#we got that random guy talking to the pink person whose like important or something

[raddestrose]

Im guessing that teddy bear is going to be important or something

[commentaryvorg]

Digimon Savers Commentary Episode 3 - The Genius Who Returned Home, Tohma! Crush Meramon!

In this episode, we’re introduced to Tohma, whose return to the Japanese branch of DATS immediately sparks a hostile rivalry between him and Masaru. Meanwhile, Masaru’s first mission as a DATS member presents him with the tricky conundrum of figuring out how to punch fire.

We open with Masaru and Agumon stuffing their faces at the Daimon family breakfast table.

Sayuri:  “My, my. Masaru never usually gets up before the afternoon on a Sunday. This must be thanks to Agu-chan!”

Masaru habitually sleeping in on non-school days is deeply relatable.

But more importantly, it’s lovely that him meeting Agumon has changed that! Though Masaru might have got something out of fighting random street punks before, it seems that it wasn’t quite exciting enough to him to get him out of bed early for it. It was probably more just that he’d wander around town bored and pick fights with anyone who seemed up for it out of a lack of anything better to do.

But now that he and Agumon have got all these Digimon to fight, Masaru’s got a real reason to wake up as soon as possible to go do that! Meeting Agumon has genuinely made him a whole lot happier with his life.

Also it is adorable how Sayuri and Chika have already taken to calling Agumon “Agu-chan”. It’s a cute sign that they see him as exactly the dorky kid that he is rather than as some weird monster, and also that they see him as one of the family, which is absolutely what he is now.

Can we please appreciate Chika’s done-ness here. I love her.

Masaru:  “What the hell, Mom! Serve me before Agumon!”

Sayuri:  “I never said you wouldn’t have your share. Just wait for a bit. After all, Agu-chan’s still a child.”

Again with the just treating Agumon like the big kid that he is. Sayuri is so good.

We are also introduced to the glorious treasure that is Sayuri’s fried eggs! Agumon has certainly discovered how great they are.

(Technically, these are tamagoyaki, a Japanese miniature rolled omelette thing. But the subs go with fried eggs, which is close enough and rolls off the tongue quicker in English.)

Masaru:  “Gimme that!”

Agumon:  “I won’t hand over the last of Sayuri’s fried eggs, not even to you!”

Oh, won’t you, Agumon? Not ever?

(This is another line to keep in mind for a lot later.)

Chika:  “What a child…”

As Masaru wrestles Agumon in an attempt to literally get the fried egg back from out of his mouth, Chika observes that she’s somehow the most mature of the three Daimon kids. (Yes, I said three, what of it.)

Meanwhile, Tohma is… having a gratuitous shower scene. Uhhh, sure. Apparently this totally needed to be his introduction. …Look, at least I appreciate that the fanservice is being equal-opportunity in terms of gender. (For now.)

He also has a butler, and is living in a pretty big but mostly quiet and empty mansion. This sequence is about showing the huge contrast between Masaru and Tohma’s home lives, but I do not know why the writers thought a shower scene was necessary for that.

(Tohma mentioned at the end of last episode that this country is his mom’s homeland, but he sure doesn’t appear to be staying with his mom right now, does he.)

Agumon attempts to fit himself into the basket of a bike which I can only imagine is Chika’s, because I don’t think Masaru’s bike would be pink. Agumon doesn’t seem to realise this. Chika doesn’t seem to want to tell him. He is such a ridiculous dork.

Meanwhile, Tohma gets seen off in the morning by the mansion’s staff bowing goodbye to him, and then is driven around in a limo.

Masaru’s “transportation”, on the other hand, is running down the street while giving Agumon a piggy back. Apparently this is so that Agumon can stay still and pretend to be a really big stuffed toy, but he’s kind of ruining that by talking and waving his arms around to cheer his aniki on.

(Of course, the most obvious way to not have Agumon raise suspicion would be to keep him in his Digivice, but it seems they’ve already agreed offscreen that that’s not an option because Agumon doesn’t like it in there. Yoshino and Satsuma would probably have some words to say to them about that, but hey, they’re not here, so Masaru’s gonna let his follower stay outside and be happier.)

Masaru:  “Uh… what do I press again? This? No…”

Masaru, that DATS earpiece only has like two buttons on it, it can’t be that hard to figure out.

Yoshino:  “We have a Digimon signal.”

Masaru:  “Where?!”

Yoshino:  “Area C-7. Can you get there directly?”

Masaru:  “Yeah! Leave it to us!”

Not pictured: Masaru wondering where the heck “C-7” is and why he impulsively said he could definitely get there when it could be on the other side of the city for all he knows.

(Okay, that’s probably not actually what happens. Somehow we are supposed to believe that Masaru – Masaru – memorised all these location codes that DATS uses remarkably quickly. I imagine he knows the city quite well, but these codes for the areas are presumably a DATS-only thing that civilians wouldn’t be familiar with.)

Street punk #1:  “So boring…”

Street punk #2: “Nothing’s going on at all…”

PetitMeramon: “Nothing at all!”

This is the first time we’ve seen a rampaging Digimon speak… but it doesn’t necessarily seem to be expressing its own thoughts. Rather, it’s just parroting these bored dudes. The PetitMeramon goes on to float down the street and set things on fire, which certainly makes it so that something interesting’s finally going on. It almost seems as if this is happening because these dudes were bored and wanted some kind of excitement, even if they weren’t necessarily wishing for this.

This is almost immediately followed by Masaru and Agumon showing up, which… the timing of that doesn’t exactly work out for the PetitMeramon to have only just appeared, assuming this is the Digimon signal Yoshino told him about while he was still in his own neighbourhood. But I’m still very sure that the writers want us to feel like these dudes’ boredom is related to the PetitMeramon being here, and honestly, showing us that is more important than getting meaningless details like the timing of things exactly right, so I don’t actually care.

Masaru:  “Let’s fight!”

PetitMeramon: “Fight…”

Again, still not really speaking for itself, just parroting. Though this time it’s parroting a different person, so maybe what we can take from this is that there were some other bored people who originally brought it here and now it’s just parroting and acting on the thoughts of whoever happens to be nearby. (It’s true that we didn’t actually hear the sound of a Digital Gate opening just now.)

Unfortunately for our pair of dorks, a living fireball like PetitMeramon is immune to Agumon’s fire attacks and not solid enough for Masaru to punch. And without punching it, Masaru can’t get his Digisoul, so he can’t evolve Agumon either. This is the absolute worst possible enemy for them to try and fight.

Naturally, they just chase it further down the street anyway, giving absolutely no care to the random dudes who just watched a giant lizard and a living fireball duke it out. Despite being a DATS member now, Masaru is still really not here for all of the calculated government secrecy stuff.

Luckily, Tohma arrives on the scene in his limo and cleans up these loose ends Masaru left using a memory-wipe flashy thing. And, to be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if Satsuma just didn’t even give one of those to Masaru in the first place. I’m not sure I’d trust him not to accidentally point it the wrong way when using it or something, given that he could barely figure out the two buttons on his earpiece. Masaru and technology do not mix.

(…Though I have to wonder why Gaomon then emerges from the limo and isn’t inside his Digivice. Sure, the flashy thing knocked out those dudes so they’re not a problem right now, but do you really not expect to run into any more people as you chase down the target? …But of course, the only real reason Gaomon is out right now is so that we can get a brief glimpse of him as a stinger before the opening.)

Okay! Okay!

I can jump over any limits!

Feel that excitement passionately!

Some more gung-ho opening lyrics! These feel appropriate here, as the idea of Masaru’s burning passionate excitement is going to be a bit of a thing in this episode, as is the idea that he brashly considers himself to have no limits whatsoever.

At DATS HQ, Masaru is grumpy about not being able to win.

Yoshino:  “Well, I didn’t think it would go easily for you from the start.”

Honestly, having seen how easily Masaru handled the fights in the first two episodes, I would have expected things to go easily for him, at least in terms of fighting. It only didn’t because this specific enemy happens to be immune to all of his usual tactics. The more logistical side of things, such as the secrecy and the memory wiping stuff, I can see Masaru needing a while to get used to (though, spoiler, he’s, uh, never really going to become any good at that at all), but not the fighting.

Tohma shows up with the PetitMeramon’s Digiegg, presenting it to Yoshino and not even acknowledging Masaru’s presence.

Miki and Megumi, the two young women who work the tech side of things at HQ, begin fawning over him, which is, uh, a liiittle questionable when he’s fourteen and they’re… it’s never made clear exactly how old, but definitely at least adults. Thankfully, this mostly goes away and stops being much of a thing after this episode.

There is also Gaomon! He is a good dog. Though right now he’s being as dismissive as his master and ignoring Agumon when Agumon tries to ask who he is.

Masaru:  “You bastard! You took away my prey!”

It’s so Masaru to be mad about this. That PetitMeramon was his opponent first, and now he can’t even settle the fight himself because this guy came in and defeated it before he could!

Tohma barely looks at him, and…

Masaru:  “What, gonna fight?”

…of course Masaru is ready to start a fight over this, because this is how he’s used to settling disputes.

But actually Tohma was just turning to walk towards Satsuma, still pretty much entirely ignoring Masaru’s presence.

Tohma:  “I’ve looked through the written reports, and it seems rather peculiar that there are a large number of Digimon detected in this country lately.”

[…]

Satsuma:  “Is the frequency not as high in EU?”

Tohma:  “No. It must be because it has a larger area.”

I do not understand what Tohma is trying to get at with that last part. Since Europe is bigger than just Japan, surely that means they’d expect more Digimon incidents in it, not less.

That weird part aside, though, it is a relevant point that Japan in particular has been seeing more Digimon incidents than anywhere else. There’s a reason for this.

Masaru is fed up with Tohma acting like he doesn’t exist and walks up to cough pointedly behind him. It’s actually rather unlike Masaru to be passive-aggressive and indirect like this, but it does amuse me.

Satsuma:  “Oh, let me introduce you. This is…”

[Tohma barely even glances at Masaru; Masaru gets angry]

Masaru:  “Hey! I don’t care if you’re called Tohma or Tonma… but around here, I’m your senpai! I’ve only been here for three days, but make sure to call me ‘Daimon-san’ or ‘Daimon-senpai’!”

Not that it takes much for Masaru to go back to his usual direct approach to things. Tohma just waltzing in here, easily defeating the opponent that Masaru was struggling against, getting immediate respect from everyone else in the room and barely even acknowledging Masaru as worthy of looking at makes Masaru feel inferior, which riles him up and gets him flailing to assert some kind of superiority in a really transparent way.

See, Masaru wouldn’t usually care all that much about people showing the appropriate politeness when referring to him, but when it’s this jerk who’s making him feel like this, damn right he’s going to insist that the three days more he’s been here is totally enough to count as making him a senpai. (A senpai means someone senior within the same group; it’s a Japanese concept that doesn’t quite have a direct English equivalent, hence the subs leaving it as-is and just giving us a translators’ note explaining it.)

Calling him “Tonma” – which another translators’ note informs us is a word for an idiot, so basically Masaru’s just insulting him in a very juvenile way – is, of course, not exactly the best way to establish himself as a mature and senior senpai.

Satsuma and Yoshino point out that actually Tohma is Masaru’s senpai, because he used to work here until he took a six-month trip to work at a DATS branch in Europe, which he’s just returned from.

Masaru:  “B-But no matter how you look at it, he’s the same age as I am…”

Establishing Tohma’s age as being also fourteen. (Though technically Masaru wouldn’t necessarily know his exact age and is just saying he seems similarly aged, but whatever, Tohma is fourteen as well, let’s go with it. Their rivalry has a much more fun dynamic if they really are exactly the same age rather than one having a year or two of seniority over the other.)

They also go on to add that Tohma is a genius who already has a degree (and even more than that, as we’ll later learn). And, okay, while on paper Tohma’s genius achievements are probably wildly unrealistic for anyone to have managed at the age of fourteen no matter how clever they are, it doesn’t really bother me. In practice, the genius thing isn’t here to make Tohma magically unrealistically special; it’s here to make him interesting and a great foil for Masaru. Tohma is a very well-written character whom I really like, almost as much as Masaru, and I’m looking forward to getting to talk about him a lot here.

On top of this, the Norstein family is Austrian nobility, so Tohma’s practically a prince as well. (Again, there’s very much a point to this that’s relevant to his character and not just for the sake of making him special). And they add that Gaomon is the most accomplished battler they have among the Digimon at DATS (not that there’s that many for him to compete with there).

Satsuma:  “Be sure to get along with each other, as you are colleagues.”

Yep, Masaru’s sure to have no problems getting along with this person whom you just lengthily explained is way more awesome than he is despite being the same age as him.

Masaru certainly doesn’t seem too happy about this.

Tohma:  “I think it will be futile to do so, Captain Satsuma. There is not a chance that this person could benefit DATS.”

Masaru:  “What d’you mean?!”

[Tohma only barely glances at Masaru before turning back to the Captain]

Tohma:  “People like him should be dismissed at once.”

…Though, it turns out, Tohma is also equally unwilling to even attempt to play nice. All this barely even glancing at Masaru and talking about him rather than to him is kind of a dick move. Really, Masaru and Tohma are being equally as rude to each other here, albeit in completely different ways.

Masaru:  “Say that to my face! Look into a person’s eyes when they’re talking!”

And I love that this in particular is what gets to Masaru the most. He’s always so straightforward, and being that way is important to him. He can’t stand people beating around the bush and being vague about their intentions rather than just coming out and saying what they really mean directly to the person involved.

To be fair to Tohma, he does actually listen and look Masaru straight in the eye this time.

Tohma:  “You and your partner are not suited for DATS.”

Yoshino:  “Tohma!”

I like Yoshino protesting here. Even she thinks this is going a bit far.

And it is a bit far, really – sure, Tohma caught a glimpse of Masaru and Agumon’s rather unfortunate fight against the PetitMeramon earlier, but that’s hardly enough evidence to decide that they have absolutely nothing to offer. This says less about Masaru and Agumon and more about Tohma himself: he’s something of a perfectionist, and he doesn’t like the idea of working with anyone who doesn’t match up to his very high standards.

(College degree as a teenager? Member of Austrian nobility? Yeah, we can already guess where some of that might come from.)

Masaru, being Masaru, has had enough and just tries to punch Tohma – but he blocks it easily.

Tohma:  “Really, now. You want to face me with that level of power? How incredibly pathetic.”

Masaru:  “What do you mean, ‘that level’? How strong does that make you, then?!”

This is the first person Masaru’s met in probably a really long time who’s said anything to the effect that he’s not strong enough, who’s implied that there’s some other, higher level of strength that Masaru just doesn’t have yet. He’s not used to thinking of his strength in those terms, and feeling inferior. Isn’t he supposed to be the number one street fighter in Japan? How can there be any kind of greater strength he doesn’t have?

Tohma:  “Do I have to answer that?”

Masaru:  “Yeah! Go on, show me! Let’s see the truth behind all that bragging!”

Of course Tohma has to answer that and actually prove himself! Masaru is all about actions rather than words; if someone’s claiming they’re stronger than him, there’s no way he’s going to just accept that until he tests it out for himself.

It turns out Tohma is indeed perfectly willing to put his money where his mouth is, because we cut to what’s presumably a gym somewhere in the DATS HQ, in which there is a boxing ring. I might call this awkwardly convenient, but no, actually, since Tohma used to work here (and he’s into boxing, as we’re about to see), it makes a lot of sense that he might have asked to have one installed for himself to use recreationally in between missions.

Yoshino:  “Hey! Put on your headgear!”

Masaru:  “I don’t need it! Besides, he’s not wearing any!”

Masaru and Tohma are both being reckless idiots here, pointlessly endangering themselves because of their pride. They’re both telling themselves “I don’t need to protect myself to win against him”, and they’re certainly not going to be the only one to wear headgear while the other doesn’t and end up looking like they’re only winning because they have an unfair advantage, or like they’re wearing it because they’re worried.

It is notable that Yoshino is only trying to encourage Masaru to wear the headgear. Apparently she’s already expecting Tohma to have the upper hand here? Ouch.

As you’d expect, the first few moves of the fight are Masaru throwing wild punches at Tohma while he easily dodges them all.

Tohma:  “You put all your faith in power without using any strategy or tactics.”

Which pretty much sums up the entire Masaru-Tohma contrast going on here: reckless power versus careful strategy.

Tohma:  “Why did you join DATS?”

Masaru:  “Huh?! It was so I could win, obviously!”

Tohma:  “Against who?”

Masaru:  “Against strong guys!”

Look at how Masaru doesn’t even think to specify who he wants to win against at first, because the exact opponent he’s fighting isn’t the point. He just wants to challenge himself and prove to himself how strong he is by winning those challenges, and fighting Digimon happens to be the best way for him to do that right now.

Also look at how Masaru has completely stopped caring about the part where the other reason he joined was so that Agumon wouldn’t be taken from him. That genuinely does not matter to him any more, now that he’s here anyway because he wants to be.

(So it’s actually kind of a bit much that Tohma is insisting Masaru should be dismissed from DATS – because that would mean he’d lose not only this job, but also Agumon.)

Tohma finally stops just dodging and counters with a blow to Masaru’s stomach – the first punch that’s actually landed for either of them – giving him a sense of the high ground as he says these next words.

Tohma:  “What a boring story. DATS has an important mission. Every member has an obligation and a responsibility to carry that out.”

It’s very appropriate that Tohma would be so disdainful of Masaru being here for entirely personal reasons, while he feels like this whole thing is supposed to be about a sense of duty for a greater purpose. That noble Norstein family heritage is showing just a little bit.

Obviously, DATS’s general mission of covering up Digimon incidents is indeed important, but so long as he helps them do that anyway, what does it actually matter if that’s not the reason Masaru’s here?

Masaru:  “Shut up! Stop acting all elite!”

Masaru still does not like Tohma constantly acting like he’s better than him, like he’s just this perfect superhuman who doesn’t even have any personal desires of his own other than to do as he’s supposed to.

Tohma:  (He’s beyond help.)

Geez, Tohma, that is going a bit far. Again, he’s just writing Masaru off entirely because he doesn’t fit Tohma’s idea of how things should be, rather than trying to understand his different view on things.

(But of course, Masaru is not really being any better about trying to understand Tohma’s perspective and is currently similarly writing him off as an elitist jerk who needs to be taken down a peg.)

Tohma follows this thought up by punching Masaru right in the face, implying he’s been going easy until now and has finally started getting serious, expecting this single blow to end this. Which it does, because Masaru is knocked to the ground and doesn’t manage to rise for Yoshino’s count of ten, making Tohma the winner of this boxing match.

(please appreciate this look on Masaru’s face as he realises that Tohma has arguably beaten him, that maybe he really is inferior)

…But of course Masaru’s not just gonna stand for that. As Tohma is about to leave the ring, Masaru finally manages to get to his feet anyway.

Masaru:  “Wait right there… You really are… spouting a lot…”

Tohma:  “The match is over.”

Masaru:  “Match? What we’re having is a serious fight! It’s not a game!”

He doesn’t care about anything so pointlessly official as a match or a countdown to determine the winner. Settling their differences and proving who’s strongest goes way beyond those silly arbitrary restrictions!

With these words, Masaru manages to punch Tohma just as hard in the face… albeit only because Tohma was turned away and not quite ready to defend himself. Still, as far as Masaru would see it, in terms of his usual kind of fights, that’s on him! If he turned away from an opponent who’s still able and willing to fight him, that’s just letting his guard down!

Masaru:  “A fight doesn’t end until one side admits defeat!”

That’s the only rule Masaru needs for his street fights. So long as the combatants are still willing to fight each other, anything goes!

In fairness to Tohma, he doesn’t even complain about Masaru catching him off guard and seems quite willing to accept these new “terms” for the fight, because they jump right back into beating each other up.

We cut to later in the main control room.

Masaru:  “Damn it… That bastard…”

Yoshino:  “You should be happy it was a draw!”

Who’s betting it was Yoshino’s decision that it was a draw. I can’t imagine either Masaru or Tohma being willing to even admit to that much. After a while of them trading blows and obviously being quite evenly matched to the point that this could end up going on forever, Yoshino probably stepped in and insisted they call it off as a draw before they seriously hurt each other.

Yoshino:  “Tohma’s beaten Olympic champions in the past.”

…Yeah, so also on top of everything else, Tohma is a supremely talented boxer. But I don’t mind, because something like that is necessary for him to be able to equal Japan’s number one street fighter in a fistfight. And his fighting style being the precise and controlled sport of boxing rather than anything-goes street brawls once again serves to contrast their approaches. Tohma’s boxing talent is just another part of making him Masaru’s equal and opposite. These two are such good foils for each other.

Masaru:  “Well, I’ve taken out the leader of the third Minato high school!”

That is totally an equivalent thing here, right. He’s successfully beaten tough guys, too, the context doesn’t matter. Masaru was expecting to win and not just draw, damn it!

Yoshino:  “Really, the only things worthy of a gold medal around here are your pride and your competitive attitude.”

I love her snark. She’s not wrong. (Though really, Tohma’s pride would be giving Masaru just as much competition for that medal.)

I also love how pouty Masaru is.

It’s interesting how Yoshino’s putting band-aids on Masaru’s bruises, yet Tohma then walks into the room (still barely acknowledging Masaru) with an equally bruised face, and Yoshino’s not trying to tend to him. It’s like how she was only trying to get Masaru to wear the headgear earlier and not Tohma.

At this point, I doubt this is so much about thinking Masaru is weaker and more in need of this than Tohma, since she just watched them match each other in a fight. So maybe it’s more that Yoshino finds Masaru more approachable than Tohma. For all his reckless stubbornness, Masaru’s basically still a regular person, while Tohma’s from a whole other world to her. Perhaps she simply feels more comfortable directing this mom-friend behaviour at Masaru rather than Tohma, despite having known Tohma for longer.

The Digimon-signal alarm blares and Masaru instantly shifts to this excited grin. What a dork.

It’s more PetitMeramon. A lot of them. Turns out that if even the tiniest flame from their body is left behind, it can develop into a new PetitMeramon. Hearing this prompts Masaru to recall his earlier unsuccessful attempts to punch it, which only succeeded in sending little embers from its body flying everywhere.

Masaru:  (This is my fault…)

It’s admirable of Masaru to immediately acknowledge this rather than stubbornly try and make excuses to himself and pretend he totally didn’t mess anything up at all. But it is notable that he’s not saying that out loud. Which is probably because Tohma’s in the room, and he doesn’t want to give Tohma even more ammo to keep claiming that he’s a liability here.

Kudamon:  “It’s up to you, Tohma, Gaomon.”

Masaru:  “Wait! Those fireballs are ours to beat!”

Masaru insists this partly because he’s still frustrated that he didn’t get to finish the fight himself earlier, but almost certainly also because he feels responsible for this. This is his mess, and he wants to at least make up for it by being the one to fix things.

Tohma:  “Are you 100% certain you can secure these Digimon?”

Masaru:  “Damn right! We’ll pull it off somehow using our spirits!”

Such certainty. Masaru is definitely the kind of person to optimistically throw himself into things without being sure what the outcome will be. Usually, it might be reasonable to bank on that, but against this particular enemy which Masaru and Agumon currently have no way of even damaging… probably not.

Satsuma:  “This time, Tohma and Gaomon are best for the job.”

Satsuma realises this, too, of course. I like how he’s specifying that this is only because Tohma and Gaomon are more suited for this particular job, which is extremely true, and not that they’re better overall, which Masaru would not respond well to.

Satsuma:  “Yoshino. You and Lalamon will go to support Tohma.”

Which is to say, Yoshino will drive the car, because Tohma isn’t old enough to do that. (Lalamon won’t really be doing anything at all.) Tohma came to the earlier fight from his limo, but it seems that was only because he was being driven to DATS HQ and happened across the Digimon on the way. Limousines are not the usual DATS-approved method of transportation to Digimon incidents, funnily enough.

Masaru, having been ordered to stay behind and just watch them, is left feeling frustrated and inadequate.

(It’s really only because you can’t punch fire, Masaru!)

Gaomon fighting alone against the swarm of PetitMeramon achieves basically nothing, so Tohma very quickly switches from “Plan A” to “Plan A-2” and evolves him. (I like how it’s not “Plan B” and is totally just an alternate version of the first plan. It’s definitely not that trying to fight a swarm of several Child-level Digimon with a single Child-level was ever a bad plan and really he should have evolved Gaomon from the start.)

It’s a neat detail that Tohma clicks his fingers to summon his Digisoul. Yoshino does kind of a similar thing, not clicking her fingers but instead making a very particular emphatic motion with her hand. It’s like they need some sort of psychological trigger to get it to work – which then also makes it slightly less ridiculous that Masaru needs to outright punch a Digimon to get his to show up. It’s just a stronger kind of psychological trigger, is all! And Tohma and Yoshino have been doing this for a long time. Maybe it usually takes a lot of practice to be able to get one’s Digisoul to show up on command, and the reason why Masaru’s has this extra condition to trigger it is actually because he’s new at this.

I want to take this moment to inform everyone that Gaogamon is a very good fuzzy doggy. He’s one of my favourite Digimon designs.

As an Adult-level, Gaogamon is exponentially stronger than these Child-level PetitMeramon and can easily take down the entire swarm of them in a single attack. Digimon evolution levels, everybody. This isn’t even Gaogamon being especially impressive; this is just how it was always going to turn out.

Tohma:  “3 minutes, 47 seconds. We shortened it by another minute.”

Okay, so, some of Tohma’s genius traits can come across as a little bit silly in practice, such as this idea here that he and Gaomon have been timing themselves in their fights against rogue Digimon and constantly bringing that time down. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that each opponent they fight is different, so really it should be completely unreasonable to act like their times for each fight are at all comparable and that completing one fight faster than another means anything. (Plus, this is a thing that’s never going to come up again.)

Still, I do appreciate the narrative purpose of this bit – to show that Tohma is always pushing to improve himself and be better, despite being so incredibly hypercompetent at everything he does already. A lot like Masaru is always striving to challenge himself and get stronger despite already feeling like the strongest fighter in Japan! They are really not so different in a lot of ways.

Also, note how Tohma is getting to fight here, but it’s not the climactic fight of the episode. Just like I talked about for Yoshino in the previous episode: even though this is his introduction, this is not actually Tohma’s episode. It’s still Masaru’s. Tohma gets to have this fight and win it not for his own sake (the whole thing is so effortless that it’s not at all an interesting narrative from his point of view), but rather for the sake of Masaru’s conflict in this episode, because seeing how good Tohma is at this contributes to Masaru’s feelings of inferiority.

Agumon:  “Wow…”

Having watched Tohma and Gaomon’s performance from HQ, even Agumon can’t help but be impressed. But then he catches himself and looks guiltily at Masaru, realising he’s just making him feel worse. Aww.

It is interesting to note how, despite all the similarities between him and Masaru, Agumon himself doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by being outclassed by Gaomon in the same way. After all, he’s still a kid who knows he’s got a lot to learn from his aniki; Agumon has never tried to present himself as the best person around at fighting like Masaru does.

Kudamon:  “Understand now? This is the difference in ability between you and Tohma.”

Kudamon is apparently quite happy to imply that Masaru is significantly inferior to Tohma. Satsuma, though, doesn’t say anything to agree. I get the sense that Kudamon was a lot less on board with bringing Masaru into DATS, even though he ultimately accepted Satsuma’s decision to do so.

Masaru rushes out of the control room in frustration, with Agumon following.

Kudamon:  “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

Satsuma:  “Leave him alone.”

I like that Satsuma gets that this is something Masaru needs to figure out on his own, and that trying to talk to him directly about this is probably only going to make him feel worse.

(It’s this kind of approach of Satsuma’s that makes me think that him being so indirect about recruiting Masaru was on purpose out of him wanting Masaru to make the decision for himself.)

Masaru runs out of the DATS building through a tunnel that I’m pretty sure incidentally happens to be the same one we saw Agumon escaping through at the very beginning of the first episode.

Agumon:  “Aniki… Why are you angry?”

Masaru:  “Shut up!”

[Masaru trips in his running and falls to the ground]

Masaru:  “Damn it…”

I enjoy how Masaru tripping over serves to illustrate how his unthinking recklessness doesn’t always end well.

Agumon:  “Well, I think Tohma and Gaomon are nasty guys too, but…”

Aww, Agumon, trying to show that he’s still on his aniki’s side. And, yeah, he agrees that Tohma and Gaomon have been kind of dicks to them so far, but… (but still, he doesn’t get why Aniki is this upset about it.)

Masaru looks at Agumon with this bitter look for a moment, almost like he’s tempted to agree and just keep sniping at Tohma… but then he drops it.

Masaru:  “No… It’s myself that I’m mad at, not them.”

Of course that’s been what this is really about. This is the first time in a long time that Masaru’s been given any sense that he’s not good enough at something he really wants to do. This isn’t about Tohma; Tohma’s presence just brought this out of him.

And hey, big props to Masaru for being willing to admit this! He couldn’t quite do so at HQ in front of everyone, and especially not in front of Tohma himself, but at least he’s willing to do so here in front of Agumon. A weaker person could easily have kept insisting that, no, this totally is all about that arrogant jerk Tohma, and avoided the necessary self-reflection, but Masaru is generally pretty good at being emotionally honest about things, even when it stings.

He also happens to pull the band-aid off his face at this moment, which I enjoy – needing his wounds patched up is a sign of weakness that he doesn’t like having.

Masaru:  “Damn it! What am I doing? Really… what the hell am I doing?”

You’re doing your best, Masaru! Just like you’ve always, always been doing!

I really like how Masaru can’t actually properly articulate what the problem is. He knows there’s something wrong, something that’s frustrating him about himself, but he can’t put it into words. It doesn’t seem like he’s properly consciously aware of why he’s so into his whole fighting thing, and why he wanted to “fight stronger opponents” through joining DATS, so he can’t quite grasp why feeling like he’s not good enough at this bothers him so much.

Also, my compliments to the animators, and to Masaru’s VA. He looks and sounds like he’s on the brink of tears here, and it is good.

Masaru reaches the end of the tunnel… and who should he run into but the old man who gave him his Digivice, who’s sitting there cooking a fish like nothing is more natural.

Old man:  “It’s hard lighting up a fire… The sparks go out easily whenever the wind gets a little too strong.”

Masaru:  “Well, obviously!”

Old man:  “But… once I get a larger flame going, it burns strongly no matter how much the wind blows. Fire is an interesting thing, isn’t it?”

What we learned about the old man last episode is that he finds Masaru interesting and likes randomly showing up whenever Masaru is acting in a way that he considers to be interesting. Apparently, he got wind somehow of the fact that Masaru has been having these doubts, and so he showed up to just… observe, and express his observations in metaphor form. He’s comparing Masaru to the fire, saying that right now his “sparks” aren’t quite strong enough to keep going when something challenges them – but that soon enough, if he just keeps growing more, he’ll become so strong that nothing will be able to stand in his way.

That said, I highly, highly doubt that the old man expects Masaru to actually learn anything from this metaphor – I’m sure he must know well enough to expect anything and everything metaphorical to go right over Masaru’s head. This isn’t actually an attempt to give Masaru advice. This guy just likes being a mysterious old man who makes abstract metaphors about people he finds interesting, that’s all. Sooner or later, Masaru’s flame is going to burn so brightly that nothing at all can blow it out, and won’t that be fascinating to watch?

(I agree, old man. It will. That’s why I’m here, too.)

[Masaru stares intently at the fire the old man has managed to light]

Masaru:  “This is…”

And naturally, Masaru, who wouldn’t understand a metaphor if it punched him in the face, completely failed to pick up on what the old man was getting at. Instead, what this metaphor also coincidentally (or maybe not so coincidentally?) happened to be was some pretty useful advice on how to deal with the very literal, practical problem he’s been having today.

Before he can think on that further, Masaru hears a conversation over his earpiece. There’s more PetitMeramon signals, in a place where gas tanks are – not a great place for living fireballs to be flying around – and Yoshino and Tohma are 10 minutes away in their car.

Masaru:  “Leave it to me!”

Yoshino:  “Huh? What are you saying?”

Tohma:  “You can’t do it!”

Masaru:  “Shut up! I can get there in 3 minutes!”

The perfect opportunity for Masaru to get the chance to prove himself! Under other circumstances, it’d be arguably better for Masaru to stay back and leave this to Tohma again. Having shown some self-reflection on things, even Masaru himself would probably be willing to accept that and relent. But in an emergency like this, when he’s the closest one to it? Damn it, he has to at least try.

Since the “there” in question was only described as being “Area B-42”, what we have to conclude from this is that somehow Masaru has magically memorised all those location codes already. He doesn’t seem to be making this up to save face; he’s looking at an area off in the distance that he’d probably reasonably be able to sprint to in that time.

(Well, either that or he just assumed based on knowing that this is the only remotely nearby area with gas tanks. Maybe it’s that.)

Satsuma:  “I won’t approve of this!”

Masaru:  “Whatever, just watch! I’ll get ‘em this time!”

This isn’t Masaru arrogantly trying to show off and refusing to acknowledge that he’s unsuited for this. This is Masaru genuinely caring about trying to prevent the crisis if he can – and this time, he does have at least some idea of how to go about doing so.

Masaru makes it to the gas tanks, where there are indeed three PetitMeramon floating around.

Masaru:  “Agumon! Use Baby Burner!”

I’m… not sure how Masaru knew that Agumon even has an attack called Baby Burner, since he’s never used it before. I would say he could have had some kind of offscreen fight as a DATS member already in the three days he’s been here, but Yoshino’s response to his failure earlier suggested that today was indeed his first proper DATS mission.

Agumon:  “My attacks don’t work on them!”

Masaru:  “You heard me, do it!”

Agumon:  “Okay…”

Agumon is such a loyal follower! He doesn’t understand why this is a good idea – in fact, it seems like a thoroughly bad one – but he trusts his aniki’s judgement and does it anyway, even as it only seems to make the PetitMeramon stronger and Masaru keeps ordering more.

After enough fire, the three PetitMeramon grow strong enough to fuse together and evolve into Meramon. (Hey, at least this one’s a non-partnered evolution that makes sense to be happening right now.)

Agumon:  “It evolved! What now, Aniki?”

[Masaru grins]

Masaru:  “This is perfect!”

I love Masaru’s cocky taunting face here. He knows he’s got this, and he’s so ready to just have a good old fight again, like always.

Masaru:  “Fire sparks easily go out whenever the wind blows on them. But… Once they burst into flame…!”

[Masaru leaps to punch the Meramon quite solidly in the face and lands with his Digisoul flaring]

Masaru:  “They won’t be extinguished so easily!”

This was what he got out of the old man’s words. Not metaphorical advice about his emotional struggles, of course not – instead, just very literal advice on how to punch fire. He couldn’t punch the PetitMeramon because they were small enough that the wind of his punches just blew the flames out before he could connect. But if he makes the fire bigger and stronger? Then it’s no problem!

And you know what this is? This is Masaru using strategy. It’s a strategy that he needed someone else to nudge him towards – he’s still not really the kind of person to come up with something like this on his own – and it’s also a much more straightforward, reckless, Masaru-style strategy than someone cautious like Tohma would ever dare to use. But hey. It worked.

(Also, please appreciate this ridiculous shot of the DATS car skidding sideways as it dramatically arrives on the scene. That is not how cars work, but okay. …In fact, surely it’s been less than seven minutes that Masaru’s been here; I guess Yoshino floored it to get here as fast as she could, hence the dramatic skidding? She drives like a badass.)

Tohma:  “He got it to evolve on purpose… by making the fire stronger…”

See, even Tohma appreciates what the strategy was, even if he’s kind of gobsmacked at it being something so reckless.

And then, as usual, GeoGreymon wins the fight in a single attack. But again, I don’t really mind. The interesting part was getting to this point in the first place.

The Meramon disintegrates into three eggs, appropriate for the three PetitMeramon it came from – but it kinda raises some questions that this single Adult-level Digimon was effectively three individual Digimon in one. It also raises some questions that PetitMeramon was able to multiply itself just by its embers setting stuff on fire, and each of those multiplied offshoots also had its own individual egg. Is this just a particularly unique method of Digimon reproduction? I am definitely not supposed to be thinking about it this much.

Masaru:  “How’s that? I was able to take out the PetitMeramon, too!”

Having shown that he can do just as good of a job as Tohma after all, Masaru has bounced right back from his self-doubt and is feeling good about himself again. This kid doesn’t stay down for long.

Tohma:  “Don’t let this go to your head. You were just lucky this time.”

It really was not luck. Masaru used an actual strategy that he had good reason to believe would work. Tohma himself even just about acknowledged this during the fight… but not now, now that Masaru is properly listening to him and he’d have to acknowledge that to Masaru.

(A bit like how Masaru only acknowledged his own sense of inadequacy when Tohma wasn’t around.)

Masaru:  “It’s just like I told you. The ones who don’t give up until the end win the fight!”

Masaru claims this is like he told Tohma, but is it really about him? After all, Masaru himself was the one who had almost given up for a moment. It’s more like he’s saying this to remind himself that he shouldn’t have done that and should have just believed he could do it all along. (Like the old man said, he just needs to let his sparks grow into a bigger, unstoppable flame!)

We cut right from the location of the fight back to DATS HQ, while the argument amusingly continues as if there was no timeskip at all. They were probably arguing like this all the way back in the car, too. (Poor Yoshino.)

Tohma:  “Don’t be absurd. You don’t come up with any strategy or tactics. Do you think using force all the time will let you win at everything?”

He literally did come up with a strategy, though, Tohma! Maybe a strategy that relied on force, maybe not the kind of careful, cautious strategy that you’d use, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t count as a strategy!

Masaru:  “Hah, sounds like a sore loser to me.”

Yeah, I think Masaru’s spot on with this one. Tohma refusing to acknowledge Masaru’s approach in that fight as a legitimate if risky strategy really does seem like he’s just being a sore loser.

(Though I like how Masaru himself isn’t even trying to argue that it was strategic of him. Clearly that’s not something that he sees as being worth bragging about.)

Tohma:  “What did you say?”

Masaru:  “Wanna make somethin’ of it? I’ll knock you out with one hit to the face this time!”

Oh my god, Masaru. Look at this competitive dork. Now that he’s got his confidence back and feels like he is just as good or better than Tohma after all, he’s ready to have a rematch in the ring and certain that this totally means he’ll win this time!

Satsuma shuts them both up with his, quoth Yoshino, “thunderous demon roar” – apparently a regular thing of his – and declares that Masaru and Tohma will be working together as a team from now on. Naturally, they are both Not Happy about this.

Yoshino:  “This is the worst…”

Neither is Yoshino. This is a catchphrase of hers, which is sometimes used when things are going badly in a crisis, but is just as often used simply to express her sheer exasperation at the people around her. I love her role as the Only Sane Man among these two ridiculous over-the-top dorks she’s wound up working with.

Overall thoughts

I like this episode a lot! It’s a great introduction to Tohma, specifically in the context of him serving as a foil to Masaru.

There will be a lot more things about Tohma’s own issues and situation (like I said, there’s a reason for all the genius stuff, I promise) that we’ll eventually get into, but that’ll be a gradual process, because Tohma is not the sort of person to talk about his personal problems to anyone else. For now, since Masaru is the single main character of this series and we therefore see a lot of things through his perspective, it’s appropriate that Tohma is introduced in terms of how he differs from Masaru (as well as a few hints at their similarities).

Then, because of this, we get spend a lot of the episode on Masaru feeling outclassed and how he deals with that, and it’s delightful and subtle and I love it. The first two episodes were setting up the deal with Masaru encountering Agumon and joining DATS, but now that we’ve settled into a little more of a status quo, it’s the perfect time to start digging into Masaru’s character and have things begin to challenge his conception of his own strength. There will be more of this, and I’m looking very much forward to covering those episodes in particular.

This won’t really ever come up again, but it’s incidentally neat to see Masaru struggling with an enemy he can’t punch, and eventually coming up with a strategy by interpreting the old man’s metaphor about his issues literally, because of course he does.

I also just love the old man being there making metaphors about Masaru’s issues simply because he felt like it and finds Masaru interesting. He serves as a nice little narrative device to help draw the audience’s attention to when things are going on with Masaru, as we’ll see in a few more episodes in this arc. I can’t help but appreciate that about the old man, because it’s also basically what I’m doing with this commentary.

---

[Dub comparison]

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Heeeey 👀 Can you maybe write some Luke and reader being best friends where she have deeper feelings but he's just oblivious and claims he doesn't so one day Luke's talking about a possible love interest and she leaves the room and Calum follows her and hug her cause br0hs and Luke watch them and can't explain why is he feeling jealous so the next days he's an ass to Cal and they talk and Cal is like "just tell her you love her or someone else will« and he realizes he's in love and fluffy end 👀

Make Your Move - L. Hemmings

Hello my love! I’m so sorry this took so long! Thank you so much for the request! Requests are getting filled now, as I am on break from Uni! Hope you enjoy!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Luke was an intelligent person. He knew random things, he could memorize the chords to the most difficult of songs, solve math problems in seconds. He was a smart man.

But he was also the most ignorant person to walk across the face of the Earth.

Anybody could see the way that Y/N looked at him. How she seemed as if he brought the light to her world when he walked in the room.

When he spoke, she listened. When he joked, she laughed. When he threw his arms around her shoulders and kissed her cheek, her heart hammered away at her rib cage.

She had feelings for her best friend that were far deeper than one normally experiences with their friends. She wanted to grow old with him, share his last name, build a family and a life with him like she desired with no other.

“All I’m saying is, if Luke could walk around with Yoda in his backpack, why couldn’t I, whose name is also Luke, carry Petunia around with me?”

Calum rolled his eyes behind his phone, attempting to ignore the conversation being had between two of his friends. Ashton and Luke has originally been engaged in a conversation about Star Wats which quickly developed into what they would each do if they were living as Luke Skywalker.

Calum has zero care for the conversation, and didn’t pipe his head up from behind his device until he heard the ringing of Luke’s phone.

“September” by Earth, Wind and Fire flooded the room. The signal for a call from Y/N. Luke had made sure to alter his ringtone for her on the second day of their friendship after he discovered it was her favourite song.

“Hey Boo,” he answered, ignoring Ashton and walking to another room to carry out his conversation.

Ashton smirked at his friend as Luke walked away, sending him a knowing look. They could see the obvious tension between the two, yet they knew Y/N would never confess her crush and Luke was too oblivious to realize his feelings for her.

Michael sauntered into the room, a cringe deepening his features, “How can they talk to each other in such a lovey and gross way, yet not be together? It’s making me have an identity crisis.”

“They need to just call it a day and admit that they’re desperately in love with one another so I can get some peace,” Ashton whined. They were all currently occupying his lounge room, Michael going as far as to raid his kitchen for any type of snack he could get his hands on. Even if that meant the bunch of snacks from Australia that he had hidden from the man.

“There is no peace with us around. You should be used to that by now.” Calum had his phone in front of his face again. The guys often joked that he was chatting up some woman or looking at nsfw content, when in reality, Y/N got him hooked on Candy Crush and he’s dying to beat her high score.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Yeah, sure, I’ll see you in an hour.” Luke sauntered back into the room, a grin on his features that shone with genuine glee as he slid his phone back into the pocket of his trackpants.

“Got another date with our favourite Y/N?” Michael winked, a mouth full of Shapes.

Luke fought to keep the slight pink tinge from his cheeks, rolling his eyes at Michael. “It’s never a date. She’s my best friend, you know that.”

“You only say that because you’re scared that I’ll take offense. It’s okay, Muke can live on, even if you are with Y/N.”

Luke didn’t bother justifying Michael’s words with an answer. He hated when his friends would act like teenagers, gossiping and chiding him for his apparent crush on his best friend. Even if he didn’t have any feelings for her like that.

“Mate, you’re not fooling any of us,” Calum dropped his device into his lap, fixing his taller friend with an amused gaze. “You don’t need to keep your secrets from us. We won’t go spreading your business.”

Luke huffed, snatching a band from his wrist to tie his hair back. “There’s nothing to tell. Get it through your thick heads, fellas. Y/N is my best friend. Nothing more and will be nothing more.”

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

Y/N always felt most at ease when Luke was around. Despite her deep admiration for him, they had been friends for far longer than she had longed for him, and they knew one another inside and out.

Well... almost.

Calum had tagged along for their fortnightly movie night, and she found herself situated on the lounge between the two, her head on Luke’s shoulder and popcorn on her lap for the two men to claim when they wanted.

It was a battle between the two, as both wanted to hold the bowl so they could hog the snack, but she pulled rank and retrieved the booty.

They were almost an hour and a half into the first Avengers movie, and Luke had been glued to his phone the entire time. Even worse, his phone was on loud. Chiming every few seconds and interrupting Loki’s monologue and almost every word that Tony Stark spoke.

Both Calum and Y/N were at their wits end, but Y/N was far too polite to say anything.

Calum, on the other hand, gave zero fucks.

“Luke, so help me god, then your phone on silent or invite us and the whole cast of this damn movie into your conversation. We’re trying to listen,” the man snapped, causing Y/N to jump. Calum places his hand on her knee with an apologetic smile and Luke’s eyes lingered on the touch.

“Fine, sorry. Didn’t realize that the movie you both have seen over twenty times was so easily disrupted by the sound of my phone.” He stuck his tongue out at Y/N as she sent him a faux-glare. She was the kindest person he knew, and he often found himself spending hours thinking over her purity and angelic qualities.

She was admirable in his eyes.

“Nah.” Calum snatched the remote from the coffee table, switching the television off and twisting his body to face his two friends. “Now you need to spill. I want to know what’s so important that you can’t devote your attention to your two best friends and their favourite movie.”

Luke had half a brain to tell Calum to keep his nose to himself, but the curiosity in Y/N’s eyes made him want to spill his guts. She had more power over him than any of his other best friends had ever held. She had always been different. Something about her struck a different chord in him, and he could never figure out what it was.

Luke shifted slightly, waiting for Y/N to regain her position on his shoulder before wrapping one arm around her and directing his gaze to his brown-eyed friend.

“Jack gave me the number of one of his friends - Allie. We’ve been texting all day,” Luke said, attempting to keep his excitement on the down low. Y/N had always been sensitive on the topic of relationships. She never found comfort when in them, as if she were holding out for one thing. Luke would be damned if he knew what it was. “We’re going to get coffee next week.”

“That’s... that’s really good, mate. I’m happy for you,” Calum smiled at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, making sure to avoid Y/N’s head.

She looked up at Luke, offering a tight smile that appeared more forced than genuine. Calum was eyeing her, switching his gaze between his two friends to gauge both of their reactions.

It was silent for a moment.

“I, Uh, I’ll be back in a second,” Y/N cleared her throat, avoiding the eyes on her as she stood quickly and walked from the room.

Luke watched her leave, feeling something pang in his chest. His phone pinged on his lap once again, and he visibly smiled at the message on his phone.

But it did nothing to quell the tightness in his chest that followed Y/N’s absence.

Calum excused himself to use the bathroom, although it fell on deaf ears as Luke was far too absorbed in his phone, and the woman on the other end of the line.

Calum expected to hear the sound of somebody crying, given how fast Y/N’s feet had carried her out of the room. Instead, she was stood with her palms pressed against the granite countertop of her kitchen, head hung and shoulder slumped.

It was silent enough that they could hear Luke tapping away on his phone with the movie still paused in the background, even if they were separated by a bathroom between the two rooms.

She heard him enter, knowing full well that he would have followed her. Calum was a good friend like that. After all, he had done the same when Luke felt uncomfortable being around Y/N and her ex boyfriend six months prior.

“I’m fighting a losing battle, aren’t I?” She whispered, allowing Calum to properly listen to the pain in her tone.

His heart broke at the sound. “YN-“

“No matter how hard I try to let him know how much I care about him, it doesn’t work. I tell him how I feel and he thinks that I’m saying it as a friend, because that’s all I’ll ever be to him,” she mumbles, turning to press her back against the granite, and he watches as a tear rolls down her cheek. “He will never feel the same about me, so I don’t know why I’m trying to make something of nothing.”

He walks towards her, his large hands holding both of her shoulders in his palms. He’s at a loss for words, mouth gaping as he rubs the joints in his hand, before slipping his hands down to hers, all while trying to bring words to his tongue.

He knew that Luke felt the same about her, even if he didn’t realize it. It was obvious in the way he looked at Y/N, how he reacted to her presence, how he rarely stopped talking about her. Their entire friendship had been like looking at the naïve honeymoon phase, yet neither would openly confess their love for one another and believe the other.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he starts, testing the words before committing to his speech. “I wish I could grab him and shake him, sometimes.”

“I do too,” she sighed, pulling her hands from his and wrapping her arms round his waist.

He held her in his embrace, offering any comfort he could, unaware of the icy eyes fixing him with a glare as harsh as he could muster from the entryway.

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

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Luke to wake up with his friends in his house. After all, he often did the same to them. However, there was one person he definitely didn’t want to see, albeit, the person that was standing in his kitchen, drinking his coffee and reading his paper.

Calum seemed to want many things that Luke had as of late.

“Hey mate,” Calum chirped as Luke entered the kitchen. The mere sight of the man annoyed him, and he was flooded with an overwhelming sense of jealousy. He was not in the mood to deal with Calum at the moment.

Luke did all he could do not growl at the man upon sight, and instead chose to grab his own coffee and walk out of the room.

Calum and Luke had been friends for years, and held the kind of friendship that had never been dampened by an argument or a tiff of any kind.

Immediately, Calum was confused. He trailed after Luke, taking a seat next to him on the lounge as the blonde flicked through the channels on the television.

“How’d you sleep?” Calum asked, settling his gaze on the television yet his mind was focused on his friend.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Cal chuckled slightly, awkwardly.

“Yup.”

Calum flared his nostrils, shifting his eyes to now be on Luke. If he was going to get one syllable answers, even he would do so while trying to force the problem out of his friend.

“Have any weird dreams?”

“No.”

He still stared at Luke’s profile, eyes not moving.

“Petunia going on a diet anytime soon?”

“No.”

“She’s overweight, isn’t she?”

“Yup.”

“You should consider putting her on a diet then.”

He watched Luke set his jaw, sighing heavily through his nose as he tried to focus on the programme playing on the screen.

“Who do you prefer: Jared Leto or Joaquin Phoenix as they joker-“

“What the fuck are you trying to achieve here, Calum?” He snapped, running a hand grouch his long hair and avoiding the amused gaze of Calum.

“Just trying to figure out what has your knickers in a twist, Lucas. You barely spoke when I came back from the bathroom at Y/N’s last night and now you’re the single syllable king. What’s up your ass?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you realised anything was wrong, considering you were too busy being all over Y/N last night,” Luke snapped, still avoiding looking at Calum. He was far too annoyed.

A chuckle fell from the Brunets’ lips as he rested back against the arm of the lounge, still locking his gaze on Luke. “I knew it. I thought you saw me hug Y/N last night. That makes perfect sense now; you’re jealous.”

The smirk on Calum’s face made Luke want to smack it off.

“I’m not jealous-“

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not-“

“Bullshit.” Calum clapped his hands twice, finding the situation amusing. “When are you going to get it through your pretty skull that you have feelings for her?”

“Because I don’t!” Luke’s voice was harsher than he intended. He didn’t have feelings for Y/N. He couldn’t. It would just complicate things more.

He didn’t have feelings for her, he was sure of it. So what if sometimes he couldn’t stop looking at her. Or sometimes he couldn’t get her off of his mind, or couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing she is. So what if sometimes he wanted to kiss her, and hold her, and call her his.

There was a beat of silence. Amusement for Calum, shocking realization for Luke.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

“There it is,” Calum smirked again, watching as Luke slumped, his face in both hands. “Do you have any idea how crazy she is for you? I was with her last night because she was upset. Every time you find a new girl, she gets more upset. She tried to tell you how she felt, she’s tried many times-“

“But I always brush it off as platonic feelings,” the words came out in a groan, his heart sinking into his stomach at the thought of how Y/N felt all of those times where he brushed off her admissions with an utterance of the words “pal” or “mate”.

Calum sighed. He wanted nothing more than for the two to finally dispose of the overwhelming tension between them.

“Look, you were jealous seeing me hug her last night, yeah?” Luke nodded, eyes downcast in thought. “Well, mate, I think it’s time you tell her you love her, before somebody else does. She can’t wait around for you forever.”

The words acted as a spark, igniting something inside of Luke, causing him to rush out of the door in just his tracksuit pants, shoes and with his keys in hand. He hadn’t considered changing out of his pajamas, his mind was focused on one thing.

He made his way to Y/N’s house in quick time, mine already made up. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t let his own ignorance get in the way of what Calum helped him realise. He was jealous because he wants her to be his. He was wants to be able to hold her and take away her pain. He wants to feel her lips on his. He wants to tell her the three words that have often been on his lips before.

The minute her front door was in sight, his knuckles were making contact. Three short and fast rasps, alerting her to his presence in the same way he had for the entirety of their friendship.

She pulled the door open with a small smile, her eyes were weary and she looked as if she had nor long woken up.

He didn’t give himself a chance to dispute his actions, his hands made purchase on each side of her face and his lips connected with hers in the most delicate way he knew how, hesitating and waiting for any sign of disapproval.

When it didn’t come, he melted into her touch, feeling her hands rest against his exposed chest.

He pulled back for a second, taking in air. “I should have done that a long time ago. I’m so sorry I’m an idiot.”

Y/N chuckled softly, voice gravelly from sleep and the lack of use, “Yeah, you are an idiot.”

She connected her lips with his again, a short peck. “The best idiot.”

He led her into her house backwards, kicking the door shut with his foot and connecting his lips with hers once again.

Tag List: @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @mantlereid @starshonerose @another-lonely-heart

[cruelangelstheses]

the whirlwind girl

fandom: six of crows rating: T characters: inej, nina words: 2.1k additional tags: modern au with magic, first meetings, sexual harassment, could be read as platonic or romantic description: when a drunk man hits on inej at a bar, a stranger comes to her rescue. a/n: HIIII i wrote this for the @sixofcrowszine which has now been shipped so i can post!!! i don’t have much to say except that this book absolutely enraptured me and i love nina and inej and their interactions with each other so !! girls <3 inspired by that prompt that’s like “you were being hit on at a bar so i pretended to be your partner to get them to go away”

read it on ao3

—

Inej isn’t sure why she’s even here.

She’s never been a fan of clubs or bars or similar establishments, especially not at night—too loud, bursting full with people whose inhibitions are hindered by alcohol. Besides, she’s just finished performing, and while the roar of a crowd cheering for her is much different from a bunch of random drunks, it still counts as being around people, and it drains her just the same. She prefers to spend her evenings curled up with a book or hanging out with a couple of close friends, not out late partying.

The whole reason she even came into the Crow Club in the first place is because she knows someone who works here, a funny and good-natured—if reckless—young man named Jesper, who spends about the same amount of time gambling during his off-hours as he does bartending during his shifts. Unfortunately for Inej, it turns out that Jesper, for once in his life, actually isn’t here tonight, even though he’s always here on Saturday nights. According to the current bartender, a slightly older man that Inej doesn’t recognize, he’s on a date, of all things, with a boy named Wylan. Perhaps she’ll text him about it later and ask how it went.

She’s happy for him, of course, but this also means that she has no business being at the Crow Club, so now she’s sitting awkwardly at the bar with a virgin pina colada in hand. She rarely drinks alcohol; she always needs to feel sharp, like the edge of a fresh blade. She knows she could just pay and leave, but it feels weird; she just got here. Maybe she’ll sit and people-watch for another ten or fifteen minutes, then slip out.

As this thought crosses her mind, Inej watches as a stocky, sweaty-looking man, already clearly inebriated, enters the casino...and immediately plops down onto the empty barstool beside her.

Inej takes a sip of her drink and stares down into the glass, pretending to be incredibly interested in its contents, but it does nothing to stop the man from leaning over and saying, “Saw your performance.” His breath smells of cheap whiskey, and Inej has to stop herself from wrinkling her nose.

“Did you, now?” she says without looking at him. Inej works the same job she’s always worked: she performs with her parents as a small troupe of traveling acrobats. Despite their occupation being somewhat unconventional in this day and age—circuses and such just don’t get as much traction as they used to—they manage fairly well. Besides, Inej lives for the thrill of the high wire.

“I did,” the man replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him grinning like a wild dog. “Impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” Inej drums her fingernails nervously against the glass and takes another sip. She can feel her butterfly knife up against her hip, but using it might get her kicked out of the Crow Club—which wouldn’t be a huge loss, really, except that she’d hardly ever get to see Jesper. She already doesn’t see him very often since she travels so much. Or maybe pulling a knife on a guy wouldn’t make a difference here; it’s far from the nicest place in Ketterdam, and Ketterdam is far from the nicest city in Kerch.

Unexpectedly, the man slings an arm around Inej’s shoulders. “What do you say to showing me a few more tricks, hmm?”

This is why Inej doesn’t like bars.

“Um.” She clears her throat, squirming slightly. “No, thank you. Uh, my parents wouldn’t be pleased.”

The man licks his lips. His eyes gleam with bad intentions. “Who says your parents have to know, huh?”

Before Inej can say or do anything else, a brown-haired whirlwind of a girl she’s never seen before marches up to them and says in Kerch, “Hey! Hands off my girlfriend!”

Inej can feel her face heating up. Either this girl has the wrong person, or she knows exactly what she’s doing.

The man narrows his eyes in confusion and reluctantly pulls his arm away from Inej. The girl, pale and curvaceous with bright green eyes, puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head in disbelief. “Honestly. I leave for five minutes to go to the bathroom and come back to find that someone thinks he can just put his hands all over her. I mean, have some damn respect!” At that, she points an accusatory finger at the man.

Alright. It’s definitely the latter.

“I, uh, didn’t realize she was taken,” he says as he looks the girl up and down. “But hey,” he adds with a sly grin, “the more the merrier, right?”

The girl groans. “Classic,” she mutters under her breath. Putting a hand on the man’s upper arm, she leans in and says, quiet but firm, “We’re not interested.”

The man’s eyelids start to droop. Then, a second later, he passes out face-first onto the counter. A few people turn to look in their direction, and the girl feigns concern, gesturing helplessly to the man. “I think he had too much to drink,” she says, which is probably true, to be fair. One of the bouncers sighs and wanders over to grab him.

Inej watches them in silence. It’s not until the bouncer and the unconscious man are completely out of earshot that she turns to the girl that rescued her and says, not unkindly, “You’re a Heartrender.”

The girl hops up onto the barstool previously inhabited by the drunk man. “That I am,” she says quietly, so as not to be heard by the wrong set of ears. Suddenly she’s speaking in perfect Suli instead of Kerch, perhaps to make Inej more comfortable. “But more importantly, I’m the girl who just saved your ass.” She shrugs. “I thought maybe I could get him to leave you alone without having to use my power, but then he got creepier, so I just kind of said ‘fuck it’ and lowered his heart rate enough to make him pass out.”

Inej laughs a little at that. “I bet that’s useful,” she replies.

“Oh, yeah,” the girl agrees, “but I’m also persecuted for it, so...you win some, you lose some, I guess.” She says it casually, but Inej can hear the bitterness behind it.

Inej isn’t a Grisha, but she is Suli, and she knows well the feeling of persecution. “I understand,” she says softly. “And...thank you.” She could’ve handled it—at least, that’s what she tells herself—but she appreciates the gesture, more than she can properly express.

“It’s nothing,” the girl replies, but the faint pink in her cheeks tells a different story. “I have a lot of experience dealing with men like that. I figured I might as well help you out.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Not that I don’t think you could’ve handled it yourself, but…”

Inej shakes her head in understanding. “No, I get it,” she says. “I’m good with a knife, but I didn’t want to use it unless I felt like I had to.”

The girl’s eyes gleam with interest at that. “Nice. Oh!” she says, looking as though she just remembered something important. “I just realized I never even introduced myself. I’m Nina. You’re Inej, right? Inej Ghafa? I know you from your performances. I’ve seen some videos of you and your family online.”

“Really?” Inej says. For some reason, it still surprises her whenever people tell her that they know her from the internet. She didn’t think her family was that popular.

“Of course,” Nina replies. “You guys are really phenomenal.”

Before Inej can come up with an appropriate response to the compliment, she feels her phone buzzing in her pocket. Pulling it out, she chuckles at the name displayed: Mama. “Speaking of my family,” she says to Nina. “Let’s see if I can even hear her over all this Saints-forsaken noise.”

Nina crosses her fingers in support as Inej answers the phone and puts it up to her ear. “Hello?”

On the other end, she can just faintly hear her mother asking her where she is.

“I’m at the Crow Club, Mama,” she says. “I was looking for Jesper, but he’s not here, so I’m coming back to the room now.”

Seemingly satisfied with that response, her mother wishes her safety on the walk back to the hotel and hangs up.

“Sorry,” she says to Nina, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “I should probably be going. I was planning on leaving soon anyway when that guy came over.”

“That’s okay,” Nina says, hopping off the barstool. “I was thinking of heading out soon, too.”

Inej sets some kruge down on the counter for the bartender, then follows Nina out the door and into the cool night air.

“Hey,” Nina says as they stand outside the club, watching cars go by. “Would you want to—I don’t know—keep in touch?” She blushes as she says it, which doesn’t seem standard for her. “I know we didn’t talk for long, but I’m not from Kerch, so I don’t have many friends here, and you seem like a really cool person. I know you travel a lot, but…” She trails off and shrugs.

There’s still that part of Inej that warns her to exercise caution, that just because Nina helped her once doesn’t mean she’s “safe” yet. Deep down, though, Inej can feel the goodness in her. She saw a stranger in trouble and immediately leapt to her defense, even though it could’ve ended badly, even though she could’ve exposed herself as a Grisha in a potentially hostile environment. The least Inej can do is allow herself to trust her, just a little, just enough.

“That would be nice,” Inej says, pulling her phone back out. “I can give you my phone number, and you can give me yours.”

Nina’s face lights up, and Inej knows that this is the right decision. “Great!”

They exchange phones and plug their names and numbers into each other’s contact lists. When Inej gets her phone back, she sees that Nina’s surname is Zenik. It flows nicely, like a stream unobstructed by rocks or logs: Nina Zenik. Nina Zenik.

“Hmm.” Nina taps her chin thoughtfully. “I was going to offer to walk you back to wherever you’re staying, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m mothering you or think you can’t handle yourself. But it’s also a late night in Ketterdam, and that’s dangerous for anyone, let alone a young woman walking by herself. Me as well as you.”

Inej would be lying if she said she didn’t feel at least a twinge of anxiety walking the streets of Ketterdam alone at night. Staring down at the new number in her contacts, an idea presents itself to her.

“We could talk on the phone as we walk back to our places,” she says. “That way you can make sure that I’m safe, and I can make sure that you’re safe. Then, if something were to happen to one of us, the other one would know.”

A flash of what looks like relief crosses Nina’s face before she quickly covers it up. “Good idea.”

Nina’s apartment is, of course, in the opposite direction of Inej’s hotel, so they go their separate ways until they’re out of each others’ earshot, and then Inej calls Nina.

“Wow, I haven’t heard from you in forever,” Nina says.

Inej laughs. “I know. Such an agonizingly long thirty seconds.”

It takes Inej about fifteen minutes to walk to the hotel, during which she learns that the reason Nina is in Ketterdam is because she’s studying abroad for a semester, and that she’s currently attending Os Alta University to be a translator. She tells Inej funny college stories, and Inej tells her crazy stories about her travels in return. Strangely enough, Nina’s voice actually grounds her rather than distracts her. It keeps her mind in the moment so that she never has a chance to get lost in her own head. She doesn’t usually let her mind drift when she’s out and about in a large city, but with Nina, the odds are even lower. It’s comforting. Her voice is a guiding light.

Nina arrives at her apartment first, but she stays on the line with Inej, who reaches the hotel about five minutes later. Standing outside the front doors, Inej promises to keep in touch with the whirlwind girl who bounced into her life so suddenly less than an hour ago. When they finally hang up, her chest feels light.

[bibliothesoph]

How about a first prince flower shop AU? Alex and Henry own flower shops on the same street and have a competition on whose shop is the best.

the war of the roses

Alex knows that he’s hot––he uses it to his advantage. If there’s a hot guy or girl that walks in, all he has to do is bat his eyes and, like magic, they buy something. Sometimes, if they’re especially beautiful, he gives them a free flower––usually a white camellia if he’s got them in stock. It does wonders for the business, really, so June never says anything about the free flowers. They’ve got a good system going, the two of them. He’s the face of the shop. He greets customers, answers any questions they might have, and checks them out (both literally and metaphorically). June’s the one who usually does the arrangements because she’s better with the whole color thing, but Alex is the one who knows the meaning of each flower like the back of his hand. When they do specials for what they like to call “The Power of the Flower,” he picks out the flowers with the important meanings and June decides which ones actually look good together.

Since it’s the first few weeks of summer, one of their “The Power of the Flower” specials is happening right now as a way to welcome in the new season and the warmth and happiness that comes with it. Usually, in the summertime, most of the arrangements they get are for happier feelings like love or excitement or, on occasion, a proposal. They get a few requests for some really great “fuck you” arrangements that Alex always enjoys because of the irony––why send flowers, even mean ones, to someone you supposedly hate? The idea is ridiculous and he loves it.

Historically, they’ve been the only flower shop in this area. It’s a hipster sort of place and, since all of their flowers are pretty local and sustainably farmed or whatever, people flock here to get succulents and arrangements. They’ve made bank here for the past three years until The Incident, that is.

Alex refuses to actually say the name of it out loud because it makes his blood boil. That fucking blond-haired dude and his friend (well, the friend seems okay) and their fucking flower shop. Like, when someone opens up a business, Alex thinks they should probably scope out the area first to make sure there aren’t any competitors in the area or something. That seems like the smart thing to do. But this bastard with blue eyes and a perfect fucking smile came in and set up shop directly across the street from his own flower shop. And he knows that the Green House has loyal customers like Ted and Ginger and Simon. And he knows that they’ve been here longer and therefore are generally the first place to pop into people’s minds when they want flowers, but since the other store is directly across the street, it steals customers away sometimes.

Like today, for example.

And the worst part is that Alex can see that smug bastard’s pretty face while he’s stabbing Alex in the fucking back. Whenever Alex looks out the window to see how things are going across the street, the blond guy is always there with an evil, smug smile and a sarcastic wave. Like this is all some fucking joke to him.

Well, Alex isn’t having it anymore. Not during The Power of the Flower time.

“June,” he groans from the front desk. The place is empty, save for the two of them.

She pops her head out from the back area where she makes the arrangements. “Please don’t tell me you’re staring at Henry again.”

His face contorts. “Who the fuck is Henry?”

She rolls her eyes and comes over to him, wrapping her arms around him to calm him. “The guy from the V&A. The one you keep staring at.”

Alex huffs. “He started it. Anyway, we need a plan of attack. He’s stealing our customers!”

“He’s not––”

“He’s stealing them, June. Along with my fucking sanity.”

June sighs and looks out the window, waving at Henry. “He seems perfectly nice. I know his partner, Pez, is a nice guy. I walked in a––”

Alex gasps in horror. “You went in? Judas!”

“I just went in to see how they were running things,” June explains. “And they serve tea, you know. They make it themselves.”

Alex growls and slams his fist against the counter. “Unbelievable. Well, that fucking settles it.”

He stomps off and into the backroom to collect his thoughts with June close at his heels.

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out a plan of attack,” he explains, pulling out a pen and paper. “We need to up our game, Bug. We can’t let them win.”

“It’s not a competition!”

“It is now.”

He decides to bravely and calmly storm across the street to check out the competition, just to see what they have going on. As soon as he opens the door, a bell rings to announce his entrance. When he steps into the place with steam practically coming out of his ears, a guy that is not the blond one––so Pez, probably––greets him with a smile. He’s wearing flowy pants and, more importantly, a fucking V&A shirt that looks hand-stitched. He’s even got little flowers painted on his cheeks and a flower crown on his head.

“Hi,” he beams at Alex. He’s British, it seems. “Welcome to the V&A! My name’s Pez, so just give me a shout if you need anything, okay, darling?”

Alex fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not a customer, actually,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh? Are you here for me then?” Pez asks, batting his eyes and smiling.

“I’m here to speak to the owner. Blond? Bland?”

Pez raises an eyebrow at him. “Henry?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Can I talk to him please?”

“If the issue is that he never called you back, I––”

“He’s not a suitor, Pez,” another voice says from behind Alex. Alex turns and sees, in all his fucking glory, Henry. He’s wearing the same shirt Pez is wearing but neatly tucked into a pair of snug jeans. His hair looks fucking perfect somehow, and he’s carrying a tray of what looks like baked goods. “In fact, I think he might think us enemies.”

“No shit,” Alex huffs. “You’re stealing my customers!”

Henry rolls his eyes but he’s smiling like this is all hilarious. “Oh, am I?”

Alex is fucking fuming. “Yeah! You knew we were right across the street. Literally. I can actually fucking see your smug face when I’m working and I hate it.”

Henry sighs and moves past him.

Their shoulders knock together.

Alex follows Henry and watches as he sets the tray down on the old, wooden counter. He starts taking the treats off the tray and carefully moves them to some sort of ornate platter.

“You serve food now, too?” Alex asks.

“Not always,” Henry explains, “only when I bake. I feel that it adds a special something to the experience, you know?”

Alex is practically seething. “Okay, well, I just wanted to come over here to say fuck you, fuck your stupid store, and fuck your fucking pastries.”

Henry raises his fucking perfectly manicured eyebrows in surprise. “I hardly think that seems appropriate. We’re not enemies, Alex. We just both happen to own stores on the same street.”

Alex shakes his head so violently that it hurts a little bit. “No, no, no. You opened this store up directly across the street from mine. And you made it the exact same kind of store. What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, man? It’s not cool. Okay, also, how the fuck did you know my name?”

Henry has the fucking audacity to touch Alex’s chest. Alex opens his mouth to say something but Henry beats him to it.

“Nametag,” he says with a smug smile. Alex looks down and sees that, sure enough, Henry is poking the name tag on his apron.

Alex slaps Henry’s hand away. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Coming here, doing your fucking––whatever the fuck you’re doing––and messing with my business? I’ll make you regret you ever touched a flower, okay?”

Before Henry has the chance to respond, Alex stomps out of the shop. In his rage, he fumbles to get the door open. Pez helps him out and opens it for him so he can continue to rage-stomp out of the stupid fucking shop and away from Henry’s stupid fucking face.

So Alex does what he does best: he makes a list.

Things the V&A does that we don’t do:

1. Tea (fucking homemade tea. Those fuckers)

2. Flowers based on your personality

3. Free baked goods for some fucking reason

4. Terrariums

He wonders, vacantly, if they’re even a real fucking flower shop. With the amount of random drinks and foods that seem to float through their shop, Alex thinks they might be more of a fucking general store or café. But, since he’s determined to beat them, he’ll play along. He can’t bake for shit, but he gets the fixings for coffee––including fucking organic flavor syrup. June helps him set up some little spiritual packages––little kits including crystals and special plants for different purposes. He’ll be damned if he lets the people from across the street steal their customers.

A day after they implement the little spiritual kits, he finds a package outside the door as he’s coming in for the day. Curious, he picks it up and takes it inside. They never get packages here––only deliveries from farmers who come in and make the drop off in person. He takes it inside and places it on the desk, staring at it for a moment before he decides that, even though the only thing written on it is his name, he’s going to open it.

Inside is a collection of assorted items. There are some pink scones, some packages of loose leaf tea, and a bundle of chamomiles. The chamomiles are really what set Alex off and make him know exactly who fucking gave this to him.

Chamomiles. Patience in adversity.

Alex is going to kill him.

He stomps into the V&A for the second time and marches right up to Henry who’s behind the desk, seemingly setting the register up for the day.

Henry looks surprised to see him which only makes Alex even more pissed off. “We’re not open yet,” Henry tells him, sounding bored. “But we’ll be open in thirty minutes if you’d like to come back then.”

Alex slams his fist onto the counter. In his hand is a bouquet of assorted flowers––crab blossoms, petunias, red dahlias, and rhododendrons. The bouquet is, most simply, an “I hate you” and “go fuck yourself” arrangement. The colors might not work well together, but Alex is so beyond caring at this point.

Henry eyes the flowers for a moment, probably trying to recognize and place them each in his mind. For some reason, the angry flowers make him smile. “Are these for me?”

“Obviously,” Alex huffs, releasing his hold of them and taking a step back.

Henry picks them up and looks at them for a moment. “And you made this?”

Alex nods, not really sure what’s going on here.

Henry sighs. “Well, if you’d ever like lessons on how to make a proper arrangement, please let me know.”

Alex glares at him. His heart feels like it’s thumping in his fucking ears. “What.”

“We offer workshops, you know. We get some nice wine and teach people how to put flowers together properly. Given what I see here, you lack the proper eye for this sort of thing. While I understand the intent, I have to say that I’m a bit disappointed with the execution of it. Since you own your own shop, I would have expected something…better, I suppose. It’s no wonder you think we’re stealing your customers––they must just be appalled by your work.”

Alex grits his teeth and gets close to Henry, staring him down. “Go fuck yourself,” he seethes.

He rushes out again, furious. He needs a better plan––something that will make this all go away. He needs a plan that will make Henry run for the fucking hills.

June helps him make it, though she seems hesitant. It takes about a day of looking through flower meanings and consulting with June to get it done, but when it’s done, it’s fucking perfect. It’s a large, obnoxious arrangement filled with hate flowers and plants that he hopes will make Henry really get the message. It’s beautiful but vile and Alex has never been more satisfied with his work. He leaves the arrangement outside the doors of the V&A before he goes home for the day, excited to see what Henry’s reaction will be the next morning.

When he’s on his way to work the next morning––running a bit late––he gets a call from June. He picks up, hoping it’s not something bad. He might slap himself if he forgot to lock up again.

“You took it too far,” she tells him.

He stops walking. “What?”

It sounds almost like she’s crying. Or, at least, someone’s crying. “The thing with Henry,” she explains. “I get the arrangement, okay? It’s all in good fun. But doing that to his store…”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alex says truthfully.

He rounds the corner onto the street where his shop is and sees it almost immediately. Out front is his arrangement, right where he left it, but it’s surrounded by broken glass. The sign for Henry’s shop has been painted over in slurs. What looks like a rock or a brick has been thrown through the window. He can’t stop staring at it––staring at the terrible words that someone’s written about Henry on the sign. He hangs up on June and rushes inside the Green House, finding Henry and Pez there, too. It looks like June has given them both blankets and some of that tea they sent over a few days ago. And they do not look happy to see Alex.

“Alex,” June says, pulling him aside as soon as he enters, “why would you do that?”

“Bug, I swear,” he says, “it wasn’t me, okay? I––I would never write that kind of stuff, you know that. I didn’t even know he was gay.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes. “Look, they think you’re the one that did it. You shouldn’t be here, okay? Even if it’s not your fault, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Just…go home, okay?”

The look she shoots him seems final so Alex leaves. He doesn’t want to make this any worse for Henry but…he feels terrible. Even though he’s not the one that did it, he still feels like shit about it. So he doesn’t sleep that night, instead, he's trying to figure out what he can do to help.

He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about Henry. It makes no sense for him to be this upset about Henry because, as he’s told Henry to his face, he hates him. He hates Henry’s stupid face and his hair and his fucking cute shop. Maybe what he hates most, though, is that he can’t stop fucking thinking about him. It’s ridiculous how much Henry has filled his mind lately. Henry, even as an enemy, is all he’s been able to think about since this whole thing started. And it’s driving him insane and he feels like he’s drowning because Henry’s upset and there’s not a single fucking thing he can do about it.

But he can try.

When he comes in the next morning, Henry is still there. He’s sitting in the backroom and looking blankly at the wall like there’s something really interesting there. Alex sighs and sits down next to him. Henry visibly stiffens.

“Hey,” Alex says.

Henry scoffs. “‘Hey?’ Is that all you have to say to me?”

Nervous, Alex fiddles with his fingers. “No. I mean…I don’t even know what to say."

“I think you’ve said enough,” Henry says. “I wasn’t trying to steal your customers and, even if I was and even if you hated me for it, that’s no reason for you to…you wrote awful things. Vile things, Alex. Things that no one should ever have to hear.”

“I didn’t do that to your shop,” Alex explains. “I swear. But I’m still sorry. And I…for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you at all.”

This makes Henry look over at him, obviously confused. “I thought––”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckles. “Me too, honestly. But I––you can hate me forever if you want. And I’m really fucking sorry that happened to your store because you don’t deserve it, but I want to help.”

He pulls an envelope out of his pocket. Henry takes it with shaking hands and opens it to reveal, first, a white tulip, then a wad of cash. “Alex…”

“The white tulip means new beginnings,” Alex explains, just in case Henry doesn’t already know. “And the money is for whatever you want. Awning, a window, whatever.”

“Love,” Henry whispers.

Alex raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Henry looks over at him with big red eyes. “The white tulip,” he says, swallowing a lump in his throat, “also means love. It’s…it’s romantic.”

Alex feels his face turn bright red. He rubs the back of his neck. “Like I said,” he whispers, staring into Henry’s eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

Henry’s lips tug up in the corners for a moment before he moves forward, closing the distance between them. Henry’s lips are soft on his own and Alex can’t help but melt into it. His hands instantly find their way to Henry’s hair which is softer than he imagined it to be. Henry’s free hand wraps around Alex’s waist, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss. The whole thing is making Alex feel like he’s being set on fire in the best way possible.

They pull back for a moment, staring at each other. Alex takes Henry’s face in his hands, rubbing his jaw with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry about your store.”

“It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know but…we’ll fix it, okay? Together.”

Henry stares at him for a moment, those blue eyes making Alex’s body tingle. “You mean that?”

Alex nods and kisses him quickly again. “‘Course I do. I know we made good enemies but I’ve got a feeling that we’ll make even better partners.”

A week later, Henry’s store is fixed and in full swing again. On his way to work, Alex stops by just to see how Henry’s doing. When he walks in, Henry puts down the arrangement he’s working on and rushes over, wrapping his arms around Alex and kissing him.

“Good morning, love,” Henry beams in the small space between their lips.

Alex smiles and kisses him again. “Morning, handsome. How goes the store?”

“Fantastic, actually. We’re getting more customers than ever, thanks to you.”

Alex rolls his eyes and shoves him playfully. “It’s not all because of me,” he argues. “I think you underestimate the power of your pretty face.”

Henry smiles again and kisses him once more.

The two stores may still be across the street from each other, but you’d have no idea they were once owned by two sets of different people. Marking the space between them is a road of chalk-drawn flowers, inviting you to step inside either one. If you go into the Green House, you’ll find flowers for every occasion and a variety of healing crystals and succulents. If you go into the V&A, you’ll find sweet treats, delicious beverages, and, their newest edition, little dogs made of wire and covered in flowers available for purchase.

Even though two of the owners, the blond one and the short one with a mess of curls, work in different shops, you can see the way they look at each other through the glass––lovesick smiles on both of their faces.

Yeah, Alex thinks he might ask June if he can switch with Pez soon.

[grimmarray]

Soulmate sanctuary~

Guh, definitely pulled some shit out of my ass with this one, but when I found an absolutely adorable OT3 (check the lovely art I found by @queenofliz4rds out here Thank you for putting an OT3 on my dash that I TOTALLY SHIP NOW)I had to write something cause holy shit, it’s cute. But first...

**There are minor spoilers for Chapter 195**

Without further ado...

Pairing: SeroKamiShin Soulmate AU: Soulmate marks Words: 2943

“It’s gotta be a fluke,” Sero frowned as Kaminari showed him the purple swirl that adorned his shoulder. He looked at the little yellow bolt that sat in the middle of his palm, and sighed, “There is no way,” “No fluke dude, I swear I won’t cheat or anything, your my soulmate, period,” Kaminari told him frantically, he had wanted to share his second mark since they first got together, but he’d been a bit scared to.

Having two marks appear on his tenth birthday had been an absolute shock to him, so he took to hiding the one and only showing people the one he really couldn’t hide, the jet black circle that sat in his left palm. While soulmate marks on hands were common, his had been so plain that it made it hard to place. So he’d resorted to becoming an unabashed flirt to compensate for his unending insecurity over finding a soulmate. The second mark was less ambiguous but he’d never met anyone who really ‘fit’ so he never mentioned it either.

“Nah man,” Sero broke him out of his reverie, “I’m actually not that worried, since I actually have another one too,” “You what?!” Kaminari gasped, “What the heck, show me!” he jumped off his bed excitedly and then paled a bit as Sero started undoing his belt. Sero only laughed “Relax, it’s on my hip, I ain’t stripping the whole way unless you really want me to,” Kaminari only blushed and looked elsewhere. Sero laughed again and took his pants off, and pushing the hem of his boxers up just enough to show Kaminari the patch of purple with two stars cut out of it. “Yours sure is easy to hide,” Kaminari pouted, “And put your pants back on!” he added hastily. “What? Afraid someone is going to barge in and think badly of us,” Sero grinned fiendishly. “YES!” Kaminari cried, “We’ve had this conversation,” “We have,” Sero affirmed, pulling his pants back on, “I’m teasing you because it’s fun and you turn such a pretty pink when your embarrassed,” “And people think I’M the tease in this relationship,” Kaminari through his hands up, though Sero caught one of them and kissed it before twining their fingers together. “I think we may not need to worry too much about cheating,” Sero smiled, “Though that all depends on how our other soulmate thinks of this,” “You think both our marks belong to the same person?” Kaminari leaned into Sero. “I do,” Sero nodded, “call it a hunch,”

“I know you said you weren’t interested in making friends, but I like you, dude,” Kaminari nodded at Shinsou as their team readied to take on the class-B team again. Through a few risky moves and some creative thinking, they managed to pull ahead and win the challenge.

“Are you okay?” Shinsou glanced back at Kaminari as they headed back to the viewing platform and get their results. “Whe- ‘m fine, just a bit fried,” He shook his head a bit, trying hard to make the words come out instead of the weird exaggerated laughing sounds he devolved into usually. Shinsou only looked half convinced, but left it alone.

 At the end of the day everyone was exhausted, and made their way together to the change rooms talking about the battles of the day. Kaminari patted Sero on the back and pointed out a rather slogging Shinsou. “Hey! That last fight was awesome!” Kaminari made his way over and slung and arm over Shinsou’s shoulders earning an annoyed groan. “To think they’d pit you up against Midoriya again,” Sero added, moving in on the other side of him. “It was random chance,” Shinsou sighed, “and in the end it was as much of a surprise as the last time we fought,” “You sure held your own though,” Kaminari smiled brightly, “I can’t wait for you to train with us for real,” “Whose to say I’ll end up in your class,” Shinsou diverted. “Well duh, Aizawa is your mentor right, so it only makes sense you’d get into class 1-A,” Kaminari reasoned, “Anyway, I’m ready for a nap, how bout you guys?” “We have class after this,” Sero reminded him. “Yeah, we have history,” Kaminari shrugged, “It’s so boring, and it’s not like it’s that important right?” Shinsou and Sero traded a look before they reached the locker room.

Kaminari’s eyes didn’t mean to wander, but having a new person to look at made him curious. He always loved admiring others, people were so different in such neat ways, like the way Kirishima was broad, next to Bakugou who was arguably just as strong, but so much leaner. Like the way Sero’s height only did justice to his physique, though Kaminari bet he’d been even more lanky when he first hit his growth spurt. Shinsou was toned, there was no doubt about that, his side training had seen to that, but he definitely wasn’t as muscular as the other guys. Kaminari stared a little longer until Shinsou turned slightly to put something in his bag and that’s when he saw it.

A yellow shape, right where Kaminari knew his own odd soul-mark lay. He gasped and just about tripped over himself to go look at it. At the last second a hand shot out and grabbed him. It was Sero, who had cleary seen what he’d seen. He mouthed ‘not now before pushing Kaminari back to his locker.

 “Why did you stop me?” Kaminari asked later after their classes had ended. Sero frowned, thinking carefully before answering, “I didn’t want to scare him away,” “And?” Kaminari frowned, knowing Sero wasn’t just thinking about his boisterous personality. “It’s a little harder to see if he has a mark that matches mine,” Kaminari gaped, “I’m such a selfish idiot,” he groaned and threw his arms around his boyfriend, “I told you I wouldn’t cheat, how do you think we should figure things out?” “Well we could just ASK?” Sero pointed out. “Oh yeah, that will go over well, ‘hey Shinsou, do you have a mark on your hip and if so can we see it?’” Kaminari waved an arm dramatically before planting it on his own hip. Sero rolled his eyes, “Well you already know he has one on his shoulder, so we could just start with if he has two,” “Or that, that is actually smart,” Kaminari grumbled, “Yup, looks like I’m always gonna be the idiot boyfriend,” “You’ll always be the pretty boyfriend,” Sero smiled gently, brushing Kaminari’s hair away from his face, planting a kiss on his forehead, “And that won’t change no matter who joins us,” “I dunno, Shinsou is kinda pretty,” Kaminari smirked. “Oookay, and what does that make me?” Sero faked a frown. “Handsome,” Kaminari said without missing a beat, “You’re handsome, definitely,”

 Shinsou made it very hard to talk to him, always ducking out quickly at the end of training and generally avoiding conversation while he was around, sticking by his whole ‘not making friends’ promise. Kaminari slowly got more and more impatient, sulking every time he couldn’t catch him after training when he was around. It got to the point where he began sneaking around during training and trying to zap the other guy just long enough to grab him and ask. Sero on the other hand was much more patient, which paid off in the end as Aizawa talked about helping Shinsou practice his mobility, “Yo sensei, let me try, my tape is pretty similar to that capture scarf,” “In some ways,” Aizawa considered it, “You do excel in this particular area, so I’ll allow it this time,” “Thank you for your offer, I think I can learn a lot from you,” Shinsou nodded thoughtfully, then once Aizawa had walked away to direct other students he added, “And maybe you can tell me why your boyfriend has been following me around?” “Ah, so you have noticed, not that he’s particularly subtle about it,” Sero shrugged, “He’s pretty interested in getting to know you,” “Is that all?” Shinsou narrowed his eyes. “Yes actually, now come on and lets see what you’ve got,” Sero nodded striding off towards the industrial area of the grounds, “We’re gonna have a little race, nothing too long, just a little kick off so I can see how you measure up,” “That seems like a rather inefficient way to test me if you can’t watch what I’m doing,” Shinsou raised a questioning eyebrow Sero only smiled, “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that, now on three, try to get to the top of that water tower as fast as you can, Three!” he shouted and leaped off, hearing a shout of protest behind him.

“Mhmm, That was impressive, but you have a lot to polish there,” Sero shook his head as Shinsou glared at him from where he stood. “I couldn’t help but notice how you avoided me the whole time,” Shinsou grumbled. “Couldn’t have you copying me outright,” Sero shrugged, “Besides, where is the fun in that?” “I don’t see the point,” “The point is I see how you function independently, when your not vying for holds with another hero,” Sero pointed out, “You really don’t know where to latch onto, do you?” Shinsou kept the glare up for a few more seconds before relaxing, “Enlighten me,”

The after noon was spent showing Shinsou good places to grab for, better places and the worst places. Sero seemed to amuse himself by watching Shinsou fall on his ass before pointing out the latter. “Okay, I think you’ve about got that,” Sero nodded after Shinsou navigated one of the harder patches of the course, “Can I ask you something?” “About?” Shinsou glanced over. “You,” Sero folded his arms, “Do you have soul-marks?” “I…wait, marks, as in plural,” Shinsou fished through the words, “Regardless, isn’t that a little personal?” “It is, which is why I chose to ask where no one is likely to stumble upon us,” Sero waved his arm around at the relatively inaccessible rooftop he’d led them to, “And yes, I did pluralize, I in fact have two,” The admission seemed to surprise Shinsou, even if he seemed to try hiding his reaction, which told Sero that perhaps he was onto something. “It’s incredibly unlikely to have two,” he deflected. “Supposedly, but surprisingly, both Kaminari and I are both the same,” “I suppose they all match?” Shinsou seemed to close up. “Nope, only one pair of them match,” he held up his left hand to show Shinsou, “I have another, but it’s in a rather inconvenient location, so I can’t really show you,” Shinsous’ eyes made a definite flick towards his hip and he was suddenly looking as if he could jump off the rooftop at a moments notice, so Sero decided to wrap up the conversation. “Either way, something to think about I suppose,” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, “Want to head back, show Aizawa your new moves?” Shinsou only had to nod before Sero took off, letting Shinsou follow him more closely this time.

 While Kaminari was disappointed in the uncertain outcome, he took Sero’s musings happily, ceasing his not so stealthy stalking during training.

 “It’s been months,” Kaminari whined. “Believe me, I know,” Sero grumbled, “He only just got into the Hero course, so he’ll finally be around more often,” “So? All that does is make it harder for him to avoid us,” Kaminari groaned dramatically. “As far as I understand he wasn’t actually avoiding you, he’s been busy trying to play catch up, the general studies course lacks a lot of what the hero course offers apparently.” Sero rationalized. “I don’t carrrrre!” Kaminari whined, “I want to talk to him…”

A knocking came from the door and both boys looked towards the door, “Come in?” Sero called out wondering who would actually knock on his door instead of barging in like usual. The door opened slowly and a disheveled head poked in, “Thanks for making me look like an idiot, knocking at an empty room,” Shinsou admonished before stepping inside and shutting the door, “I do have two,” “I guessed that months ago,” Sero rolled his eyes, “Go on, I won’t steal your thunder,” “Is he always this sarcastic?” Shinsou asked Kaminari. “You get used to it,” Kaminari shrugged, “So you were saying, I’m an idiot, so feel free to spell it out,” “What am I getting myself into,” Shinsou muttered, “I have two, and from what I’ve gathered so do you,” “We do,” Kaminari nodded, while Sero kept his mouth shut and just grinned. “They don’t match, at least they both don’t match between just you two,” Shinsou pointed between the two of them, and frowned before rounding on Sero, “How are you so sure both of mine match both of yours?” “Speculation mostly,” Sero confirmed. “Wow,” Shinsou deflated. “uh Uh,” Kaminari interrupted, “I know your matches mine cause I’ve seen it!” Shinsou blinked and looked at his hip before shaking his head and touching his shoulder, “Right,” “That just leaves,” Sero didn’t finish, letting his eyes make his point. “This is unbelievable,” Shinsou groaned, “I don’t have the energy for this,” “I’ll stop,” Sero relented. Kaminari decided it was time for him to wiggle out of his shirt and energetically show Shinsou. It took a whole minute of him staring before he approached and lay his hand over it, “Okay…”his tone was thoughtful and he let his hand fall, “You might as well look at my second one,” Shinsou immediately began shucking off his pants, while Kaminari became a blushing mess. “What’s with him?” Shinsou looked to Sero. “He’s way too gay to be as shy as he is,” Sero made an exaggerated shrug before kicking off his own pants. “Shy is not the word I’d use,” Shinsou showed his mark, a black arrow with a jagged end, “At first I thought it was a broken arrow, but now I kinda see it,” “I’m way better than a broken arrow,” Sero grinned and bared his own, “What do you think, wanna touch it too?” “I barely know you,” Shinsou snorted. “Fair, but what’s a little touch between soulmates?” Sero winked. A slight blush crossed Shinsou’s face before he turned away to put his pants back on and Sero just laughed. Kaminari reappeared and latched onto Shinsou’s arm. “How does it feel, having two soulmates?” he leaned into Shinsou, batting his eyes. “Right now?” Shinsou sighed heavily, “It’s a bit much,” “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Sero said seriously, “You don’t even have to be our boyfriend or anything, just spend some time with us,” “What he said, which is pretty much been our whole relationship so far,” Kaminari loosed one of his hands to grab Sero’s, “Please think about it?” “I’ll do that,” Shinsou said softly before pulling away just so their hands were linked, “I’m not far, I’ve officially moved into the empty fourth floor room,” Kaminari and Sero shared a look, one that seemed sympathetic at best. When he asked why, they just shook their heads and wished him a good night.

 “They are so loud,” Shinsou grumbled, “I swear I’m gonna brainwash them both and lock them in an empty room,” “Yes because you are much quieter,” Sero smirked. Shinsou rolled his eyes. Kaminari who was stretched over both of them just snickered, “It’s not a competition guys, besides if I had to choose between Kiri and Blasty and you guys, you guys are much more fun to watch and listen to,” “You’re a rather biased judge, shouldn’t we bring in someone more impartial, like Yaomomo and Jirou?” Sero suggested. “I’d rather not watch you guy’s sloppy makeout sessions!” Jirou called from the other end of the room. “Then why are you listening in on such a conversation,” Sero waggled his eyebrows in her direction. She retaliated by sticking out her tongue and turning back to the homework the girls had spread out on one of the common room tables. “Shouldn’t we be studying too?” Sero mused. “Denki is an idiot and I’m already finished,” Shinsou pointed out, “And if I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve made a half-assed attempt,” “Are you sure your quirk is brainwashing and not mind reading?” Sero laughed. “I dunno, what do you think?” he asked Kaminari who began answering only for his expression to go slack. Shinsou told him to do a handstand and hold it and shrugged, “Yup, pretty sure that’s brainwashing,” he nodded before Kaminari’s natural ability began to fail and he fell to the floor, breaking out of it. “Why am I the only one you ever brainwash?” he pouted. “Because you make it so easy,” Shinsou snorted, drawing a laugh from Sero as well. Kaminari huffed and reseated himself across both of their laps. He shifted a bit before curling his feet around Sero and linking his arms around Shinsou’s neck. “I trust you,” he said quietly to Shinsou.

Trust had been the biggest hurdle, not necessarily gaining on another’s trust, but reassuring Shinsou that the both of them did trust him, so it almost became a little mantra between them, something they could say when all other words failed them because it meant a whole lot more to them. By third year they were inseparable, navigating their way through internships and hero training together, which of course landed them at a smaller agency, but none of them could find it in them to care. They were together. Linked by their soul-marks, linked by their unwavering trust.

<-Previous | FIRST | 3/? |Next->

[sonicrainicorn]

Made of Love, Chapter 16

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: W͏̤ę̫̙̥̜̹̘͔l͉̳̪͕̥̭c̘̰̟o̙͉͕̰m͏̼̪̥͈͔̦ͅe̞̼͍͡ ͉̦͔͉̤t̵̺̗̹o ̹̻̝͚̞̠͉t̩he ͏͚̜̤p͕a͉̝n̡͚̯i̮̪̟c̭̟̘ ҉̯̤̼̥̥r̫͓͙̼o̲̮̤̜̝͉̼om͇͍̗.

TW: Cursing, stabbing

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

Virgil slept well passed one o’clock. In his defense, he needed the rest. Also, he hated mornings. He still felt tired when he woke up, but at least it was at a level he could manage. He stared up at the ceiling for several minutes before deciding to get out of bed. He trudged down the hall to see three faces he knew well. It was odd how quickly he had gotten used to living in a house with four other dorks.

Roman and Thomas sat on the floor at the coffee table playing some sort of card game. Maybe it was Speed. Virgil was too sleepy to pay attention to it. Logan was sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, scribbling into the notebook on his lap. Patton was most likely outside. The TV played mindless background noise.

Virgil plopped onto the armchair without a word. No one paid him any mind. It was nice; things felt normal. As if this was just a regular day with friends. If your friends happened to consist of two people who are sometimes one person, a ninety-four-year-old child, and a photographer who is way too into fantasy, that is. So, maybe Virgil wouldn’t say that “regular” fit in with this group in particular.

“Dammit,” Roman’s complaint was almost covered by Thomas’s cheer. When Virgil looked, he saw Thomas with an empty hand and Roman holding onto one card.

“You were pretty close that time,” Thomas teased. He pushed himself off the floor to wander over to the kitchen.

Roman frowned and started gathering all the cards into a single deck. “I’m going to call bullshit because Speed has been around since the 40s at least, and you’ve had the advantage of being around at that time.”

“Hey, just because I’m old doesn’t mean you can use it to justify your crummy gameplay.”

Virgil snorted. “He’s got you there.”

Roman threw a card at him. “No one asked you.”

Virgil retaliated by keeping the card.

Thomas came back in with a bowl of grapes and took a seat beside Logan to stay out of the rather immature fight going on. Virgil stretched to keep the card out of Roman's reach and kept going farther the closer he got to it. As long as Thomas didn't have to deal with it, he was fine. He munched on grapes as he watched the scene unfold. They were like two school children whose whole relationship was based on bullying each other. It often led to random entertaining moments such as this.

He glanced over to Logan and almost choked on a grape. “Holy cow.” He set the bowl down on the coffee table while placing a hand over his mouth. “How long have you been able to draw?” He had always been under the impression that Logan used his notebook to write in, not create literal works of art.

Logan stopped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pressed the notebook to his chest to hide the pages from view.

Roman snatched the card from Virgil’s hand and placed it in the deck. They stuck their tongue out at each other.

“Let me see it.” Thomas moved to sit on his legs and face Logan. He held out his hands expectantly.

“I think not.”

“Oh, c’mon. Please?” He gave his best pout and puppy eyes.

Logan wasn’t phased. “No.”

Thomas huffed and slouched his shoulders. “That always works on Virgil.”

“What?” Virgil stopped messing with Roman to pay attention to the separate conversation going on.

“Oh, nothing.” Thomas gave him a charming smile.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Thomas just wishes to see things that are none of his business.”

“It’s not gonna hurt anyone if you let me take a little peek.” He crossed his arms. “What’s so wrong about knowing how to draw?”

“That isn’t the issue.”

“Aw, you’re embarrassed,” Roman commented without even needing to look up.

Despite his scowl, Logan’s cheeks turned a soft pink color. “I am not. I just don’t see the point on how this is so interesting.”

“If you don’t see the point then why not let me take a gander at it?” Thomas blinked innocently at him.

Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I’m just -- here.” He handed the notebook over. “I don’t know where you learned to be so stubborn.”

“Gee, I wonder.” He began to look through it. And he may or may not have held it out a bit so Roman and Virgil could peek over his shoulders to see. “It’s not like Picani practically raised me or any -- oh my God. These are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen in my life. How long were you planning to keep this a secret?”

"I have no idea what you mean."

Every page Thomas flipped to had a beautifully inked drawing. A realistic yet scratchy style that seemed very unique to Logan. There were many different subjects. Some inanimate, some real. Even a few that extended across two pages. They were very detailed and intricate for something done in a few days. So far, Thomas’s favorite had to be the one with the little fluffy bird. He knew for a fact Patton had a part to play in that. That man had a scary good way with handling animals.

“Is that Kilgarah?” Virgil pointed at the page with a roughly sketched dragon. A sly smile spread across his lips. “I thought you weren’t interested in Merlin.”

“I never explicitly said that.” Logan crossed his arms as his face turned a brighter pink.

“Well, it looks great.” Roman grinned. “You should do little Aithusa next.”

“I’m just -- I’m really blown away by this.” Thomas couldn’t stop gazing at every illustration in amazement. “How did you manage to trace all your lines so well?”

“I didn’t.”

Thomas lifted his gaze up to Logan. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I didn’t trace anything.”

He gaped at him for a moment. “Shut up. You had to have traced this.” His wonder only grew when Logan continued to deny it. “No freaking way. You free-handed all of these? In pen?” That sounded impossible to Thomas. Free-handing in pencil seemed a little more believable since there was a chance to erase mistakes, but there weren’t any second chances with pen.

Logan didn’t seem to understand Thomas’s astonishment. “Is that difficult?”

Too many words tried to get out of Thomas’s mouth at once. How in the hell did Logan not see anything impossible about that? “Uh, yeah it’s difficult. It’s really difficult. Have you ever even tried to use a pencil first?”

“I’ve never drawn with a pencil before.”

Thomas almost choked on air. “You’re over seven hundred years old and you’ve never drawn with a pencil before?”

“You’re seven hundred years old?” Virgil and Roman asked over each other, though Roman’s came out sounding similar to a screech.

Logan sent a glare Thomas’s way, who in turn raised the notebook to hide his mouth from view. “Yes, I am,” Logan continued. “But that’s hardly relevant to this discussion. And, Thomas, if you must know, pencils as you know them are a fairly modern invention. It was common to use ink."

"What'd you do before ink?" Thomas lowered the notebook a bit. He knew for a fact that ink would have been impossible for Logan to come by during his childhood.

"I, uh, I would burn shapes into wood." He traced a shape in the air with his finger as if to demonstrate. "Fallen wood, mind you. Patton might have killed me if I burned anything into a tree."

"Okay, that's great, but can we please go back to the part where you're seven hundred?" Roman asked. "I think I still need to wrap my head around it."

"You told them without me?" Patton complained as he stepped into the living room with a pout. "I wanted to be there for it."

"I didn't tell them. Thomas blurted it out."

Thomas chuckled nervously, raising the notebook back again. "Sorry."

Patton slipped into a smile and stepped forward to ruffle Thomas's hair. "Don't worry about it, son. Sometimes that just happens."

"I'm not your son," he mumbled under his breath.

"What year were you both born?" Virgil decided to ask.

Patton shrugged while Logan answered, "No idea. I had it narrowed down to some time in the fourteenth century, but I'm unsure of any exact years or dates."

"I was born in the winter," Patton added. "But I don't really know how to translate the date into something that makes sense for a modern, human calendar."

"What is it in a past, non-human calendar?" Roman questioned.

"Treto cheizmon tin pepti daméra naká punpó mjeslino."

Instinctively, the other three turned to Logan for a translation. "I have no idea how that would translate, either," he admitted. "It's not exactly a numerical date. It’s just kind of a statement."

“Alright. Well now that I know how old you are, I have at least a hundred questions I would love for you to answer.”

As Roman buzzed along with questions, Virgil pulled Thomas away for a private conversation. He made sure to lower his voice before speaking, “Did you tell them?”

“Oh, uh,” Thomas messed with the pages in Logan’s notebook, “I was kind of working up the courage?”

“I was knocked out for almost six hours.”

“Okay, so I might have forgotten about it a little.” He cringed a bit. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

Virgil sighed. “I don’t wanna put you on a time limit, kid, but maybe you should tell them sooner rather than later. Like today.”

Thomas continued to fidget with the pages. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Fine.”

He blinked in surprise as if he didn’t expect that to work. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it right now.” He walked over to the other three without another moment’s hesitation. “Alright guys, I hate to interrupt the twenty questions, but I have something really important to say.” He waited until he had their attention before continuing. “Last night I had someone tell me where Altair is. And this morning, Thomas and I double-checked with Joan and Talyn to see if it was reliable.”

“And?” Patton pried, clearly eager to hear some good news.

“It’s highly likely that it is.”

And then Patton lit up. He smiled so wide that literal sunshine seemed dull in comparison. It made Virgil feel ten times lighter and caused a little smile of his own to come out. “That’s amazing. We’re so close to fixing all of this.”

“There’s still the issue on what we’re going to do,” Logan pointed out. He seemed to be going over several different scenarios in his head already.

“You have us,” Thomas said.

Logan paused. “I certainly hope by ‘us’ you mean Roman and Virgil, and not that you’re implying you’ll be coming along.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Thomas poured all his attention into the notebook in his hands. "I figured I could help in order to make up for mistakes one might have made prior.”

A grimace flicked across both Logan’s and Patton’s faces as if a foul memory flashed in their minds for a second. “That isn’t the exact issue,” Logan continued. “You’re still a child. You have very little experience in fighting.”

“Logan’s right,” Patton added. “This could be very dangerous. I wouldn’t even want Roman and Virgil to get involved, but I don’t really think we have much of a choice. We don’t exactly have anyone else to ask.”

"But I can help."

"Maybe you should listen to them," Virgil muttered. He ignored Thomas's shocked expression to continue, "it would be a lot safer if you stayed here." The Theorist’s words were loud and clear: something would happen to Thomas if he went. And Virgil couldn’t allow that.

Thomas frowned down at the notebook. It took all of Virgil’s willpower to not take back anything upon seeing that expression.

“Why not give him a chance?” Roman spoke up. “Who knows? We might need an extra pair of hands.”

Neither Patton nor Logan seemed all that convinced, to which Virgil let out a silent breath of relief for. As long as one of them didn’t change their mind then everything would be good. It was almost as if they shared the same brain; if one of them thought differently, then the other could be swayed to think the same way.

“I promise I won’t get in the way this time. Please.” Thomas gave them a genuine plea.

Virgil glanced nervously over to Patton and Logan. He couldn’t say any more about this. It would be their decision in the end. He knew, if he wanted, he could tell them about the possibility of Thomas getting hurt if he went. But he was pretty sure he’d seen enough movies and read enough novels to know that telling someone the future was a surefire way to make it come true.

“It’s still dangerous,” Patton said. “At least Roman and Virgil know how to use weapons and are capable of defending themselves. But you…” He trailed off.

“I can’t just stay back and watch --” Virgil caught sight of Logan’s reaction to that. A spark of recognition. Words that were familiar and held a specific weight -- “at least give me a second chance. Some way to show you that I can do this. Please. I know I can do this if you just let me.”

“I don’t --”

“Okay,” Logan cut off in a steady voice.

“What?” Patton and Virgil stared at him in disbelief.

“Really?” Thomas beamed. “Oh, thank you so much, Logan.” He rushed over to give him a hug.

Virgil didn’t know how he could have interjected without sounding like an asshole. He didn’t want Thomas to come along for fear of something terrible happening, but he couldn’t downright say that. Maybe he should have said something when he had the chance.

“Uh, you sure about this, Lo?” Patton wrung his hands. It seemed Virgil wasn’t the only one nervous about it.

“Just trust me on this one.”

And that’s all it took for Thomas to tag along.

They elected to go the next night in order to be better prepared. And boy, oh boy, if that wasn’t agonizing for Virgil. Every second that ticked by felt like hell. He didn’t know what to do. At this point, it wasn’t avoidable. He just had to keep an extra eye on Thomas throughout this whole excursion. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about already.

The building, as it turned out, used to be an old shopping place. It had a vast parking lot full of litter and faded paint. The big, blocky letters that were once attached to the front were long gone and were instead replaced by faded outlines. Who knew how long this one had been abandoned for. Virgil didn’t even recognize the name.

Unfortunately, the inside was no better. Trash covered much of the floor. Some displays and shelves were still left untouched -- somehow managing to make things that much more creepy. An old, musty smell wafted in from all corners of the building. It was kind of disgusting.

“It’s so creepy,” Thomas commented as he huddled into his jacket. He stayed near Roman, as he was the closest person with a light source. “Did it have to be another abandoned place? It couldn’t have been like a park or something?”

Virgil felt that on a spiritual level. But this place didn’t seem as death-trappy as the manufacturing plant. It actually seemed like they had a chance at escaping this without dying.

“Calm down, Virgil Jr., I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Roman teased.

Thomas grumbled but his words couldn’t be made out clearly.

“Both of you -- be quiet,” Logan snapped. “We’re here for a reason and it isn’t going to help if you keep blabbering.”

They muttered apologies.

“I could always add a little extra light, Lo,” Patton whispered. If Virgil wasn’t so close he might not have heard it.

“Now is not the time, Patton.”

Patton frowned and fell out of step.

Interesting.

The group continued to wander around in near silence. Virgil and Logan kept at the front with their lights. No one had any idea of where to start. There wasn’t any evidence of anyone being here at all. But, as Virgil has learned the hard way, looks could be deceiving. Every turn caused more uneasiness to grow within the group. They had to find someone -- anyone. They couldn’t have made this trip for no reason.

And yet the deeper they got, with no sign of anyone appearing, a sick feeling began to swirl in Virgil’s stomach. Something was off. He couldn’t tell what, but it was something. It didn’t have anything to do with the building, either. No. This was… this was like dread. A deeply-rooted dread that might as well have always been with him. But he didn’t know what could be causing it. Maybe he was being paranoid.

“What the hell?”

A deep chill rooted Virgil to the spot. He could barely manage to turn enough to see Roman, who was looking off toward the side at something. Except nothing was there. Just a makeshift aisle with nothing in between. Nothing at the end. Nothing that should have caused that tone in his voice. And yet it somehow managed to make Virgil feel more uneasy.

“Roman?” Thomas tugged on Roman’s sleeve to grab his attention.

But Roman didn’t pay him any mind. He continued to stare in confusion and horror. “M-Mother? How are -- how did --?”

“What’s happening?” Thomas turned to Logan and Patton for an answer.

Logan frowned a bit. “Roman,” he walked over to him, “if you’re seeing something, it’s not there. There isn’t anyone here but the five of us.”

Thomas lifted his hand and waved it in front of his eyes. There wasn’t a reaction. “I don’t think that’s a good sign.” He gave Logan a worried glance.

“Neither do I.” Logan’s frown deepened.

Virgil wanted to ask if they had any ideas, but the words never got to take form. Patton’s frantic voice sounded before he could even open his mouth.

“Logan?!”

Immediately, Logan returned to his side. “Patton?” He grabbed his outstretched hand. “What’s wrong? Are you seeing something?”

“There’s -- I -- I can’t tell.” He put his other hand over Logan’s. “Too many things are happening. I don’t -- I don’t know what’s real. I can’t tell. Logan,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “why are you leaving?”

Logan stared at him in bewilderment. “I’m not. Patton, I’m right here.”

“Come back. Please. You can’t leave. You can’t…”

“Patton. Patton, I’m not going anywhere.” He shook his shoulder. “Patton.” But he didn’t get a response.

“I think he’s gone, too,” Virgil murmured.

Logan sighed and faced the other two. “I don’t have an answer to what’s going on, but just know that whatever you see -- if you start to see it -- is not real. No one is here but us.”

“What should we do?” Thomas hovered at Virgil’s side.

For once, Virgil could see right through Logan. He didn’t know. He was just as lost as them. “Until we figure out what’s causing this we can’t exactly do anything. So before we even think about fixing it we have to find --” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp. The phone in his hand clattered to the floor. “You.” He took a tiny step back, wide eyes never leaving the empty spot between Virgil and Thomas. “No. No, you’re not real.” He turned away from whatever he was seeing.

Uh oh.

“Shut up. You’re not real.” He covered his ears. “I’m not there. I’m -- I -- you can’t be here.”

Virgil had an awful feeling that the battle was being lost. “Logan, don’t believe it. You’re right -- it’s not there. You’re here with us.”

“You can’t stay. You have to leave.” Virgil couldn’t tell if he was talking to his hallucination or not. “You can’t stay.”

“Logan?” Thomas called in concern.

He didn’t get a response.

“What are we supposed to do?” He turned to Virgil. “Why is this happening to them? What are they seeing?”

“I, I don’t know.” He truly didn’t. “But we can’t fall into it. We have to figure out what’s going on.” He put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders, careful to mind his phone. “Focus on right here and now, okay? We’re the only two left.” That wasn’t stressful or anything.

“Okay.”

Virgil could tell he was frightened. Hell, he was too. The people around them were falling prey to hallucinations and so far there didn’t seem to be any coming back from it. Or any avoiding it for that matter. There was no telling what they were seeing or why, but it was clear that they weren’t seeing the same thing. Perhaps they saw something specific to them.

And then Thomas’s attention drifted away for a moment.

“Kid.” Virgil found himself squeezing his shoulder. “Did you just see something?”

“N-no.” Despite this, his eyes flicked away. As if to make sure something was still there.

“If I find out you’re lying to me I’m not going to be very happy.” Probably not the best thing to say to a child you’ve yelled at before about such an issue, but he couldn’t help it. He was trying his best to maintain some semblance of control.

“He’s not real. I know he isn’t.”

Virgil watched as Thomas tried to peer around him to see something. Someone. Only to return back to ignoring it with a more panicked expression.

Getting desperate, Virgil grabbed Thomas’s face with one hand and forced him to look him in the eyes. “Focus on me. There’s only five of us in this room, alright? No one else is here. And right now, you’re talking to me. I’m right here. I’m real and I’m in front of you. Whoever you think you see isn’t really there.”

“Y-yeah, okay.” He nodded as best as he could with Virgil holding onto his face. But with a gasp and wide eyes, he tore himself away. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil furrowed his brows. “Thomas?”

“You can’t tell anyone. I never should have said anything. Please don’t tell anyone.” He continued to beg to someone that wasn’t really there.

Fuck. Okay, this wasn’t good. This was the exact opposite of good. What the hell was Virgil supposed to do now? He tried to grab everyone’s attention -- just one more time -- but no one responded to him. It’s like he wasn’t even there at all.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Step one: don’t freak out. Well, don’t freak out any more than he already was. Step two: find what’s causing this. As long as Virgil wasn’t seeing anything then he was the only one who could find the source. It could be anything -- anyone. He didn’t know shit about magic. But he had a feeling he’d know it when he’d see it.

If he could see it.

Oh, God, what if he couldn’t see it? What if he walked right past it? What if it was invisible? What if it could only be seen by someone with magic? Or, worse yet, what if it was a curse? How would he reverse it? Curses never came with clear instructions!

A chill crawled down his back -- almost like an icy finger running down his spine. It forced him to shudder. The space around him started to dim. As if a shadow had been thrown over the surrounding area to the point where he couldn’t see anyone else. Not even his light illuminated anything.

Alright, this was not helping his situation. What the fuck.

He tried to keep his breathing under control. That was the one thing he had control over. He could manage that, at least. He could focus on that. Just breathe. Breathing is good. In. Hold it. Out. In. Hold it. Out. In -- hold on a minute.

Out in the shadows, something started to move. Someone? They took a step forward. Virgil took one back. The process repeated until a full person could be seen. And… they looked a lot like Virgil. An uncanny resemblance -- a copy. Except this version of Virgil had dark shadows under his eyes. His clothing lacked any sort of color and he looked downright unimpressed.

“It’s funny,” he spoke, but his voice didn’t sound all that human. It carried Virgil’s cadence but with layers in lower octaves, “that this is the one thing you fear the most.” He motioned to himself. “You’re nothing impressive. Nothing about you is threatening. Your friends are a lot more interesting, I think.” He looked out into the shadows as if he could see where everyone was exactly.

Virgil let out a silent breath. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. Here was this doppelganger talking to him as if he already knew what was going on. He wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or confused. Yet he somehow felt both.

The doppelganger continued. “There are so many regrets. It’s almost palpable. Things they wished they could have said, things they wished they didn’t say. There’s so much of it. And it’s honestly ridiculous. Is this how people live their lives? With constant regrets? There’s so much of it in here. Far too many lifetimes.”

What…?

“It doesn’t make any differences to me, though. Whether it’s the childhood Thomas lost, or the family Logan ran away from, it’s all the same.” His eyes turned over to Virgil. “It makes them miserable. I don’t think they like being reminded of it all, and yet it’s funny to watch them squirm.”

Virgil’s fear flew right out the window. This thing was messing with everyone. He spoke about them like they were new toys. “What are you doing to them?” He broke free of his instincts and stepped up to his clone.

He continued to get that unimpressed look. “Do you mind putting that thing away?” He pushed the phone down with a finger. “I’m not exactly partial to the light. And I don’t think you want to anger me.”

Virgil glared at him but did as he asked. As he shoved it into his pocket, it came into contact with something. A pen. He slipped it out without a second thought.

The other Virgil raised a brow.

“What?” He twirled it around his fingers. “It’s just a pen.” He clicked it and the ballpoint tip poked out. He suppressed a smirk. “Am I allowed to have this out or are you not partial to these, either?” He clicked it again to continue twirling it.

The other Virgil scowled. “I could care less.”

“Great.”

“What is it with humans and the need to be insufferable?” He began to pace around Virgil. “You’re all like flies. There are other things that are stronger and better than you, yet you are always everywhere no matter how those things try to get rid of you. Yet in the blink of an eye, you’re gone. And you leave new flies in your place.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “What are you?”

The other Virgil paused for a moment. “There are many names for someone like me. Many have called me a demon, others only think I’m a shadow. I believe you would have known me,” he appeared to think about it, “as the boogeyman.”

Virgil tried to ignore how the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He had no reason to doubt his clone wasn’t telling the truth.

Other Virgil stood right in front of him again. His eyes gazed over every aspect of Virgil’s person. It made him feel oddly exposed. “Why you?”

“I ask myself that every day,” Virgil shot back without thinking.

“I’m well aware.” He eyed Virgil once more, then sneered.

Wow, rude. “Alright, I don’t really care about you or what you think of my kind, but I would like it if you fucked off.”

He quirked a brow. Some semblance of interest crossed his features. “What’s making you so bold?” He took a step toward Virgil. “You’re the timid one. You second guess all your moves and think long before you act.”

Virgil stopped messing with the pen. “Well, for one, you’re wearing my face. So I’ve already lost all respect for you. And you’re messing with my friends. No amount of fear is going to stop me from saving them.”

The other Virgil didn’t respond. He simply stared. Like a cat that observes a moving toy before deciding to pounce.

“Why is it not affecting me?” Virgil had to keep the conversation moving. “If you find me so boring why let me be free from it?”

“How do you know that you are?” A smirk slid across his lips. “What makes you so certain that this is even happening at all?” He walked passed Virgil. “You can’t possibly believe that out of everyone, you were the sole person to be unaffected --” Virgil’s stomach did a flip -- “there's two powerful Magi, another one that can barely hold that title, and a human that’s just better than you in general.”

Alright, this dude was getting the name Anxiety for being an asshole. Also for being scarily accurate to Virgil’s own thoughts.

“If they couldn’t avoid it, how could you? There’s nothing special about you.” Virgil shifted to look at him. “You’re just a human -- and not even a good one. You fail at everything you try to do, and you think you have the ability to save someone? Don’t you think that if it was that easy Logan and Patton would have done it by now?” Anxiety looked Virgil right in the eye. He didn’t seem as intimidating before as he did now. “But they haven’t. So suddenly you think you can do things that not even magical creatures can do.”

“Someone has to,” Virgil mumbled.

Anxiety laughed. A sharp sound that echoed off nonexistent walls. “And that someone is you? Just look at you.” He threw a hand out to emphasize Virgil’s appearance. “Is this what a hero looks like?”

Virgil sunk into his hoodie. It felt too big now. None of his clothes fit right. He was standing out against the shadows. There were eyes looking at him -- judging him. He couldn’t make himself any smaller.

“And look at them.” Anxiety turned around and swept a hand out. As he did so, the shadows seeped away to reveal Virgil’s friends. They looked even more distressed than the last time he saw them. Anxiety glanced back at him. “Think you can fix this? Can you change anything about this at all?”

He…

“Can you?” Anxiety's voice boomed. His eyes changed -- shadows started to creep into them until they were filled with pitch black. In an almost immediate reaction, the others cried out in various levels of distress. They lowered themselves to the floor with a different reaction to what they saw. Thomas curled in on himself, breath hitching. Roman stayed surprisingly still and silent. Patton’s hands flew to cover his mouth. Logan’s hands curled in his hair with his eyes shut tight.

“Stop it.” It came out at a whisper. “Stop.” He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t look anymore. “Just -- just stop. Why are you doing this?”

Anxiety’s eyes returned to normal. “You think you five were my first choice? I have better things to do with my time than mess around here, but a contract is a contract and I am bound to complete it. No one is happy with this, trust me.” He put his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Contract?” Virgil furrowed his brows. “What contract? For who?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Virgil ignored how cold his limbs got. This wasn’t ideal. A literal boogeyman had them all trapped because someone wanted him to. What was the right way to go about this?

“But you -- why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

Anxiety rolled his eyes. “You’re afraid of everything. So why are you here? With them.” He motioned to the others. “I know for a fact that you would rather have your old life back. Even if it meant you never got to meet Thomas. So why do you continue to come back to them?”

“I have to --”

“You have to? You don’t have to do anything. You could very well go on your own way and they wouldn’t do a thing to stop you.” He started walking toward the others. “Is it because you’re scared of them? Of what they can do?” He put his hands on Patton and Logan’s heads. They shuddered in response. “Ooh, if you only knew the secrets they have buried -- you’d be terrified. Would you like to learn some?”

Virgil couldn’t open his mouth.

“Do you want to know how many people Patton has killed? What about what Logan had to do to survive?” Another smirk began to crawl onto his face. “I could tell you all of their darkest fears -- every one of their secrets. I know how much you hate those.” He moved over to Thomas. “What about this one? The little boy who’s still scared of the dark. And we don’t even have time to unpack the mess of that one.” He pointed to Roman. “What do you think? Just because I’m forced to be here doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.”

How in the hell was he supposed to respond to that? His friends’ secrets were theirs to keep. If they wanted to say it in their own time then they would. There was no way in hell he’d make that mistake again.

Anxiety crossed his arms. “There’s no way you can lie to me, Virgil. I’m inside your head -- I’m in theirs too. I could tell you what each of them is seeing if you wanted. It’s some juicy stuff if you ask me.”

“I don’t want to know. Keep it to yourself.”

Anxiety gave a mock pout. “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings.” He fell back into his unamused glare. “Face it, Virgil, you don’t want to know because you’re scared of what will happen if you find out. You’d rather be ignorant to their crimes and go on believing that they’re all innocent little angels. Well, they’re not as innocent as they seem.” He moved around Thomas. “You have a right to fear them.” He began walking back over to Virgil.

Virgil held his ground. He couldn’t let himself fall for any of his tricks.

“Do you want to know why Patton and Logan won’t talk about their human friend? What was his name…?” He paused to think about it. “Remy. That’s what they called him, at least. There’s a very good reason they wouldn’t want you to know.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?” Anxiety looked personally offended. “You have a right to know. Why would a close friend of theirs suddenly fall off the face of the Earth?” He shrugged. “Personally, I don’t know why Magi like them would even entertain the idea of befriending humans. Seems like tedious work. Especially when they die.” He sucked air through his teeth. “It must hurt even more when it’s your own fault.”

Virgil didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Anxiety continued on anyway. “He was their best friend for such a long time. Right up until the end. Unfortunately, he met that end a little sooner than he should have. He was right around your age actually.” He tapped Virgil’s chest with a finger. “Just something to consider.”

“Do you have a point?” He needed to act like it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t cause millions of questions to stir in his brain or cause his hands to feel clammy.

“Oh, yes, the point.” He smirked. “The reason they wouldn’t want you to know. Well, it’s simple really.” He shrugged again as if the answer should have been obvious. “It’s all their fault. Why would they want you to know about them getting their best friend killed? It’s frowned upon to kill your pets, you know.”

Virgil frowned. “You’re lying to me.”

“Me? Lie?” He put a hand to his chest in offense. “I just told you that I’m inside their heads. I can see everything that they do. And I’m telling you, with full honesty, that Remy is their biggest regret. Emile Picani regrets killing his friend, Remy Magada.”

“You -- I can’t -- no.” Virgil spun around so he wouldn’t have to see him. “I don’t believe you. Picani wouldn’t -- he isn’t capable of that.”

Anxiety appeared in front of him. “What makes you so sure? You barely know him. He’s lived a long life. There’s a lot you don’t know about him -- a lot he wouldn’t want you to know.”

Virgil couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t. He had to turn around again.

“Are you honestly willing to rescue someone who will end up leaving you for dead? He’ll do the same thing to you that he did to Remy. And then he’ll do it to Roman. Do you want to risk that?”

He didn’t want to risk anything.

“Might as well leave now. Running away is what you do best, isn’t it?”

Of course, it was. That’s all he ever did. Maybe it was what he should do now. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t someone who could come to the rescue. He was just a coward. He couldn't do anything. He never should have even come. Why did he think he had a chance? He didn't have any helpful qualities. He should leave -- he had to leave. There was nothing for him here.

He took a step, ready to run away with his tail between his legs, but he noticed something. Thomas. He sat curled in a ball with tears streaming down his face.

What the hell was he doing?

Virgil blinked a few times, his mind clearing of the weird fog it found itself in. The voices stopped. Everything urging him to leave -- everything saying he couldn’t do it -- was gone. Those weren’t his own thoughts. He closed his fist around the pen. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What?” Anxiety almost sounded angered.

Virgil turned to face Anxiety, determination set in place. “I’m not leaving. Nothing you say will get me to run away.”

Anxiety scowled. “So what? You’re going to be the hero now? You? Do you honestly think you’re capable of that? Do you think they’ll think of you like one?”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. It matters what I think. And I think I’ve entertained you for too long.”

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” Anxiety’s voice warped further. The angrier he got, the more twisted it became. “You’re just a human! How are you able to ignore me?”

Virgil clicked his pen. This time, a dagger filled his hand. “Because I know when the voices in my head are wrong.” He lurched forward and thrust his dagger into Anxiety’s stomach. “Plus, I kinda hate myself. So maybe using my face wasn’t the best idea.”

He yanked it out.

(Next)

[a-cat-who-likes-stars]

Dating and priorities. 1500, 18 Mar 2021

"Priorities" has been such a key word these days, because as much as I had been experimenting with a specific type of dating, I'm glad that I'm able to clarify to myself the good things among any else. This time I'll record what happened with my 1st few trials with said certain type of dating. Try to guess what kind of dating I went for, though they all took place online.

In retrospect, the first profile I made was the best. I could rejoice ironically how much of a regret I had after deleting it, but I'm not someone who goes with guilt and remorse. I always move on, though this time it felt more emotional, and I felt I had to carry an extra sack from where I'm walking away from, like this was a souvenir from the experience I went through.

My first profile picture was really elegant with a tinge of sultriness, but just a teeny tiny tinge of that. The background was a pale pink with a light tiffany green accessory cape, a few dark wooden-like ornaments on a sort of mantel. At least that was the impression of the profile picture, because truly it was just my bookshelf and my bedroom wall and a random piece of sheet I threw over to cover my sort of library collection.

I was wearing my bob with my bangs pinned up so I looked clean, tidy, well kept, classy, simple, no-nonsense. My make-up was a simple blush pink lipstick, some mascara, some compact powder to cover my undereye circles, brow penciled. The compact wasn't really covering the deeper shade of my undereye fully, combined with daylight it seemed too transparent, but that warrants my no-need to do any eyeshadow.

In the profile picture I'm in a half smile, but really it's just a matter of angle because I don't have to smile at all, I just seem like I'm smiling politely. My eyes looked downwards at the camera lens. I looked really classy.

Anyways the description and the photo was a boom because I received messages as soon as I put them online and they got approved.

There's this guy who offered a pay per meet but they gave off an off vibe so I deleted the message.

Over those kinds of inboxes the 1st guy that caught my eye did exactly this: he wanted to meet over coffee and offered a monthly allowance of 3000. That caught my eye because he meant business. I later caught on with him by texting outside of the website only to come to the conclusion I wasn't able to meet him because I won't be around until the middle of April. He told me to let him know when I'm back in the city.

Maybe he was the 1st person I reached out the furthest, I was interested and sent a message of a song recommendation from spotify to him but he didn't reply. It felt like dangling on a cliff. 1 week later I got another message from an overseas number offering a job. I knew the only way was through this person because I only used this new number of mine to communicate with him.

That gave a suspicious feeling, because this proved he might give any info of mine to anyone and the key thing was Without My Permission, I don't care if he did it out of what kind of intention. It was wrong and crossed my line, and as much as the offer of 3000 monthly seemed attractive to me (a 1st timer) I decided to delete their contact on my phone.

I had another place where I kept account of our chat details so if I ever (but highly unlikely) want to reconnect to this person whom I had researched online and found out he is a carpet businessman who looks I have seen via photographs of him, I decided it was done.

My principles.

The next person I dealt with just recently. He was such a friendly person who seemed genuinely into the game. And by game, I'm sure with his experience, he's a player. He's married but still looking, and from what we talked about on phone (he was the 1st to call me and the 1st guy whose voice I had heard since I started dating like this) he had a partner once for 2 years, she was a student but she ended her studies and things moved on but they kept being friends, this guy is someone who really manages his time with finesse, I must admit. He is a professional engineer, he says, and in his messenger account he put a name that I could easily research online and find a construction company director position linked to it. From there he is said to be a graduate from the University of Melbourne a long time ago. From there it tells me about how old he is now. His children (since he said he is married) if any, I figure could probably be older than I am.

That aside, he seemed genuinely interested to have a long term relationship. He seemed chemistry. He is very friendly and I could totally be friendly too, but I was guarded and cold compared to my usual self, especially when I was on that 1 phone call with him. He said he was driving, and he liked to hear about people's voices when he drives back home from dinner with his friends.

The next day I was greeted with a picture of a rose from him and a wish. The day after it was a quote and another wish for productivity as I mentioned my occupation too. This guy really knows how to converse. I admire his manners and conduct. In fact, he matches 89% of my description of "what I'm looking for". Save the married part.

He asked me if I'm allergic to married men. No, I'm not. I see them as humans all the same. I actually see him as a patient. It has only been 1 year and 6 months since I've enrolled in my professional academic training, and for that part of mindset, I was intrigued by myself to be honest.

Like I said, I was interested also because I was curious why he would had such kinds of affair after marrying a woman. I researched online for a consecutive 3 days regarding this matter. The reasons were humane enough.

I was reckless and threw this connection away. Because I was trying, too hard. I had a favourite guru on this sort of dating and she was successful. In her videos she said it was never too soon and about how we keep our standards up high so that people we date are on par and we don't waste our time. Be focused on the aim. There's nothing wrong with that. Anyone who wants something has to set their intention on it.

I wanted a book so I texted him about it and he read my message and never ever replied. I was filled with guilt I removed my simcard so that I never EVER reconnect with this person however the chemistry or friendliness existed for the first 2 days.

I recall a tarot reading because I'm into these stuffs. The reading said this person "will prepare you for your true connection". I couldn't agree more. I felt on one hand I disrespected him, on the other hand he taught me to be respectful of time and mannerisms. It was a sort of transaction with no money involved. I'm grateful I met this person, he really reminded me of that.

He also showed me how high my standards should be.

The day after I watched my guru online and she reminded to keep it as a date, not some job.

Of course. I just went off track for a time. See how it affected everything. Impressions are so important.

I started to date because I wanted to spend my time on guys who can afford and are good in management, well in conduct, respectable. I was grateful I met them. It felt rare. I wouldn't have met these people who are multimillionaires, entrepreneurs, CEOs, Directors, if I only mingled with peers. Plus my peers suck.

What an experience. I'm thankful for these gurus. Eventhough I will most probably NEVER meet them ever again. But I will remember their names, they have touched me without knowing (it's not that sentimental, just stating) and if I ever come across them in real life, I will send a wish for their general well-being. Like putting it out to the universe and the universe will take care of everything else.

I took out my profile and deactivated it. Nothing remains except if you're a hacker you may retrieve the deleted info. It was like a summer fling to me. Although everything IS like a fling to me. I take things less serious than I seem to be, and as much as I'm warm around, my heart isn't as so.

All in all, it was my 1st experience with sugar dating. Yep. Meeting successful men who keep their private life so private people assume they're gay? Interesting as heck.

I'd love to redo this again in the future after I level up. Ah, such are the beginnings of and afterthoughts for my dating choices. Imma try to write a book in the end as a memoir. Cheers!

[shitty-check-please-aus]

What do you think about an “i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au with charmer or nurseydex or zimbits or something??

Well, I don’t know if you expected three mini fics, and I didn’t fully follow the prompt, but here we are.

1. Charmer

Look, Chris knew it was dumb. He knew that everyone on earth had a plain black suitcase, he knew he should have double-checked the luggage tag, he knew it was important to be sure abut these things. But knowing what he should have done couldn’t help him when he finally got his suitcase home and opened it up to find mostly yoga pants and sundresses. 

Fuck.

He zipped the bag back up and flipped open the luggage tag. It was cute, pink with some metallic lettering saying “I’m outta here!” in a handwritten font. Chris blamed jetlag and the redeye flight for making him miss the fact that it wasn’t his Sharks tag. He blamed the bag’s owner for not filling out any of the information on the tag.

Dammit.

Well, sorry random girl, he thought. He opened the suitcase up again to try to see if he could find anything that would give him a clue as to who the suitcase owner was. He moved a makeup bag aside, and hit gold immediately. Well, Samwell red. A Women’s Volleyball tshirt– mystery suitcase girl had to be on the volleyball team.

“Hey Ransom!” he yelled. “You’re facebook friends with all the volleyball team right?”

“He’s friends with everyone on campus!” Holster yelled back.

“Ask their captain if anyone flew in from the Bay Area and lost their luggage!”

_X_

“Is Justin here? My captain said he’s got my suitcase.” Chris overheard her at the door. He grabbed the bag and started hauling it downstairs. As he set it down at the bottom and caught sight of the girl in the doorway, he froze. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. 

“Um, hi,” he said.

“So you’re Justin? Oh my god, I’m so glad it wasn’t some total rando who got my bag.” 

“I’m actually Chris, Justin was just the one who was friends with your captain. Um, I’m sorry, but I kind of had to look through your stuff? Your luggage tag wasn’t filled out.” The girl laughed.

“Yours wasn’t either! Me and my teammates were like one minute away from googling the record holder for most San Jose Sharks merch, but it totally makes sense that you’re on the hockey team.” 

“Since we both forgot to write our numbers down, maybe we should do that now?” Chris suggested. The girl grinned, grabbed his phone out of his hand, and opened up a new contact. She punched in a number, and when she handed it back he saw a text of several random emojis addressed to the new contact of “Caitlin Farmer” with a girl farmer emoji and a volleyball emoji.

“Text me sometime, and maybe we can get dinner?” she said, and she was gone with her suitcase. 

Chris collapsed on the couch, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Chowder? You get your suitcase back?” Bitty called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah! and I think I’m in love now!”

2. Nurseydex

“Cheryl, I’m telling you, I had a ton of inspiration on the plane and I wrote some great stuff for act three. No. No, it wasn’t just me thinking it’s great because I popped some melatonin and got really sleepy. It’s like, legit. Yeah, I’ll send it over as soon as I get home and–”

Derek slammed into something. If he’d been holding his phone in his hand (bluetooth is a blessing when you drop stuff easily) it would have launched across the airport. As it was, his post-flight latte was soaking through the nice white shirt of the handsome stranger in front of him.

“Shit,” the stranger said, looking down to survey the damage.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have trusted myself to make a phone call and not be clumsy after such a long flight,” Derek said. He set his briefcase down and pulled a wad of napkins out of the outside pocket. The guy took a deep breath, going from murderous to calm in a few seconds. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going either, it’s not your fault,” the guy said, setting down his own briefcase and accepting the napkins. He blotted at his shirt.

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning. Or a replacement,” Derek offered. The man shook his head.

“It’s fine, it probably needed to go to the cleaners anyways.” He checked his watch. “If I run, I can probably get a new one before my meeting.” He wadded the napkins into one big ball, picked up his briefcase, and walked towards the exit with a terse nod. Derek, feeling terrible about the whole thing, picked up his own briefcase and walked to baggage claim.

By the time he was reunited with his home office, a cozy bookshelf-lined room in his brownstone, he had almost forgotten about the coffee incident. He was focused on sending the manuscript to Cheryl. Unfortunately, that was going to be difficult, considering he pulled a PC laptop out of the bag instead of his Mac.

Derek stared at the computer for a full minute. He almost couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. Hesitantly, he opened the laptop. On one side of the keyboard there was a weird thing that a few seconds of phone googling told him was a fingerprint scanner. Shit. He hit the space bar experimentally. Something flashed on the screen, and then was replaced with just a plain black screen with red text: ACCESS DENIED

Derek swore. He started to look through the rest of what was in the briefcase, but was disappointed to find it empty except for the laptop’s charger, three packs of gum, and receipts from a lobster shack in Maine. Shit. Nothing in here would tell him anything about the redhead he’d launched a latte at. 

He closed the laptop dejectedly, ignored his editor’s text messages, and went into the kitchen to make himself lunch and feel sorry for himself. This was the universe punishing him for covering a cute guy with coffee. If he had just kept his focus and waited to call his editor later, he could have sent the draft along and saved it and not be desperately trying to remember his inspiration.

Just as the self-pity spiral was really taking off, the doorbell rang. Derek sighed, put down his tea, and walked to the door. When he opened it, it wasn’t Girl Scouts or Jehovah’s Witnesses, but the guy from the airport.

“Cancel whatever you’re doing today, I need to teach you the most basic principles of digital security,” the guy said, pushing past Derek into the dining room. He shoved a stack of papers onto a chair and pulled Derek’s laptop out.

“I’m Will, by the way, I make software that’s hopefully a step ahead of viruses.”

“Is the draft still there?”

“The draft of what?” The guy looked confused.

“My third act breakthrough. I’m a novelist, I need to get it to my editor and I couldn’t remember if I saved it,” Derek explained.

“You know you can set up an auto-save every five minutes or so, right?” Will asked.

“This might be surprising to you, but I’ve never had a cute guy storm into my house and yell at me about computers before.” Will looked up from Derek’s computer, blushing.

“I haven’t had a cute guy dump a gallon of coffee all over me and steal my laptop before, either, but here we are.”

“Maybe you can yell about computers over lunch with me?”

3. Zimbits

Button downs. Tank tops. Slacks. Shorts. Three rolling pins. A pie tin. A half-emptied multipack of sharpies.

No lucky puck. No clothes in his size. No jerseys.

Jack sighed. It would just be too much to ask for anything to go well today. He picked up his phone to call someone with the Falconers, in the hope that they could talk to the airline and sort all this out. At the same time, his phone lit up with Tater’s face.

“Zimmboni! Look on twitter. Small internet baker has your suitcase!” Tater hung up before he could reply, so Jack just opened twitter instead. 

omgcheckplease: A bunch of pucks, some dirty jerseys, and a history textbook. Either I’m back in college or this isn’t my suitcase.

omgcheckplease: .@falcsofficial please tell your #1 player to DM me and come get his shit

omgcheckplease: and @falcsofficial tell him to give me my shit back. my hockey days are in the past, I need rolling pins, not a mouthguard

Jack smiled and laughed in the way a person laughs when they’re alone, just blowing more air than normal out of his nose. He looked through the twitter for a minute– the guy, Eric Bittle, was a Providence-based chef, whose latest tweets were mostly greetings to the various cities he’d been visiting on tour. Jack clicked the media tab on the account, and looked through the pictures. Bittle was cute. He wrote a reply.

zimmboni: .@omgcheckplease how do I send u a DM

omgcheckplease: .@zimmboni you don’t deserve to be verified, oh my god #verifybittle2k17

A few seconds later another notification popped up, and he tapped it to be brought to a DM window.

omgcheckplease: hey! sorry about the mixup. I can only imagine how confused you were to find all my book tour stuff.

zimmboni: Probably as confused as you were finding hockey stuff?

omgcheckplease: I wasn’t joking in my tweets, I did play hockey before I got into the whole cookbook/food show thing

zimmboni: Exactly, I did a book tour last year in the off-season :-)

omgcheckplease: oh my gosh, isn’t it the best and the worst?

zimmboni: I know. It’s great to meet people and talk about your work, but it’s exhausting.

omgcheckplease: that’s why I’m so excited to be back in Providence! at least until the next cookbook.

zimmboni: Well we should probably meet up to trade suitcases. Want to meet somewhere for dinner?

omgcheckplease: don’t trust me to learn where your house is?

zimmboni: I mean, if dinner goes well enough…

omgcheckplease: OH. okay, then, Mr. Zimmermann, it’s a date.

Jack smiled to himself, and got ready for his date.

[flirting-with-psychology]

2014/2015/2016/2017 New Years Survey

Adding in 2017

1: What did you do in 2014/2015/2016/2017 that you’d never done before?

2014: Had sex

2015: Got further in my love life

2016: Went to the PAC 12 Championship, and about to go to a bowl game

2017: Graduated and moved in with friends

2: Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? 2014: I don’t think I actually made any. I might try to this year

2015: I kept a lot of them, and I will probably make new ones

2016: I can’t remember what they were. I might make new ones

2017: I can’t remember what they were. I am making new ones

3: Did anyone close to you give birth? 2014: No

2015: No

2016: My mom’s ex-boyfriend’s daughter

2017: No

4: Did anyone close to you die? 2014: No

2015: No

2016: My friend Zach, although we hadn’t really talked much for a couple of years so we weren’t close anymore

2017: No

5: What countries did you visit? 2014: I stayed in my home country this year, but hopefully I will travel more in 2015 or 2016, I am planning to study abroad

2015: I stayed in my home country but I am planning to study abroad in 2016

2016: I studied abroad in Italy :)

2017: I went to London with my mom

6: What would you like to have in 2015/2016/2017/2018 that you lacked in 2014/2015/2016/2017? 2014: A boyfriend, more confidence, and a more interesting personality

2015: A boyfriend and more confidence

2016: A boyfriend already goddamnit it’s time

2017: An official boyfriend and a film job

7: What dates from 2014/2015/2016/2017 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 2014: 12/13/14, the day I had sex, and it was interesting because I had my first kiss on 11/12/13

2015: 9/3/15 was the day of the Old Chicago watch party where Hawaii flirted me.

2016: 6/8/16 the day I found out Zach had died

2017: 8/21/17, the solar eclipse

8: What was your biggest achievement of the year? 2014: I think my Blank Space video was cool. Also I got a job

2015: Maybe finally starting to go to the gym and get confidence

2016: My short film Pancakes, which had a full film crew

2017: Graduated college

9: What was your biggest failure? 2014: Letting myself remain unhappy instead of figuring out how to change it

2015: Losing some of the confidence I gained in the fall

2016: Kinda giving up on trying, in various ways

2017: Did not get back into working out

10: Did you suffer illness or injury? 2014: I had a trifecta of stomach flu, pink eye, and common cold during finals week. I also cut my foot open at Water World and it got infected

2015: I was sick for a month from kissing Hawaii

2016: Yeah, that month-long Hawaii plague kinda turned into a year-long strike from my immune system. Also, I got a node in my thyroid. So far it’s benign, just a weird lump

2017: I had to get surgery to remove the thyroid node

11: What was the best thing you bought? 2014: A Netflix subscription

2015: My TV

2016: All my Italy souvenirs. Idk I can’t pinpoint one thing

2017: Sebastian the pirate merman ornament

12: Whose behaviour merited celebration? 2014: My mom’s boyfriend is finally apologizing to her and trying to make up for cheating on her last year, and he actually seems to be working really hard to change

2015: Vincent has become close friends with me and shows a lot of bravery in how he handles things

2016: The football team finally got good

2017: My film class for all we accomplished and helping each other on projects

13: Whose behaviour made you appalled? 2014: There were a few guys who bailed on me without explanation, but the biggest one is my friend who stopped talking to me, apparently because I vented to her too much, but did not give me any chance to fix it and seems to hate me now

2015: All the guys who were too cowardly to text me back

2016: This one dude in Italy on my study abroad program made out, etc with me, then told me not to tell anyone because there was a different girl he wanted to get with

2017: My friend and his girlfriend got mad at me for seeking out another ride because they drove recklessly

14: Where did most of your money go? 2014: A lot went into camera and film equipment rentals. Unfortunately quite a bit also went into the vending machine

2015: Random stuff, and more than usual went to holiday presents

2016: Groceries and clothes and knick knacks

2017: Rent

15: What did you get really, really, really excited about? 2014: I went to the Telluride Film Festival with a school group

2015: Getting to go on a band trip

2016: Getting to go on 3 (three!) band trips

2017: Graduating and London

16: What song will always remind you of 2014/2015/2016/2017? 2014: Songs tend to remind me of people, and the songs that remind me of the people of 2014 are “Don’t Cha” for Captain and “Wildest Dreams” for Marble. Also, Blank Space for all of them

2015: Taylor Swift’s 1989 album

2016: Shut Up and Dance

2017: Not sure if I have one. Maybe the Anastasia soundtrack

17: Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? © richer or poorer? 2014: A) Maybe a little sadder. I’m just getting more desperate as more time passes with me single. B) About the same, maybe a couple pounds fatter. C) Richer, now that I have a job

2015: A) Happier. B) Thinner. C) About the same, maybe a little richer. I’m not excellent at saving

2016: A) Happier. I was about to say sadder, because I think this year as a whole I’ve been sadder than last year as a whole, but I remembered that in december I was trying to get over Hawaii and that sucked ass. B) Fatter. C) About the same, maybe a bit richer

2017: A) About the same. Maybe a little sadder, I kind of miss college. B) Probably about the same. C) Probably poorer because I actually have to pay rent now. But I also make a lot more money so maybe it evens out

18: What do you wish you’d done more of? 2014: Adventures, swing dancing, and maybe a little more textbook reading

2015: Enjoying myself and trying new experiences, and getting the most out of school

2016: Exercising, making friends in Italy

2017: I wish I had done more in college as a whole

19: What do you wish you’d done less of? 2014: Fighting with my parents, perhaps, and maybe less being sad or worried around people because clearly it pushes them away

2015: Worrying about things

2016: Thinking about Hawaii

2017: Strategizing

20: How did you spend Christmas? 2014: With my mom’s boyfriend’s family

2015: Oops awk, I’m doing this early. But I will spend it with my mom’s boyfriend’s family

2016: Lol I’m doing it early again. I think I am just gonna be chilling, I’ll probably do Hanukkah that night

2017: I keep doing it early. Idk maybe watch a movie or something

21: Did you fall in love in 2014/2015/2016/2017? 2014: No, I don’t think so. Maybe, with Captain a little

2015: Not quite

2016: I stayed in love with Captain. I’m pretty sure that started before this year but maybe not. I told him that I loved him this year, though

2017: Almost maybe, but not quite

22: What was your favourite TV program? 2014: Supernatural

2015: How to Get Away With Murder

2016: Suits

2017: Friends

23: Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? 2014: My friend who hates me, I’m starting to hate her back

2015: I still don’t really hate anyone

2016: Don’t really hate anyone

2017: Yeah. Didn’t know her last year

24: What was the best book you read? 2014: Mistborn

2015: The Testing, maybe

2016: Mistborn series

2017: Mistborn series. Also not quite a book but the Choices game

25: What was your greatest musical discovery? 2014: Blank Space

2015: Shut Up and Dance

2016: Collabro

2017: Anastasia the Musical

26: What did you want and get? 2014: A job, new experiences

2015: More confidence, losing weight, better friend relationships

2016: A bowl trip, a summer abroad

2017: I may be on the path to getting a boyfriend?

27: What did you want and not get? 2014: A boyfriend, to lose weight, more confidence and conversational skills

2015: A boyfriend

2016: A boyfriend

2017: Cadence

28: What was your favourite film of this year? 2014: The Imitation Game or Guardians of the Galaxy

2015: The Martian or Inside Out

2016: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

2017: Coco

29: What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying? 2014: Being in college

2015: Better friend relationships

2016: The football team doing well

2017: Graduating

30: How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2014/2015/2016/2017? 2014: Lazy

2015: Thift-shoppy

2016: Lazy

2017: Lazy when I was in school except for the days I saw Cadence, and then more fashionable when I got my job

31: What kept you sane? 2014: Hope for the future

2015: Belief in myself I guess

2016: Genetics and environmental factors that have not yet caused insanity

2017: Not sure

32: Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? 2014: Chris Pratt

2015: Still Chris Pratt I think

2016: Chris Pratt is a sexy, sexy man

2017: Yup. Or Kit Harington

33: What political issue stirred you the most? 2014: Probably the Leelah Alcorn suicide that just happened

2015: The presidential debates are happening

2016: The presidential election, first one that I got to vote in

2017: Maybe Net Neutrality

34: Who did you miss? 2014: My friend who hates me

2015: Hawaii

2016: Hawaii and Zach

2017: I missed Jessie while we were fighting

35: Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2014/2015/2016/2017. 2014: Let it Go

2015: Bravery means going after what you want

2016: The importance of storyboarding

2017: Strategizing just wastes time

36: Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. 2014: Got a long list of ex-lovers, they’ll tell you I’m insane

2015: I almost brought him up, but you start to talk about the movie that your family watches every single Christmas, and I’ll talk about that, for the first time, what’s past is past

2016: Buffaloes, Buffaloes, Go CU

2017: School’s out forever

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 85: "Mmmm, lamb meat!"

[esteliensmainblog]

childhood embarrassing moments and other questionnaires

25. What was the one embarrassing moment in your school life that you won’t forget ?

I’ll probably forget all of these eventually, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten tons already, but I do have some stories.

Like that time the lights weren’t working in the girls’ restroom and all we had (pre- cell phones) was my toy unicorn whose pink forehead gem was a button you could push and it would light up and she’d say things like, “You’re my best friend. I’ll take you anywhere.”  But you couldn’t really use the horse and do your business at the same time, so we had to work together.  It sucked. (Side note: I want to figure out what that horse was called... message me if you know?)

One time in middle school, I had an issue with my shorts.  I was always careful to stay within the dress code, but one day, a male teacher took me aside during class and told me that my shorts were showing “something we don’t want to see.”  I still don’t know what it was.

Once in elementary school, we had a substitute teacher who was seriously ancient and incapable of doing her job.  Apparently my bathroom stall door hadn’t locked properly, because she walked in on me.

I got my first period in fourth grade.  Thick stretch pants in the worst shade of purple.  I still can’t stand that color.  We had handbell practice that day.  It was horrifying.

In high school, I was still working on the whole “don’t just say whatever you’re thinking” thing.  The guy behind me put his feet up on the sides of my desk.  I asked him to put them down, because they smelled terrible.  He left the room, ticked off, and the teacher had a talk with me.  I wasn’t the type to accidentally be mean to someone, so I was kind of mortified and had to run and apologize.  Besides that, I was new at the school (compared to most of the class), so I hadn’t really been accepted yet.

At the same school, I once drew a picture of one of the older students, just to practice drawing, and because I had a photo to work from because my dad took pictures at the school play.  I went to tell her I’d drawn a picture of her, and she gave me this look of disgust and said something that made it sound like she thought it was super creepy and gross that I’d do that.  It was an ”I’m just gonna melt into the floor now bye" moment.

Majoring in a foreign language means making some embarrassing mistakes.  The worst of mine was in this class where we had to write a really serious essay.  I don’t know what the prompt was, but most of us wrote about hugely important and serious things we were going through (like one girl wrote about her far-too-much-older boyfriend).  Usually, if someone made a funny mistake, a different professor would just point it out in writing or quietly, but this teacher wasn’t afraid to embarrass students in front of the class.  My dictionary fail was, in this case, too problematic to even say in front of the class (and I was the prof’s TA so she was less savage with me), so she called me into her office.  What I meant to say was that someone (a respected mentor) kept saying he/she would do something, but then would never follow through.  The verb I found for “follow through” meant in a sexual way.

On a much lighter note, in early elementary school, the mean girls started a rumor that they’d seen me kissing my crush under the desks.

But more embarrassingly, to get back at one of those bullies (not for that specific incident), I once prank called her late at night.  Again, nobody had cell phones at the time, so it was the landline.  I didn’t know about *69.  Her mom called back.

One time in middle school, I got my period and wasn’t prepared, so two girls went with me to the office to ask for a pad.  (They weren’t friends of mine, and had been jerks to me and my friends for years.  I’m guessing they tagged along because they were curious or amused?)  The lady working there was gigantic.  She gave me what is, to this day, the largest pad I have ever seen in my life. We’re talking the length and width of at least four normal pads combined.  And those girls walked all the way back to the restroom with me where I had to try to put it on.

50 questions you’ve never been asked tag

1. What’s your favorite candle scent? Cinnamon, but it has to be the artificial cinnamon smell and it has to be strong.  I want candles that smell like Red Hots or those pinecones they put in the entrance of Michael’s and Giant Eagle every Christmas.

2. What female celebrity do you wish was your sister? None of them.

3. What male celebrity do you wish was your brother? None of them. 

4. How old do you think you’ll be when you get married? Rather not think about it.

5. Do you know a hoarder? Unfortunately.

6. Can you do a split? Nope.

7. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? Idk, some normal age.

8. How many oceans have you swam in? One

9. How many countries have you been to? One besides where I’m from

10. Is anyone in your family in the army? Yes

11. What would you name your daughter if you had one? That’s a secret

12. What would you name your son if you had one? “

13. What’s the worst grade you got on a test? Probably F.  Mostly got A’s but who knows.

14. What was your favorite TV show when you were a child? There were so many.  As Told By Ginger stands out, though.  And basically every cartoon.

15. What did you dress up as on Halloween when you were eight? Sure.

16. Have you read any of the Harry Potter, Hunger Games or Twilight series? Harry Potter, and I’m working on the Hunger Games.

17. Would you rather have an American accent or a British accent? I’m fine with how I talk.  British is weird and neat too.

18. Did your mother go to college? Nope

19. Are your grandparents still married? Only one alive

20. Have you ever taken karate lessons? No

21. Do you know who Kermit the frog is? Not a clue.  Never heard of dat boi.

22. What’s the first amusement park you’ve been to? The person who wrote this quiz must be ten.  I can’t remember these things.

23. What language, besides your native language, would you like to be fluent in? Already fluent in French.  Would like to learn basically any other language.  Japanese or Korean would be cool.  I’m also a fan of made-up languages.  I really like Trigedasleng from The 100, since it’s like a fun creole of English.

24. Do you spell the color as grey or gray? Both.  Yup.

25. Is your father bald? No

26. Do you know triplets? No

27. Do you prefer Titanic or The Notebook? Never seen either

28. Have you ever had Indian food? Weirdly, only stuff I’ve cooked, so it doesn’t count.

29. What’s the name of your favorite restaurant? It’s this Japanese place that’s soooo good.

30. Have you ever been to Olive Garden? I aint never heard a’ no olives in the .. gardens.. Yes.  Obviously, yes.

31. Do you belong to any warehouse stores (Costco, BJ’s, etc.)? No.  Paying to shop is dumb.

32. What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender? Dunno

33. If you have a nickname, what is it? Anyone reading this either already knows or doesn’t need to know

34. Who’s your favorite person in the world? I’m lucky enough to have a few.  Two best friends, two nephews, a big family..

35. Would you rather live in a rural area or in the suburbs? Suburbs

36. Can you whistle? No

37. Do you sleep with a nightlight? No

38. Do you eat breakfast every morning? Yes

39. Do you take any pills or medication daily? Yes

40. What medical conditions do you have? Dude

41. How many times have you been to the hospital? Umm.  Once to be born, probably once when I broke my arm, once a few days after a bike accident..  That might be all.

42. Have you ever seen Finding Nemo? Seriously, you are ten.

43. Where do you buy your jeans? Thrift stores

44. What’s the last compliment you got? It was from an online quiz. I’m in extreme summer introvert mode.

45. Do you usually remember your dreams in the morning? Yes. Thanks, meds.

46. What flavor tea do you enjoy? Plain black is good, but I grew up on apricot tea (black with a slight apricot flavor), so that’s always been my favorite.  They’d put it in my sippy cup.

47. How many pairs of shoes do you currently own? I don’t want to move, let alone go count my shoes.

48. What religion will you raise your children to practice? Christianity

49. How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real? Idk, I don’t remember ever believing he was real?

50. Why do you have a youtube? What does this sentence mean?

Some random questions :P

1. What’s your height ? Short

2. Which season is your favorite ? Spring and fall

3. Writing, art or chatting ? All of the above

4. Pokemon, long live, Digimon, YoKai watch, Barbie, Doraemon ? That second one is a song, though, right?  Whatever.  Digimon and Pokemon, in that order.

5. Burgers or pizza ? Pizza, unless the burgers have roasted onions and peppers, in which case, burgers.

6. What’s your sexual orientation ?

7. If you could change 3 things in the world, what could they be ? Everybody everywhere would get free health care, somehow the racists etc. learn and we all treat each other like we’re on the same team, everybody everywhere has the opportunity to make enough money to live on.

8. Any fictional character that you will love to cosplay ? It might be fun to dress as Asuna?  But because of the creepy stuff in the second part of the show, I’m not going to do that.

9. Do you sleep with any stuff toy by your side ? No

10. Do you live alone ?

11. Describe the surroundings around your home.

12. What will be your dream profession ? Getting to come up with ideas and not having to follow through with making them happen - somebody else does that part.  Also playing video games most of the time.

13. Which vegetable you HATE the most ? I don’t hate any veggie I’ve tried.

14. Which vegetable you LOVE the most ? Idk, lots of them are good.  Recently learned how to roast sweet potatoes and woah.

15. Ever eaten bitter gourd ? No

16. Strawberries or blackberries ? Strawberries

17. Number of friends on tumblr. Three, off the top of my head.. idk

18. What’s is the one thing that you want to change in yourself ? I need to figure out how to keep up with dishes, and generally have better motivation.  My variety of depression keeps the motivation preeeetty low, even with meds.

19. Ever went underwaters ? Dude

20. Mom or dad ? With whom you’re much bonded to ? You just forgot how to speak English, but okay.  Dad.

21. Number and age of siblings ? One sister.  Very older.

22. Ever met any actor or actress in real ? No, but I heard Billy Boyd sing at an orchestra or something.  Freaking amazing.

23. Who you want to meet NOW ? It’s after midnight, so. nah.

24. What are your casual wears ? My sister got me this incredible dress-like thing that might be technically a swimsuit coverup.  It’s cute and sleeveless and has a hood and it’s so comfy.

25. (moved to top)

26. Are you curious about certain anons ? Huh?

27. What’s the one thing that you’ll always regret for ? Probably some of my purchases.  Nothing big, but I just look at things and think, if I hadn’t bought that, I could have spent the money on video games or food.

28. When you’re excited, which word you speak out mostly ? Idk? “Oh my gosh”?

29. Had crush on any of your friends in school life? Is he/she still your crush ? Not really and no

30. Do you celebrate Halloween ? Which costume did you wore last time ? I don’t “celebrate” what it’s about, but dressing up in costumes is super fun.  The last couple Halloweens I haven’t dressed up, but I know I’ve been Lucille Ball and Anna (from Frozen) a few times.

31. What’s your lucky number and lucky color ? ? I like purple.

32. What never bores you ? Technically, nothing.  But I love video games and dinosaurs and languages.

33. What you hate the most ? I’m suuuuper sensitive, so lots of sensory things like sounds and flashing lights and when people bump into me and bad smells.  Also washing dishes.  Because it’s way too sensory and all the feels are unpleasant (bad smells, dirty hands, unexpected loud noises, the stress of feeling like I can’t keep up, etc.).

34. Do you believe in ghosts and spirits ? Want to meet one ? No

35. What’s a common name that you’re often called from ? From?

36. In your eyes, who’s the most popular blog irrespective of the number of followers it has ? I probably don’t follow them.  The more popular ones I follow are Dan and Phil, Seth Everman, shower thoughts...

37. Do you know languages other than English ? French, and teeny bits of Japanese, Elvish, and Trigedasleng.  Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.

38. What’s the thing you’ll always cherish ? The mems Also the memes

39. Describe your personality in 5 words. Definitely too tired for this

40. Your Myers Briggs personality type ? INFP

41. Introverted, ambiverted or extroverted ? Very introverted in all situations

42. Are you left-handed, ambidextrous or right-handed ? Right

43. Do you use alarm clock to wake yourself up ? Phone

44. Read newspapers, magazines ? Not really

45. Ask any question… Why?

~ This or that

🌹 - loyal / 💔 - heartbreaker 🎉 - social / 💤 - antisocial 🍎-feminine / 🍏-masculine / 🍐-androgynous ⭐️ - night owl / 🐦 - early bird (permanently exhausted pigeon) 🐶 - dog person / 🐱 - cat person 😎 - sunny days / 💧- rainy days ✨ - stargazing / ☁️ - butt watching (CLOUD TO BUTT CHROME EXTENSION DOES IT AGAIN!) 🍉 - healthy food / 🍔 - comfort food 🎨 - artistic / ✏️ - logical ❤️ - affectionate / 💛 - reserved

rules: the questions deliberately come in pairs. instead of me answering all the questions, I want you to pick a pair, answer one of the questions and I’ll answer the other. (Yes, I don’t care.)

1A Are you going through a personal struggle right now? Nothing big.  It’s mostly family stuff right now. 1B Do you have someone in your life you can share your struggles with? Yes!

2A Who are you? Parasauro1ophus 2B Who do you want to be? Parasaurolophus (it was taken, but now it’s not, but tumblr won’t let me have it.)

3A What do you want to do before you die? Help people 3B What if you found out you were going to die tomorrow? I’d try to get things in order to make things as easy as possible for the people who will have to deal with my possessions. Then I’d spend the day with friends and family and not tell them, but make sure they knew how special they were.

4A What do you spend too much time doing? Video games 4B What is a new habit you want to form? Exercise

5A What is one question you would ask a fortuneteller? Is it free? 5B What do you wish you knew more about? Most things

6A What does success mean to you? Helping people and not hurting people 6B what is your next great adventure? Who knows.  Probably a new job and apartment and town.

7A What is your biggest fear? I don’t like the dark much.  Also afraid of bears and someone breaking in.   7B Where do you find peace? .... Video games.  No, seriously.  I know it’s escapism.  But take this week for example.  I was at my parents’ house for a lot of days.  I was constantly busy, between cooking for them, helping get rid of stuff, trying to keep my mom a little more emotionally stable, visiting family, visiting friends, etc.  I didn’t get any alone time.  I’m seriously introverted and am now very accustomed to living alone.  So being there, I got to the point where I just had my head down on the kitchen table and wouldn’t say or do anything.  I got home and accidentally slept til noon (which I never do), then spent three full days immersed in video games, Netflix, and YouTube.  I just have to recharge sometimes.

8A Describe a turning point in your life Halfway through my first year of teaching, I finally acknowledged that I was struggling with depression, and I told a few people I trusted.  Got to a doctor and started the process of finding meds and a therapist.  I’m doing so much better now than I had been since early high school.  It didn’t happen all at once, but that road to - I don’t want to say recovery, but at least being able to kind of function - was so worth it. 8B What are you looking forward to? Tomorrow, since it’s Saturday and I don’t have to be anywhere.  Maybe the grocery store if anything.  Maybe I’ll paint.  Or put the carpet back down.

9A What do you think about when you wake up? What I dreamed about and how crappy I feel and whether I can possibly keep sleeping a while longer. 9B Where would you like to wake up tomorrow? Here.

10A What object would you save if your house was on fire? Phone so I could call 911.  Maybe my very few belongings that are worth something, if I had time. 10B What would make you happy right now? Another ice cream sandwich would be nice.  It would also be a bad idea.

11A What are your priorities at the moment? Helping parents get rid of things.  Otherwise, serious resting before I have to get ready for the next school year. 11B What age do you wish you could permanently be? 25-26 was pretty nice.  I feel like I’ve started aging now.

12A What’s the farthest you’ve ever been from home? France 12B What are you interested in that most people haven’t heard of? Not much, since “most people” is hard to define.  But some of my favorites are pretty specific?  Like I play the ukulele, which is so mainstream, but I specifically play the baritone, which most people don’t know about.  It’s less trendy, the tuning is different from all other ukes, and it’s the biggest kind.  I love it.  I guess Runescape also counts as something most people haven’t heard of, since it’s pretty specific to people close to my age and is really old now (but still thriving!).  Fly For Fun was an all-time favorite video game too, from back in high school.  The official game (an MMORPG) is pretty dead now, and even when it was still big, nobody I knew had heard of it.

13A What songs have you completely memorized? Happy Birthday? Not many. 13B What pets did you have while you were growing up? A fish, then a dog.

14A What is a relationship deal breaker for you? There are so many.  The red flag I always say to look for first is how he treats waiters, his mom, and elderly people. 14B Would you ever take back someone who cheated? why/why not? 99% of the time, no, but situations can be complicated.

15A What was the best phase of your life? Adulthood.  20 was the most significant milestone for me.  Turning 13 or 16 or 18 or 21 didn’t matter much.  Not being a teen was the best. 15B What was the worst phase of your life? All the teenage years

[tonidorsay]

ContraMagica: Resistance Is Magical!

Part One: Prologue -- Chapter 1 Mar 29 at 12:14pm Prescriptivist thinking limits people to known , conserves and regresses. Descriptivist thinking limits people by what theyboundaries can see is possible, progresses and liberates. Chapter 1 “The caged bird sings because you put her there, and she’s calling her friends to help, ya damn fool.” “What do we want?” “Equality!” “When do we want it?” “Now!” Chicory hollered with the crowd, looking out over the group that had gathered here today, glancing over at Sylvia, who had the mic and was leading the chants. It was a good-sized protest. Looked about three hundred people, which put it at one of the larger ones so far. Better than that one a few months ago, where she had hauled a ton of signs and her medic kit and the portable amp to the site and ended up with three others. She hadn’t even organized that one. All she’d done was bring stuff. The organizers thanked her, and she never saw them again. Most of the folks here today were not from her precinct, either. That was bothersome, but a midday protest on a weekday rarely drew a good crowd, so it was even better. The challenge to Roe. That had to be the reason. Forget the added tax on hygiene products that sucked the money out of the wallet or the renewed focus on single earner households the new tax code pushed. “Fucking Trump and his god awful fascist shit weasels.” She let slip in that odd direct to mouth thought habit of hers. The gal whose name she had failed, as usual, to remember, gave her a push and a nod at hearing it. “Hell yeah, Sister!” Chicory smiled back, stepped back as Sylvia began to wind down her speech. Though, to look at the crowd, it was winding them up at the same time. They were angry, a few dozen pink crochet hats bobbing, many signs waving side to side and up and down, voices raw with emotion that she could almost feel even as she slid along the side of the temporary platform – the soapbox she had built and could assemble and take down in under 30 minutes and could fit into her station wagon, still capable of supporting a good ten people. “Infrastructure. It works.” She intoned as a motto of pride in herself. She had all the stuff to put together a protest at the drop of a hat, and it all fit in the back of her car. Down to a science. Had she been a boy scout in her past life, she would have totally gotten that preparedness badge. Plus, it kept her away from being the one out front, which she hated. Better to be the support person than the lead. Easier for her that way. After 50 plus years on this rock, she had learned that lesson very well. Despite the serious thinking of running for office that had been occupying much of her downtime of late. Someone had to do something about this. These goons were wrecking the country, and while at first it had seemed like they were just somehow god awful lucky to get into office, the midterms had shown just how bad things really were, as they took control of the Senate and snagged three more states. The Amendment they were almost certain to pass was one of the worst things ever seen in history, and even with that so many people totally missed just how bad it was. She sighed, shook her head as she made her way to the edge, planning to take a photo. Politics were always so upsetting. She liked it better when she had been working the other side of things. But with every major human rights law of the last sixty years about to be undone in the name of “smaller government”, it was politics now. Would be nice if she could get a damn job, too, come to think of it. She bumped into another woman. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry.” She looked at her. Muslim, maybe, or Mennonite. Either way, a good sign. She had pretty blue eyes that seemed to sparkle, and a shock of white hair under her head covering. Really pale skin, with the lightest hint of nearly grey freckles. Something clattered, drawing Chic’s eyes down to the ground, where a cell phone rested. “Here, let me get that. Sorry.” She knelt to pick it up, her skirt a little too tight for the bending over. Chic could hear the smile in the chuckle. “Thank you.” The phone was a strange looking sort. At first, she thought it was an iPhone, then a one of the latest Androids, but as she lifted it realized it was something even more strange. It was slightly thicker than an older iPhone, hinged along one side, with one of those edge screens. It folded. One screen on the outside, what looked like two inside, and a set of card pockets on the back. “Wow. Nice phone!” “Oh, you like it? Kind of a collector’s edition. Only three dozen made.” The woman agreed. “Name’s Whisk, Chicory. Nice to meet you.” Chic blinked as the woman took the phone from her. She had spoken, that’s right. Introduced and thanked, too. So yeah, her name was out there. “Hey, that’s almost as odd as my name! Nice to meet you. Sorry, again; I hope it isn’t broken!” “I’m sure its fine. You seem to be a bit older than most of the crowd here.” Chic nodded as she stepped around, turning to finish with the woman as she kept on her goal. “Yeah. Fifty four soon. Still feel like 21, though! Gotta keep going. Sorry!” She turned back around, avoided another collision, and made it to the edge of the crowd, pulling out her own phone, an older model iPhone she didn’t have service for but had picked up during a better time. Before her husband had died. She framed the shot, clicked a few frames, started to move to another position, and noticed something ahead of her. “Oh shit.” “Yes, that doesn’t look good, does it?” She turned to her right, and there was Whisk again. “Oh, hey, sorry, didn’t see you there. Um, you might want to head out.” “Police a common sight at these protests?” “Not really, but they did just pass that riot law. And they don’t deal well with women who wear head coverings, Ma’am. Might be wiser if you head out.” A shout caught the attention of the crowd and the stage both. It felt as if the entire crowd suddenly fell silent and turned to face the squad of police officers marching down the street behind riot shields. Chicory started to push through the crowd to get to the front. If she got there in time she might be able to stop it from getting bad. From getting ugly. It had gotten ugly in Berkeley. But that was Berkeley. It always got ugly there. Chicago, too. Peoria, though, didn’t usually get ugly. And it had gotten really ugly there. Her heart beat faster. It was mostly younger folks in the back. She spotted a tallish teenager holding hands with her boyfriend. She had a shirt that said “Girl Power”, he wore a Captain America punching Nazi’s tee, his free hand holding up a “Save Roe” sign. They were truly a cute couple. Their generation was the one that would have to be the foot soldiers in this fight. She tripped, caught herself just before impact on her hands, bruising her palms and scratching one up. “Ow!” She turned, angry, looking up. “Fucking faggot!” The spit hit her right in the eye, followed by a sharp pain in her ribs. Some guy had kicked her! She wiped the spit from her face with one hand, gritted her teeth, pushed herself back up as she felt the crowd part. “That’s fucking tranny, turdblossom. If you are going to insult someone, try to use the right insult next time. Also, try real hard not to start something you can’t finish.” The guy was in his late twenties, short spiky hair, white, of course, because it was always fucking white dudes. He gaped at her for a moment, trying to figure out something “cool” to do in front of his two friends. Chic was not happy. This kind of thing was just what the cops needed as an excuse. If these boys start… One of the tough’s friends jumped up and punched a nearby black woman from behind in the back of the head. No warning. The second one dove for Chic, catching her around the waist and pushing her back down to the ground. The first one turned into the crowd as well. As he did, Chic caught sight of an id card in his back pocket. The sort worn on a lanyard. The sort working folks wore often these days. The sort that had been talked about by people at protests that had gotten ugly. A couple folks had posted photos of them on Twitter, almost immediately taken down by the service for unspecified reasons. She took the blows to her face and body from the kid, waiting for him to stop and move on. This was not a random event. It was a set up. Which meant that what happened to her wasn’t early as important as getting folks out of there safely and quickly. Because it was going to get ugly. Even as she thought it, she heard the sound, her eyes closed. The chunk, whoosh, clatter, fuzy burble of the grenade. Tear Gas. “Attention Rioters, this is an illegal gathering inciting rebellion and terrorism. Do not resist, lay down on the ground, face down, hands on your head immediately.” Chic opened her eyes. Her purse was still at her side. The punk was off her. Her cheek hurt, her lip bled, and she was certain her ribs were at least bruised. She reached in her bag, pulled the sleeve of wet masks out of it as she staggered to her feet and looked around. Another canister of gas struck a woman in her thirties in the head, dropping her like a wet blanket. A man next to her waved his arms, kicked the canister away, knelt beside her. The Riot cops moved into the crowd, and Chic heard a rumbling from behind them but couldn’t see what it was. She knew, though. She watched the boyfriend go down under a Billy club. The girl was just pushed down. Chic duck ran to the man with the woman on the ground, ripped open the sleeve, handed him a couple wet masks. “Put this on. Corner of Adams and Fifth is a first aid station. Carry her, by whatever way you can. Go!” She tapped him on the knee as he nodded, putting the mask on. People were screaming. Some of the younger folks were yelling at the cops. A decent number had formed a chain, linking arms. Others were struggling to get away. Those who had followed orders, more than a few, were suddenly realizing this wasn’t the time or place. Across the street, a white masked, hoodie wearing someone threw a stone into a window. “Fuck!” Chic yelled, upset at the gravel in her voice. It was a riot now. A well-planned riot. Someone had to have joined the Facebook group as a spy. Great Just great. Another thing that was her fault. She was supposed to have been checking them, but had gotten lazy. People were running everywhere. She handed out several of the masks. The gas didn’t faze her, though. Never had. The formulations were fairly common, and hadn’t change in decades, and she was that one in however many gazillion who had found out she could hack most tear gas when in Basic in the Army. She had failed to seal her mask in the chamber, and the Top had come in and ripped it off, expecting her to freak. She didn’t. It has almost no effect on her. Red eyes, and in about an hour she would have the most runny nose ever, but she didn’t even cough if she breathed short, shallow, frequent breaths. Something was funny about this tear gas, though. It made her itch. All over. Everywhere. Even in places tear gas didn’t reach. It was almost fiery. She saw Jason on the opposite side of the crowd. He was a shorter, far more handsome guy than she had been in another life, but he was a lot like her otherwise. And he had been off today and agreed to come out to work as security. He was her son. Her pride. The one thing she had left to Love in the world. His being gay might get in the way of the grandma thing, but eh. She could live with that. But he was in danger. He was at risk. He was… “Jay! Duck!” She screamed. Her voice carried. At an octave lower than her normal speaking voice. He turned to look at her, dropped a half second later, the sign swinging plant missing him by a hair. The plant raised the sign again to chop down on him, and suddenly met the full fury of Chicory’s charge striking him in the side. As they struck the ground, she drove her elbow into his gut, flipped her legs around his, and head butted him, followed with a palm to his chin, driving his teeth together. He groaned, and she got up, taking Jason’s help as she did so. “Thanks, Mom.” He looked around. “We better get a few more folks out of here fast, there’s a tank or something coming. Unless you’ve got more of that Wonder Woman in you.” Chic looked towards the sound, saw the line of riot cops had broke up into three sections, pushing back on people, clubs swinging those in the gaps, a group behind the front line zip tying people as it moved forward, leaving them on the ground. Behind them, dozens of protestors lay on the ground, nearly all of them bleeding in some way, arms zip tied behind their backs, and almost out of sight she spotted the girl and her boyfriend. Something tugged at her inside. “I just might, at that.” “Want help?” Chic shook her head. “You’ll be better at getting the hurt out of here before the cops get close enough. That chain is going to last probably about another five minutes. Once it does, no matter what, you get the hell out of here. I’ll give you a buzz later tonight.” Jason nodded, gave the recovering plant a kick. “That’s for fucking with my Mom.” Chic was moving before she even realized it. She was big for a woman. Despite myths to the contrary, she wasn’t even as strong as most women. Age had not done her bones favors, either. But Chic was a gal who had done things in her life she wasn’t happy about. But wasn’t afraid of having done, either. Adrenaline raced through her, heart hammering hard in her chest. Her lungs gasped as she reached the chain. Smoking. She had only given it up last year after nearly thirty years, but the price had been high. Took three tries, too. She caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of the punk that had tripped her. He was shadowing her. She turned towards him. He was holding his ear and talking, turned to glance at her, his face shifting to surprise. “Holy shit, she made me!” Kid had an earwig? What the hell, Chic though as she closed the gap. He moved away from her, broke into a sprint she was never going to catch up with. Chic adjusted her path again, heading for a gap between the buildings and the flank of a Riot group. She reached inside for more strength as she neared the line, knowing she was going to give out shortly after it, hit a sprint speed, right up on her toes, leaning into it. The cop line flashed by her, her curls a mess, her skirts tight against her legs, her focus narrowing to the girl on the ground beneath the shadow that had formed in the gas behind her. She could hear the footsteps. She reached blindly in her purse, fumbling for the pocket knife, thumbing the large blade even as she pulled out, hoping like hell she wouldn’t drop it. This was going to hurt like hell, she reminded herself, as she suddenly dropped into a slide that ended right next to the girl and her boyfriend. The boy was a few feet closer. He was having a seizure or something, eyes rolled back in his head. She quickly cut his bonds, feet first, hands second. He suddenly sprang up and grabbed her, pushed her down, eyes wild and red and swollen, breath ragged and foul. Chic looked over at the girl as he climbed up on her, pinning her down, just in time to see her head crushed by the wheels of the Riot Vehicle. It stopped just as the wheel passed over her. The air went out of Chicory at that moment, her eyes huge, the shock of it unbelievable. Something hit her, hard, bouncing her skull on the pavement, a gasping cry forced from her, and then hit again, the world spinning. She was flipped, and pummeled again, struggling to get her arms around her head which pounded and throbbed, her arms painfully wrenched and pulled back, her wrists suddenly searing as something cut into her. “That’s one of them, all right. Bag her.” She shook her head slightly, lifted it to see who was talking and someone shoved a bag over her head. “What the fuck!” Third time was the charm, as again something hit her hard in the head, bouncing her face off the street, and sending her into darkness. ----- If you liked this, there are four more chapters available at http://www.patreon.com/dyssonance For free! Join magical girl warriors Columbia, Hispania, Diaspora, Tethys, and Europa as they come into their own, discover their powers, and work to end oppression at home and abroad, uncovering a vast conspiracy and even taking a trip to a big White House to punch some nazi's in a roundish room. Subscriptions are a buck a month, and you get at least one chapter a week. I gots bills, they're multiplying, and the the blues aren't fading away But the power, you supplyin...