blood boil. She, on the other hand, shone more the brighter.

This thoughts troubled him. His heart ached with a yearning he had never felt before, a song had entered his mind he very much wished to ignore. Hadn’t he been close to happy until now? Collecting a fine salary from the superstitious manager, turning a cave into a lavish lair, roaming the secret passages and opera by day, at times the streets by night, and always composing at his hearts desire? Wasn’t he glad to be able to comfort a lonely child, contempt to play the invisible surrogate father when life had had closed that door forever for him? Wasn’t he her friend, her angel, her guide, guardian, teacher? 

More than once did he repeat this words in his head, yet no matter how often he did they could nothing to stop the other ones that somehow always found a way to sneak right into it. For days he would avoid the stage, roam the streets at night unaffected by harsh weather, ride off to the countryside where no human had ever sat foot or hide in the darkness of his lair. When it didn’t improve his condition he would do it all over again. He felt restless and wild. The mirrors in his abode seemed to mock him even more than before, and wishing to find peace he often sat down to write and compose, but nothing would help. There was only one melody to him now. He knew he had found music in the most sublime and pure form. Her face would appear in ink among his compositions, and haunt him in his dreams. Her voice would ring in every single corner, and ring in his ears.

It was music like he had never heard before- and he wouldn’t let it go.

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

AN: Trying to fill out some missing years we didn't get to se in the story that led to the events of the movie. Also, I was very much inspired by this story.

[leatherbookmarking]

hello! as you might have noticed i changed my icon. it’s a-yao now

celebratory headcanons/concepts™ from twitter (mostly xiyao/sanzun):

1. after the first occasion jgy gets to kiss him as much as he likes, poor lxc has to wear a face mask because he looks... concerning.

someone’s like oh, did you catch a cold? lxc (thinking about his boyfriend passionately committing to his "someone tried to eat my face" look): haha yes, one iced coffee too many ^__^

2.  a concept: jgy, a person who absolutely intertwines his legs with lxc's when they're about to sleep, to the point that lxc isn't entirely sure which legs are his, only to disentangle himself away 15 minutes later because Hot

a-yao is Small and thus automatically a pre-sleep wiggler. one leg under the cover, the other on top of it. no, gotta change them. the cover is too hot, hot move. turn over. spread legs. bend leg. dangle one feet over the edge of the bed. hmm, walls are cold. leg on wall

lxc, hoarsely: a-yao. love of my life. my sun and stars. my little goldcrest. I am going to tie you to the bedpost in a non-recreational way

jgy, who has melted away after "love of my life": (gently wraps the vines of his person around the post of lan xichen's sexy torso)

3. sometimes (always) i think about modern jiggy being a dancer and sometimes (always) i imagine him moving something like mr taemin out there. like this kind of... fluid grace. he traces an arc in the air with his hand and it's like drawn with a protractor. every minuscule movement is planned. add his controlled expressions to this and you've got a What The Fuck How Is He Real

4.  in a scenario where xiyao elope (no i will not shut up. ever), what do people think about the situation? gotta be "jgy, the EVIL FUCK, has kidnapped our beacon of light and goodness, zewu-jun!"

"but two men similar to them have been spotted in some places, and they appear friendly with each other... so..."

"witchcraft! jin guangyao has controlled zewu-jun's mind! who knows if he didn't turn him into a fierce corpse!"

the first person to find them fucking under a tree sure is in for a, let's say, surprise

5. thought of the day: meng yao deserved a big ass head piece. and silver in his hair. those little chains like jin ling had, that clink quietly when he moves his head. meng yao deserved to be as decked out as possible in gusu lan sect! and for people to look at him and see just how precious he is to sect leader lan!

lan-fujun... when he walks into the room, it's like a silver-white river nymph came to live among humans 

(on the other hand: meng yao thinking about his mother. and about himself, as a child, dreaming of being accepted by his father, a powerful cultivator. they'd be free, and meng yao would become a great cultivator too, and give his mother the prettiest rooms, the best clothes, the most delicious food, anything she wants. she would never need anything, because she'd have everything. that's how it would be, and he, meng yao, will make sure of it!)

6. MODERN AU BUT BAXIA IS A POMERANIAN.

i was thinking black/tan because nie colors, BUT if she was white, it would add to the wonderful contrast... or sable. you know, because sabre... sable... not funny? sorry. look at the cute dog though

i'm not saying nmj is from the 'hey i am a big burly man with a tiny dog' school of hitting on people. BUT it is a fact that when he's having someone over for a fuck, he likes to see confusion and terror flash in their eyes as he tells them he wants to introduce them to the most important woman in his life just. i just think that would be neat (he likes to observe people before he invites them over. just to figure out if they would be that kind of person who has to be reminded why they're here. not that he's against baxia getting love! just,)

something something maybe he got her to learn to be more gentle because his early life left him a blunt and unapproachable. OR MAYBE it was a gift from huaisang? so he can have someone to take care of when he moves out? (nmj: oh, so you ARE moving out? nice! when? nhs:          )

anyway they often converse. as in, nmj always kindly asks her not to nibble on things and in most cases, she obliges. but sometimes someone forgets to take their socks out of their shoes and they smell SO DELICIOUSLY, a lady has to have her pleasures, alright? "buy her chewing toys" oh? so she graces them with one scathing look and ignores them forever? this woman's most precious item is mingjue's old sock, with holes on both the toe and heel area. he's tied it in a knot. she usually carries it to her preferred places of Chewing but always remembers to bring it back to her bed for the night. one night jgy gets up to get a glass of water and sees nmj, with baxia on the countertop, two socks in front of her. "THIS one is good", nmj says patiently, pointing, "and THIS one is a no" she bites down on the latter

nie "i get nothing but disrespect from small dogs and people under 180cm" mingjue

if baxia doesn't like someone, he automatically Doesn't Trust Them. baxia has a very love/hate relationship with jgy. initially she was very waggy about him. then at some point she grew cold

is it a new cologne she doesn't like? he tries bringing her snacks. she nibbles at them for a minute then abandons them w/ no care. she walks away from him when he's using a cute voice and feigns deafness when he's speaking normally. there can only be ONE tiny thing in this house

(sometimes nmj Squints at jgy but jgy is Trying, and it's rather entertaining to see him on the floor, dog hair on his pants, ruthlessly ignored by 2kg of Fuck You. so)

(xichen, of course, has her unending adoration, although, of course, she loves mingjue the best)

...how does she treat huaisang? i'm thinking With Enthusiasm. he looks friendly! he makes fun noises when you surprise bark at him! truly a man worth playing with. she expresses that opinion by lovingly biting his toes. sometimes he accidentally walks into her. woe! woe!! Father, help!!! Violence! Hate!!

@xiyao-feels: I just have this image of like. Her being out with NHS and seeing another dark and starting to bark furiously and try to attack because she must! Defend! NHS!

(making her stop is a work in progress, nhs is very protectable) i had a dog that, due to Circumstances, wasn't socialized properly, so she'd bark at every dog she met. she was small but she DID scare some friendly big dogs away. "why is this tiny thing shouting :("

....sometimes when she yaps at jgy, jgy... yaps back, mockingly. and then it BEGINS (at some point nhs records it and posts on yt as "pomeranians having a shouting match")  oh, no, it's fine! jgy understands. it was quite funny indeed. and the fact that for a month after that she gets into nhs' room to wake him up, or that his favourite t-shirts somehow are covered with dog hair? it's the draught, and the power of baxia's love :-)

xiyao-feels: He convinces NMJ that NHS really needs to learn more about how to handle a dog, and enrolls him in some training

"it's important that all household members get along :-)" he also blissfully records her doing her best to steal nhs' sock from his foot

nmj: see, that means she likes you!

nhs, sadly: no, da-ge. that means my toe hurts, and that i am one sock poorer

xiyao-feels:  JGY starts deliberately vanishing NHS' socks when doing laundry, blames Baxia They're probably really fancy. I don't know what really fancy socks even look like but I bet NHS does

probably very smooth and pleasant to wear. nhs likes to live fancy, after all. well, baxia likes that too now!! whatcha gonna do!! at some point someone (xichen) notices the whole house is just four grown up men giving regular sacrifice to a tiny bitchy dog. incredible

at some point they introduce her to jc's gals. it looks like this

[joeyrumlow]

THRENODY

Summary: Your husband, the Lord of Imladris, comforts you when you lose a loved one and walks you out of the limbo you are in.

Words: 900

Lord Elrond x Reader

(Gif is not mine; and, please ignore the text)

The air was warm and sweet as the hands of Autumn had been busy in colouring the entire valley with drops of mellowed honey. You sat in your chambers lined with lilac and ivory, painted anew by the golden treacle of the setting sun. The argent cascades adorning the adjoining valley seemed to beckon you to observe the fire lighting them with hues of gold but you moved away from the casement and seated yourself before the harp, slowly removing the linen screening it. Drawing a deep breath and closing your eyes, you let the tempest raging within your mind find an expression through your fingers.

The halls of Imladris shook and heaved as the melodies strung with living agony trilled and thrilled. Unsuspecting Elves either free or engaged in their respective tasks stilled and sighed as the dirge of the dusk flitted and caught them unawares. Those admiring the pearlescent palette of the evening sky now looked at it with mournful eyes, those engaged in performing duties neglected them and stood with pensive expressions while those tending the beautiful blossoms in the garden looked at their delicate petals with glassy eyes and aching hearts.

Silver drops fell one by one

And doused the weary boughs,

They fell on her brow, one by one

And kissed her resting temple.

She will see the skies no more,

Nor her tresses feel the wind,

She lies beneath the mound of yore,

Cold and dark and dim.

Her kind eyes will never greet

The faces she loved best,

Never more will she meet

My grateful smiles among the rest.

Woe befalls my wretched soul,

Churns my heart and reels my bones,

To know you shall forever walk

The Immortal Halls away from us.

Down came the stroke that wrung and broke, down came your fingers that danced and swayed over the supple instrument. The playful waters no longer suffered their gilded smiles and the ripened verdure abandoned their jubilant joy. Sadness suddenly stood tall and mighty, gathering every listener into his aged arms. Up moved your hand on its own accord, the gusts whirling within you creating another orchestra of immense anguish, lacerating your heart with their furious strokes. But the raging orchestra came to a sudden halt and your hand stayed in the air for a firmer hand, both gentle and wise, had held yours.

Lord Elrond's concerned eyes sought yours and he grieved to see your waxen countenance, your lustreless eyes finally meeting his, devoid of all the familiar shimmer that was so dear to him.

He gently took both your hands with his left and cradled your cheek with the other. "Come come my dear Y/N," he tenderly spoke, eyes glistening with emotion. "You must learn to flow with the tides of grief my dearest. Stop struggling. You will only suffocate if you fight it. Let it carry you and only then will you breathe again." He softly ran his thumb over your cheek and smiled an encouraging and yet an incredibly sad smile.

You fixed your eyes on him as if you did not understand what he was saying. But then, your lips quivered. The embankments overflowed and grief poured forth with an unmitigated strength, destroying the stupor of many hours and the locked doors of the limbo. Lord Elrond soothed you, not with words but by his mere presence, providing the warmth and comfort much needed in silent assurances.

As the violent fit of weeping began to subside and you began to draw measured breaths, Lord Elrond softly spoke, "You don't have to bear your burdens alone dear one. You know well that I am always here for you."

You sniffed and quietly spoke for the first time in two days, "I-I cannot believe that she's gone. She was so good and so kind and so beautiful. She inspired courage and brought so much hope and I-I feel so lost without her-" You stopped for you could speak no more.

He held you in his embrace in silence, stroking your hair and lulling you with his heartbeat. At length he spoke in comforting notes, "I know death seems very cruel to us, especially because we linger forever and cannot forget those who have departed, the grief seemingly unending and raw. But Y/N, you must know that sometimes things must be so. And indeed, you know she is more happy in death, free from all the cares and sufferings she endured for so long. She can finally rest and the only thing we can do is not to make that difficult for her by desiring something that cannot pass."

You pondered at his words that became engraved in your memory and you recalled it many a times later in life but even at the moment, you knew he was right as the truth in them rang out loud and clear. Darkness had already descended and among the thinning veils of twilight, Earendil the Mariner could be discerned, burning brighter than the departing vessel of Anar and you knew that she was happy. You prayed to Eru that she would be as lively and happy as ever while she dwelt in the Halls of Mandos. You clasped your husband, letting him know how much you appreciated his presence and he kissed your brow and enfolded you more closely, finally perceiving the advent of the calm after the storm.

[way-to-the-future]

Sound and Space

(implied sexual content deep under the cut)

The flat is never so quiet as when we are both home at night. The darkness settles in around us and we two can rest our aches against the bed and one another; we can listen to nothing but the soft draw of cloth and one another’s breath, the ginger pulse of blood in our ears and the way these sounds stretch to fill at least in part the void that surrounds us. Quiet is not the same as vacancy, for I think he knows as I do that nothing has a sound, a too-loud press of meaningless, droning awareness. I speak of him in my mind as dulcet symphony, as monolith, as roof-over-my-head, as cloak and rising wave and stoic peak because all of these things can cover me when the emptiness of exhaustion abounds – and because it is far easier to accept that he shrouds everything in his embrace than it is to address any distance between us.

               Since we made our first contract, this has implicitly been our relation: I am in the space of him. He directs, and I execute; he marks the signpost, and I lead us there, often stumbling, always grasping. I help him to become more what I know he is so that he might lift me up with him. It is hard to say, precisely for the reason that it might say more than what it is, how much he colors my thinking. How easy it is to fall into the delusion that I need nothing but his hand on my hair and his lips pressed against mine to quiet me, when the real dreads last so much longer than those momentary evocations of our passion. I do not like the implication that I have suffered in my service because of this, as I do not wish to be nor do I claim that I am such a martyr – but he alone knows what I would do for him, if he asked. If he didn’t.

               I confess that a part of me, that frightened, hungry part, does wish to be more than what I am to him already, even if I know it is a foolish ambition. I struggle with the fact (as I struggle with the silence in our bed when there is so much I would say to him yet) that I cannot be his every comfort, that I cannot rise to meet his every need as we pretend that he rises to meet mine. I wish that the fiction could be different, and what a hollow thing that is that I must set my teeth to the pillow and close my eyes or else laugh out loud and shatter the dream.

               Here is the truth (and I realize when I speak it mutely to the vacant expanse of him, of our mutual comfort, that it is not an ugly one): neither one of us completes the other. For as much as we are woven from the same copper wire and gilded plate, we do not turn in on ourselves, perfect in our symbiosis. He is always there, my fifth limb, my favored eye through which to see the world, but I grasp with hands that are entirely my own as he thinks and feels and speaks independently of me. He sinks his hand into the molten heart of me and pulls out here a sword, there a charming bauble, there a shield and a cup and a mirror as he requires them, but never has he been able to craft his whole world from me. There is simply not enough. I adore him as my maker, my forge-god, ordinator mundi, but it is plain that his reach extends only as far as we two.

               None of this hurts me, and I pray that it would not be painful for him to hear. It does not change what he is to me, my summit, the location at which and the man with whom I can strive to be my best self, to be our best selves – but it does leave barren and uncovered that stretch between us. It’s a little less than two moons we have been in this life, this shared-but-separate existence, and in that brief time it has been far more difficult to explain his words, his pauses, than it has his true silences. I know, how could I not know, that there are things he cannot tell me, wounds I would exacerbate if I were to try to cure them. I am sure that he knows, too, the silent fear it engenders in me, that he can see my knuckles whiten and my teeth grit whenever I feel him withdrawing from me. I pray that he does not think less of me for it; I pray that it does not add to his woes.

               What is left to us, then? We two small things. We live our life in routines, days apart or fleetingly together in the desert and the mountains, into nights feverishly at one, playing at games which are by now practiced. I plan and tinker and fight under the sun, knowing that the bells I desperately await will come. Under the moon, I struggle and flush and sigh for him, my Lucas, when I can sink into the confidence of carnival and know that the lunacy of each momentary desire will be answered. We indulge when and as we wish to in our distractions, by admiring one another in the frame of lovely, nameless bodies. We see each other adored as we should be – and then we begin the cycle anew.

               I don’t know how long it could continue like this. Silent, then loud, then silent again as we dance in circuit through our lives. I require direction, progress, and this kind of seeming inaction has always been painful for me – but now, broken down by delights Lucas and I select for one another, I must ask myself, what more could there be? We are living, after all. I feel his arm looped around my waist, even if he cannot surround me completely. I know that I have made him happy, however briefly, and I will do so again.

               Perhaps Lucas is right. I ask too many questions that don’t need to be answered. I do not know what I want more than this – what I would do more gladly, and with such natural ease. I feel him cling to me a little tighter, his strong heart beating against my back. It is not a thunderous sound, and no drum that will call me to action; I feel in its fluttering rhythm nothing but the need to be quietly here, two mortal men in the unending act, the untraceable process of -

               That is a little much, even for me. It makes me smile, though, as we fall asleep.

[lawrising-a]

📝 i'm late to the party but one for nikki pls,,,,,,,,,

( @madetrouble )

. november 23 .

‘ do you wish to know a well kept secret only known by a hotel writing pad? why there's tiny clips of papers massacred around the room? the answer is simple ; it's the fact that i've been writing about my survival partner. whenever bright pink makes my vision swim and my fingers twitch with the urge to let it out. frustrations, bold opinions ... regrets. the reason there are holes in fragile papers is because my grip on the pen cannot loosen. i get too violent with my motions. jerky, overtly emotional. now i find myself rambling on the back of a magazine, hoping to calm my bundling nerves before i try this again. this is the last available thing to write on in my nighted hotel room ---- unless i resort to the skin of my arms, of course. it's too desperate, though the former troublemaker always tended to bring out a stranger in me. ’

‘ when i briefly brought up my woes to jael days prior, she recommended organizing my thoughts by using my hands. a silly thing that felt more like a jest than someone looking out for my strained connection ; though i resorted to it nonetheless. my brain scatters about, fleeting feelings disappearing the moment i try to take my pen to them. would this bode better if i pretended this was a letter to send her? logistically, that adds up better than the initial plan which was writing aimlessly. so i wish to try and adapt this new direction moving forward ... ’

‘ ... ’

‘ i never said i don't like you : are words that were once spoken to you, nikita, before. with a terseness to my tone, forever testy whenever i acknowledged your presence. and i did do mean it. that statement stands strongly today like our bodies do. unwavering despite everything thrown at us, even with the unending outside forces snipping our bond to loose ends. never have i disliked you. at least not in a way that i believe would be genuine distaste. sometimes you push all the right buttons to light something dangerous in me ; molding me into something i am not. you make me angry, spiteful, teeth aching for revenge. there was a time where i believed that was all your doing, actually. twisting my perception into wicked tainted nothings to fuel a point left unseen by our corpse filled audience ... never say i don't learn, however. it's come to my attention that i have always been that person. easy to rile up. eager to sniff out mistakes so i look holier in comparison. is it so wrong to need to be needed more than your peers? to be the better option, so you're the first choice? considering how our relationship's turned out, i'll take that as a yes. ’

‘ admitting things to your face is hard, you know? sharp dolled up eyes pierce right through me. you look me over with unkindness, like you're waiting for a shred of weakness to expose. you scare me, nikita. you'd hurt me if it meant your survival ; some of your words and choices have scarred me for life thunder makes me think of manny, of the rounds you put in his chest. i watched that. never took my eyes off him for a second unlike you and joey but what makes the shivers race down my spine is knowing there's some of me trapped in you. there's no comfort with knowing i would've done the same things you had. i wish there was, but looking at you is like looking in the funhouse mirrors. you're so easy to demonize. to write off as the worst parts of me. naively pretending that is all you are. it's why i think things so achingly tender that is only reserved for this, between me and something to write on. if you knew, you'd be a shark : eager to work more blood out of me when you see it pool around my limp body. i can't let that happen. ever. ’

‘ despite my ill toned words and critiques, i do want to say. to say nikita, i don't blame you. not for roi's death, not for colleen's, and not for safiya's. i don't harbor any blame even as you ripped the people who loved me away. sometimes i think i can. i think about manny and safiya especially, eager to use them against you once your hackles raise ... but it veils the tiredness within. there is no blame here. we've both done awful things to survive. what makes me hesitate with you is the fact none of the awful feelings have faded yet. there's been times where all i wanted to do was imprint upon you, nestle deep into your sturdy side ; slipping my hand around your neck and cupping you tenderly there. i held you like that before, remember? although the sting of our bond makes me think otherwise, as well as all the things we've snarled to each other in the past. is that kind of affection for people with tethers like us? i doubt it. but please know i wish differently ... and that, through it all, there is a part of me that respects you. admires your beauty and courage, naturally drawn to taking shelter in it at the worst of times. you're the flood and the lighthouse. god, i get so painfully poetic at times that never matter. ’

‘ space runs thin on this magazine, thus bringing the curtain to a close. there is so much more i tell you in my dreams. more words weighing my tongue down like iron. they all forever pale when worded so needlessly complex, perhaps even totally lost on you. which brings me to my dry words. no poetry weaves in-between these next lines. they must be heard and understood ---- no more implying things. ’

‘ i love care about you. you scare me with your strengths. inspire something crueler in me something that helped me survive and i think of you often. to be blunt, i think about if you're okay. wonder what manny saw in you. think what ifs that you'd probably feel weird about. do you think about everlock as much as me? will you accompany me to literal hell and back for lost, beloved souls? did you want me to back? ’

‘ yet, i think, the million dollar question is ... ’

‘ do you write about me too? ’

[snippydippy]

Whoops cringe culture is dead and I wrote a Hazbin fan-fic excerpt.

I mean, technically I wrote it back in November, but whatever. Am I embarrassing myself? Probably. Do I care? Marginally. Will I get over it if I just drink? Absolutely. Like what you like, cringe culture is dumb.

Description of hotel layout might be inaccurate, I hadn’t actually looked at the correct layouts for the place until after (thanks VRchat). Oh well. Also a little long for an excerpt but oh well!

———-

Leanne had died recently. Just about a year ago on the day if her tracking of time could be trusted. It was nearly impossible to tell how many hours, days, or weeks had gone by down in Hell. There was no day or night. Just the perpetual, sinister red glow of the pentagram symbol carved into the rock sky that encased every sinner inside this final destination.

Her tracking of time was rough, but she did suspect a year. A year of unending misery, anger, and confusion.

Leanne didn’t understand why she was dammed here. She died young, barely 21, due to circumstances she herself wasn’t ready to face quite yet. Thinking about it made things worse. Her death was an accident, and that’s all she felt comfortable telling others and herself.

She had truly believed herself a good person in life. Sure, she swore like a sailor, and perhaps told a few small lies in her years, but who hadn’t? She had never done anything with the intention of hurting anyone. Never done anything heinous enough to deserve...This. Sharing an afterlife with ruthless thieves, pedophiles, and murderers.

She often tried to cope by telling herself that the criteria for heaven was just impossibly strict. No one got in up there. One must have had to be a perfect cherub who never left their home from birth to make it on that list. Surely. Obviously. There was no other explanation.

Leanne heard about the Happy Hotel on the news like everyone else. She had been sitting at a bar with a mysterious substance in her glass for two hours, not taking a single sip. She would never choose to drink whatever liquid it was they poured into these mugs. She simply didn’t have anywhere else to go that felt any safer. A bar was neutral ground for demons and sinners. No turf wars happened here. You couldn’t die in hell, but you sure could feel everything, so she had been careful to avoid fights.

The idea of the hotel seemed ridiculous, an idea reaffirmed by the laughter that filled the building after the Princess of Hell, Charlie, had given her foolishly passionate speech. A place sinners could go to better themselves? A second chance at redemption? Yeah, right. No one got second chances down here. Your one and only chance was the life you lived. How ridiculous. How absolutely insane. Impossible! Leanne thought all of these things as she hurriedly paid for her drink with the pocket change she had, gathered her tattered coat, and headed for the door.

It could never work. You didn’t leave hell once you got here. There was no way. But...maybe. Just maybe. Leanne didn’t belong here anyway, right? So going through this “program” at the Happy Hotel could actually (but probably not) make things right. She could explain to her majesty that there had simply been a mistake anyway, so staying at the hotel would just be a formality until it was all resolved. That’s exactly what would happen once she arrived. It would have to.

———

Leanne’s doubt only grew the closer she got to the hotel itself. On her way, she had passed by a group of Demons huddled by a radio, listening as closely as they could to the static ridden channel. It seemed the Princess had more to deal with than folks around here laughing at her ideals. She had gotten into a fight with Katie Killjoy, the news anchor on the station. It had started with what sounded like more laughter at her idea, then yelling, then what could only be the sounds of a smack-down.

Leanne drew in a deep breath, let it out with a grimace, and kept walking. It would probably take her a while still to reach the building. Two days, maybe more, but it’s not like she had anywhere else to be.

———————-

When she arrived at the towering building, she was both surprised at its sheer size and confused with the sign alight on top. The bright bulbs held up by wooden frames read “Hazbin Hotel”. Leanne could’ve sworn Princess Charlie had said it was called the Happy Hotel.

She glanced in all directions to see if she had missed anything. Though, based on the fact that this was the only building standing for miles of this size, and the only hotel she knew of that existed in Hell in general, she had to assume she had the right place.

Once she walked up to the front doors, Leanne’s hesitations nearly took over her. Behind those doors, decorated with stained-glass images of apples, was either the solution to all her woes, or the confirmation that she had, in fact, been sent to the right place. And that there was nothing anyone could do about it. Proof that she belonged in Hell.

She touched the golden handle with a hand that had once been human. She closed her eyes, hating being reminded of what her body was now. Her once delicate hands with smooth, human skin had turned into a dark blue, scaled and clawed nightmare. Spreading across her temples now were the same colored scales, and right above her ears now sat a pair of wicked, black spiraled horns. Her nose that she had hated so much in life now looked more akin to a bear’s. Her skin that had once been a healthy tan, now a dull grey, lifeless in hue. A long and thick lizard like tail nervously swished behind her. Even though Leanne was a beast, she supposed she had been more fortunate than others. Most of the dead down here you’d hardly recognize as anything that had ever been human. At least Leanne got to keep her basic human shape.

Enough thinking. Leanne pushed open the door and was met by the smell of an old floral perfume and the sound of a charming tune playing on a piano somewhere deep within. She had stepped inside and waited to hear the door click behind her before opening her eyes once more.

Once she did, Leanne was amazed, frozen in shock for a moment. The place was impossibly clean, practically immaculate. Not a single spec of dust, cobweb, or splatter of blood in sight. The long hallway in front of her seemed to stretch on for half a mile, painted comforting shades of deep red with gold trimming. It was far too nice to be a place in Hell. Leanne even noticed how the temperature was the most comfortable she had felt since she died. Warm enough that she could take her coat off, but cool enough that she wouldn’t sweat with it on.

Dozens of portraits of Princess Charlie, her family, and their associates covered the halls. Leanne stepped over to a painting of who she assumed was Charlie’s father. The name etched into the wood frame at the bottom read “Lucifer~1789”. He looked friendly enough for the ruler of hell. Very pale skin, deceptively rosey cheeks complimenting a charming smile, well coiffed blonde hair, and deep black eyes. He looked so much like the images Leanne had seen of Charlie.

She moved on from the picture, searching for any kind of check-in desk, not quite brave enough to call out for assistance. The first opening to her left thankfully read “Concierge” above the open door frame.

Inside the room were a few old, but comfortable looking chairs that sat empty strewn about, a fire place to the left radiating a calming glow, and at the far end of the room was the concierge desk. Three deer skulls hung on the wall above the desk’s canopy, and below them three signs that struck Leanne as very odd. The middle read “Welcome!” while the two on either side read “Gambling!” and “Booze!”. Wasn’t this place supposed to be about avoiding sin? Maybe they were just a gag.

Leanne couldn’t see anyone at the desk. She saw a silver call bell and instinctively went to ring it, her hand stopping to hover over it. She suddenly thought about bailing right then. There was no guarantee that this place could help her. No knowing for sure if the Princess was even really looking to help anyone. She could just be looking for souls to collect. This whole thing could be a trap-

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the bell she had tapped without realizing. She heard an annoyed groan from underneath the counter.

“Fuck, what? I already wiped down the god damn counter.” A demon with a husky voice pulled himself to a standing position to face Leanne. He looked like some sort of cat and owl hybrid. Mostly grey fur with a white face and chest. He had large eyes with dark red scleras and yellow irises, long red eyebrows that extended off his face on either side, an amusing heart shaped nose, and lovely red wings protruding from his back that had what appeared to be card suit markings along some of the feathers. Between his two tall and slender feline ears sat a top-hat of equal height, and a black bow tie rested in the fluff of his chest. He looked at Leanne for a moment in confusion. She couldn’t find the nerve to say anything. He croaked out, “Well, you’re not my boss. You here to check in?”

Leanne felt her tail nervously wrap around her waist as she fiddled with her hands at her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead only quietly cleared her throat and nodded.

The cat-owl demon raised an eyebrow at her before producing a clipboard and pen from the drawer in front of him, “I’m gonna need your name first, lady.”

“Uh..I-It’s, um..Lee. Leanne.” As the man started writing her name down on the paper, Leanne’s head suddenly exploded with questions.

Wait! How does this all work? Was she going to need to tell him how she died? Confess her sins? Would there be some kind of test to see if she could stay? She remembered she had no money. How was she going to pay for this? Had she thought anything through at all!?

Just as Leanne sucked in a panicked breath to tell the other demon to wait, both of them jerked their head towards the sound of a squeal in the doorway. A young girl stood there wearing a white button up shirt with black suspenders, and a smile Leanne thought didn’t belong down here. She was very pale, with beautiful rosey cheeks complimenting a radiant smile, long and well kept blonde hair, and deep black eyes.

Princess Charlie rushed over to Leanne in the blink of an eye. She practically bounced as she spoke, taking Leanne’s hands in her own, “Are you checking in?? Please say yes!”

“Y-yes! Uh, I mean..I-I think so? I would like to?” Leanne bit the inside of her cheek. She’d ramble on forever if she didn’t get a grip, “I-Um. I just have a few questions.”

“Of course! Whatever you need we are here to help with!” Charlie let go of Leanne’s hands and snatched the clip board and pen from the other demon. He grumbled, but didn’t seem too bothered to have his job done by someone else. “What was your name?”

Charlie’s infectious positivity made it impossible for Leanne not to give the faintest of grins, “It’s Leanne, your..majesty? Highness? Princess?” Leanne had no idea how to address royalty of such a place as Hell. It didn’t help that Charlie seemed so different than what she reasonably should be.

The demon princess laughed without a hint of malice, “Just Charlie is fine, Leanne.”

Charlie was madly writing unknown information down on the clip board, and Leanne couldn’t help but notice the other demon eyeing her suspiciously. She tried not to make eye contact, just wishing for Charlie to talk again.

“Okay! Since you are one of our first patrons,” her voice shifted into a sing-song tone, the friendliness a sound Leanne didn’t know she had been craving until this moment, “I put you in one of our sweets!~ Room 331.”

“U-Uh, sorry, but I don’t have any money.” Leanne pulled her hands back to her chest, her tail tightening ever so slightly. She laughed joylessly, “I didn’t really come prepared for this, I guess.”

Charlie tucked the clipboard underneath one arm and took Leanne’s arm in the other, “Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have to pay for this! Husk, hand me her keys please?”

The husky voiced demon who now had a name went to the wall of keys behind him to find 331, tossing them to Charlie when he did.

Leanne was about to speak when Charlie tugged her along to the doorway and out into the hallway. The princess was pulling her toward the sound of the piano, “You’re going to LOVE it here! I’m so happy that my little, ahem, argument issue on the news didn’t keep you away!”

“Right.” Leanne didn’t have the heart to tell her it almost did. “S-So, uh, the questions that I had?..mainly about how I pay for this-“

Charlie held up a hand to silence Leanne, letting go of her arm to lead rather than pull, “You don’t! As long as you are showing progress towards your goal of redemption, you don’t owe anything! Just keep showing us your best behavior! Sound fair to you?”

“Sure,” Leanne tried to sound trusting, smiling the best she could remember how to, “Sounds fair.”

They had finally reached the source of the piano music. It was coming from behind two heavy doors with ‘Ballroom’ written on a sign above them. Along with the instrument, a voice could now be heard. It sounded as though someone was listening to an old 1930s radio host singing a song while playing along to it.

“I’m going to introduce you to my co-manager. He’ll be excited to see we have a second patron!” Charlie sang and pushed the doors open while Leanne thought about how there were only two guests in this ginormous place.

“Alastor, we have a new guest!”

The music stopped abruptly as Charlie spoke, and the one playing the piano stood from the bench and turned towards the two she-demons.

Leanne was terrified of him. Instantly and morbidly. Something about him sent a sub-zero chill down her spin that then went cascading out through her limbs. Her hands felt numb, her mouth felt dry, her head swimming. It was not unlike the feeling right before you wake from a terrible, horrific nightmare. Her tail coiled back around her waist as she tried to calm herself

Alastor was very tall, handsome, and incredibly thin. He wore a deep red pinstriped suit with a black tie in the shape of an upside down cross. His hair was shaggy, red on the top with a line of black around the bottom. Atop the Demon’s head were two small deer antlers, along with two tall tufts of hair that looked like they could be deer ears, matching red with the rest of his hair and tipped black on top.

His eyes were huge, dark red sclera with light red irises. His smile was even bigger, sharp yellow teeth stretching sinister from ear to ear. His skin was a grey similar in dullness to her own. He adjusted the monocle in front of his right eye as he looked over Leanne. His eyes glowed dimly.

Alastor suddenly threw his arms up in an exaggerated show of glee, “That’s wonderful news, my dear!”

His voice was the host Leanne thought she’d heard before. The demon spoke with a transatlantic accent, and it sounded as if there were an old radio transmitter in his throat. “The more the merrier as they say!”

He stepped forward, the sound of tap dance shoes clacking against the floor accompanying his footfalls. Leanne wanted to run away from him. Her mind was screaming at her to leave, forget this whole idea, and never come back. However, her body wouldn’t cooperate and Alastor had an arm around her and Charlie’s shoulders before she could do anything anyway, “We’re so delighted to have you, sweetheart! This place has been so very dull lately with just the few of us mucking about!”

He seemed friendly enough, so what was it about him that made Leanne’s heart feel like it was going to pound out of her chest? She hated him. His energy felt...bad. Wrong. Dangerous. She’d never felt worse about anyone, and that included the other demons she’d met down here. Her hands had gone from numb to sweaty, and yet she felt terribly cold now. This fear was all consuming, and it was touching her shoulders.

“So, what’s your name, mystery doll?” He tilted his head in the most uncanny way, staring down at her with sharp teeth and eyes unblinking.

Leanne’s tongue felt like a lead brick in her mouth, “I..uh...I-It’s-I’m, uh-“

Charlie gave a concerned chuckle, “Her name is Leanne.” She slipped out from under Alastor’s arm and gently touched the other girl’s shoulder, “Are you okay?”

Leanne was thankful to look at Charlie instead of him, and even more so to feel Alastor’s arm drop away from her as he took a step away.

“Y-Yes. Sorry. I’m just..” She glanced at Alastor, and instantly regretted it. His eyes were focused hard on her, his grin wide and full of teeth. Leanne could tell he knew she was feeling this way, “I just, um, g-get nervous around new people. That’s..that’s all.”

Charlie opened her mouth, but Alastor boomed over her, “Well that’s perfectly fine, sweetheart! I was being rude anyway. My name is Alastor, and I’m the co-manager of this fine establishment! I’m sure being here long enough will help you burst right out of that pretty shell of yours!”

“Yes it will!” Charlie clapped her hands together with a little hop, “We have so many activities planned for everyone who comes to stay here! Ice breakers, games, classes, you’ll never be bored and you’ll never not have people to talk to!”

“Assuming more folks do come by, of course!” Alastor added smugly, causing Charlie to shoot him a look.

“More will come, Al. Have a little bit of faith.” She walked passed Leanne to the door way, “If you follow me now, Leanne, I can show you to your room!”

“O-Okay.” She didn’t need to be told twice, grateful to get away from that radio-voiced Demon. She went to follow the princess out the door.

“I can already tell by looking at you, dear.” Alastor started, causing Leanne to stop for a moment. She wouldn’t look back at him. The static in his voice cleared as he spoke, “You’re going to be a very entertaining guest.”