#what a whiplash these two prompts have been :'D

[mitamicah]

Happy monday and day 9 of @kaarija-inktober - for today we have from the Frank Edition; Idolize

Let's be honest, Jere would've definitely have looked at Bojan like this at the rehearsals for the Nordic tour x'D

[scary-grace]

the boy anon spooky prompt here and it would be very cool to see it reader x shigaraki if possible. I just really like the way you write it and i think it would be interesting.

Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt! I had to go check out the movie for this one, and I agree -- it was really interesting to write! I hope you enjoy this take on it. Happy Halloween! (dividers by @cafekitsune)

d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e

You need a job and a place to hide. The Shimuras need a nanny for their five-year-old son Tenko while they take a three-month trip abroad. It's a match made in heaven -- or it would be, if it wasn't for the fact that Tenko's been dead for seventeen years, and they want you to look after a doll that looks just like him. It wouldn't take much for you to be convinced that the doll's haunted by Shimura Tenko himself. And it is haunted. Just not the way you thought. (cross-posted to Ao3)

You’ve been on and off apprehensive since you stepped off the train at Kurouzu station, and more on-apprehensive than off since the directions you printed off pointed you straight out of town, but when you actually reach the address you’re aiming for, the nerves kick into high gear. This is the Shimura family’s estate, all right. The address is right, and so is the sign. And you know the Shimuras have money, or else they wouldn’t be able to afford paying a broke twentysomething to live in their house and watch their son – but still, you weren’t expecting their house to be this huge.

It feels iffy. Is it actually iffy? Or do you just want it to be iffy because you’re into self-sabotaging and you’re nervous about babysitting a five-year-old for three months? Whether it’s iffy or not, you still need money. And somewhere to stay. And you made a promise. You take a deep breathe, then ring the doorbell.

The door opens so fast that it gives you whiplash, and you find yourself staring up at a tall, dark-haired man with fine features and a mouth that’s primed to frown. “Mr. Shimura?”

“Yes. You’re late.”

“I’m – sorry?” You stumble on the words. “I thought I was – just a few minutes –”

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” A pretty, brown-haired woman appears over Mr. Shimura’s shoulder, a nervous, strained smile on her face. “Kotaro’s just a little anxious. It’s been years since we took a trip, and he’s still a little worried that something’s going to go wrong.”

“Yes,” Mr. Shimura agrees. There’s a pause. “Come inside. Tenko is quite anxious to meet you.”

Right. The kid. You put on a smile. “I’m excited to meet him too.”

The Shimuras’ house is pretty on the outside, fancy on the inside – but dark. All the curtains are drawn, and the lights aren’t bright enough to compete with shadows. It doesn’t look like the kind of house that a five-year-old lives in. You don’t know a lot of people with five-year-olds, but you’re pretty sure that five-year-olds are messier than this. There should be toys around. Or kids’ books. There should be brighter colors, better lights, maybe an open window or two. It can’t be good for Tenko to have things this dark.

What do you know? You’re not a parent. Then again, you’ll be the one responsible for Tenko for the next three months, so maybe you can make a few changes around here. You bought a book on developmental theory to read on the train, but instead you ended up watching TikTok videos until the 5G vanished. Maybe you’ll start reading it tonight after you put Tenko to bed.

“So, um –” you start, as Mrs. Shimura leads you up the stairs. “Can you tell me a little bit about what Tenko’s like? I mean, obviously I’ll ask him, but –”

“Oh, we can tell you!” Mrs. Shimura’s voice is bright. “He’s –”

“After you meet him,” Mr. Shimura interrupts from behind you. “Wait here.”

You pause, and Mr. Shimura slips past you to join Mrs. Shimura up ahead. They duck into a particular room, and you can hear them talking quietly. In the meantime, you take stock of your surroundings. The Shimura house is sparsely decorated, but on the wall opposite from you, there’s a family portrait hanging. It’s a good one. Mrs. Shimura, Mr. Shimura, and two children. The boy, the smaller one, must be Tenko. But there’s another one. A girl.

She doesn’t look that much older than Tenko. Is she old enough to go on a European tour with her parents, or is she staying with somebody else? If she’s staying with somebody else, how come Tenko isn’t staying there, too? Before you can really wind yourself up over something that’s none of your business, Mr. Shimura steps out into the hall, followed by Mrs. Shimura, who’s carrying Tenko. He must not be very heavy – she’s beckoning you forward with one hand.

“He’s a bit shy,” she says, apologetic. You have a split second to realize that something’s off about the kid’s position in her arms before she steps forward, fully into the light. “This is Tenko, our son. Say hello.”

You can’t say anything at all. All you can do is stare, because Tenko’s not a little boy like you thought he’d be. Tenko’s not a boy at all. Tenko’s a doll.

“A doll?” Manami asks. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you hiss into the phone. It’s a big cordless phone, and you’ve got it pinned between your ear and shoulder as you pack and unpack your suitcase over and over again. “A big, creepy doll. Why would I lie about this?”

“I mean, I don’t think you would,” Manami says. She sounds bemused more than anything else. Maybe you need to say “creepy” again, with more emphasis. “How big is it?”

“Like, kid-sized. They put it on the bed at night.” You can’t think of the whole bizarre ritual Mr. and Mrs. Shimura demonstrated for you without feeling like you’ve lost your mind. “They have a daily routine for it – I’m supposed to wake it up in the morning, and take it out of its pajamas and put it in its clothes and make it breakfast –”

“Why do you have to make it breakfast? Dolls don’t eat.”

“I know dolls don’t eat. Everybody and their mother knows dolls don’t eat! Even little kids only fake-feed their dolls.” You want to scream. “But they want me to make it breakfast. And play music for it. And read aloud to it – and make it lunch and dinner and read it a bedtime story like it’s a real kid. I’m even supposed to give it a goodnight kiss.”

“But it’s not a real kid,” Manami says. You hit your head against the bedpost, producing a hollow thunk. “Why do they have you taking care of a doll like it’s a real kid? Do they even have real kids?”

“They do. Did.” You wouldn’t let the Shimuras leave without giving you an answer about that one, and because they really wanted you to stay and look after their creepy doll for three months, they didn’t screw around. “Two of them. Tenko – the one they named the doll after – and an older girl named Hana. They both died in an accident seventeen years ago.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Manami sounds like she’s tearing up. You probably would have teared up, too, if the Shimuras hadn’t told you that after they’d handed you the creepy doll they named after their dead son. “They lost both their kids at once? I would go crazy too.”

“That’s the thing. They didn’t,” you say. “Not all the way. There’s only one doll.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Manami admits. “Why wouldn’t they make one for Hana too?”

“It gets weirder. Hana has a shrine. I’m supposed to take care of it.” That’s the least weird part of your job. If all you were doing was taking care of shrines to the Shimuras’ dead kids, you’d be perfectly happy. “They don’t have a shrine for Tenko. And the only picture they have of him is in this big family portrait on the wall.”

“Huh,” Manami says slowly. “Rich people are weird.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” you ask, exasperated. “Rich people are weird?”

“They are. Poor people wouldn’t make a life-sized doll of their dead kid and pay somebody to take care of it like it’s alive,” Manami says. You think she’s probably right. You’re poor, and if you had a kid who died, you – well, you don’t know what you’d do. You definitely wouldn’t do that. “Does it look like him?”

“Yeah. Creepily like him.” When you were racing upstairs to drop the doll on the bed and lock it in, you were unnerved enough to stop by the family portrait and check. “And creepily accurate, size-wise. Like, if you didn’t look too hard, you’d think he was real.”

“He is real,” Manami says, and you almost drop the phone. “I mean, the doll is real.”

“Right.” The doll is a little too real for your taste. “I think I meant alive.”

“That’s creepy,” Manami says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You called her looking for validation, and you got it. You should have expected her to ask for details first. You would have. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t stay here,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they aren’t true. “I can’t leave, either. I need the money. And I need to be – away. For a little while at least. Until everybody forgets.”

“Until he forgets,” Manami says. Your ex-boyfriend, everybody. He’s so popular in town that they might as well be the same thing. “He came around last night looking for you. Danjuro told him off.”

You were already on edge over the doll thing, but that piece of news soaks you in an instant cold sweat. “Did he say anything?”

“Danjuro or Keigo? Danjuro would never,” Manami says, offended. You try to pace your breathing, praying you won’t hyperventilate. “Keigo said he was just worried about you, because he didn’t see you come to work yesterday – and when he asked everyone said you’d quit – so he thought he’d stop by –”

“Fuck.” If you could go back in time and give your past self one piece of advice, it would be to send the town’s youngest police chief in history packing when he asked if he could buy you a drink. That one bad decision spiraled into a nightmare you’re still struggling to escape. “I don’t understand. What is it going to take to make him stop?”

“You’re doing the smart thing. Going away, letting things die down,” Manami says. “I know this new place is creepy, but you picked it for a good reason. They’ll pay you cash, so Keigo can’t trace your cards. It’s a small town off the map, so it’ll be hard for him to find –”

“And I’m supposed to spend all day playing house with creepy Tenko, so no one will be able to tell him they saw me.” You’ll wear a disguise if you have to go out into town. Now that you know Keigo’s still looking for you, you need to be even more careful. “I just wish I wasn’t stuck here. And I wish it was a real kid.”

“Real kids pee their pants and cry,” Manami says practically, and you manage a wheeze of laughter. You knew talking to Manami would make you feel better, even if nothing has changed. “Trust me. You’re better off with the doll.”

You might be better off with the doll than a real kid, but for the first week or so of your stay in the Shimura house, you neglect doll Tenko in a way that real Tenko would never have let you get away with. Real Tenko probably wouldn’t have put up with being locked in his room all day, or being fed breakfast at two pm because you stayed up late and slept in later the night before. And real Tenko definitely wouldn’t have tolerated being schlepped around feet-up because you don’t like having his scary porcelain face so close to yours.

Then again, real Tenko probably didn’t like listening to classical music at max volume, either. Real Tenko’s also been dead for seventeen years. It’s probably safe to stop worrying about what real Tenko would think of how you deal with his freaky little homunculus counterpart.

Whenever you’re not conspicuously ignoring Tenko’s schedule, you’re getting to know the rest of the Shimura house – and outside it, the Shimura estate. It’s beautiful, so beautiful that you have a hard time imagining how anything in Europe could measure up, and when the weather allows it you spend a lot of time outdoors, poking around on the trails that cover the property and watching whatever animals wander by. The animals here aren’t very scared of people. The Shimuras probably don’t allow hunting on their property, and based on what the mailman does when he stops by every afternoon, nobody in town likes coming near the property for too long.

One person does, though. The Shimuras let you know that somebody comes by to deliver groceries – and bring your payment – once a week, and you’re coming back from a walk on a grey, foggy day when you see him. He’s balancing four grocery bags in one arm and trying to unlock the door with the other. You hurry forward. “Here, let me get that. I’m sorry.”

“I rang the bell.” The delivery guy’s face is completely concealed by the pile of grocery bags he’s toting. “No answer.”

“Yeah, I was out for a walk.”

“I thought you were supposed to stay inside. You know, since Tenko’s allergic to the air the rest of us breathe.” The delivery guy steps through the door after you unlock it, then drops the bags on the kitchen table and looks around. “Where is the kid, anyway? He’s usually attached to Mrs. Shimura at the hip.”

“He’s, uh, taking a nap.” You look the delivery guy up and down, noting blue eyes and spiky white hair, along with some burn scars and a ton of facial piercings. “I’m sorry, they didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Touya.” He holds out a hand to shake, and you copy him as you introduce yourself. “Yeah, Mrs. Shimura mentioned that someone new was coming, but I wasn’t sure you’d still be here. They’ve tried out a lot of nannies, but Tenko’s kind of picky. Or so I hear.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask. Touya’s eyebrows lift. “We are talking about the same Tenko here, right?”

“The d-o-l-l? That’s right,” Touya says. You give him the weirdest look you can manage on short notice. “Yeah. The Shimuras get pissy if we don’t talk about him like he’s real, so we all got in the habit. You will, too, if you’re here long enough.”

“We,” you repeat. “How many of you are there?”

“Me and my siblings. The Shimuras hire us to do stuff,” Touya says. “The weekly deliveries are usually my thing, but Fuyumi or Natsuo might fill in sometimes, since they can drive, too. Fuyumi helps with their garden in the summers and Natsuo does maintenance shit. I won’t bring the brat out here until it’s time to chop firewood. One of these days I’ll get lucky and he’ll lose a limb.”

You think Touya’s joking. You’re not sure. “Which one’s the brat?”

“Shoto. My baby brother. Daddy’s favorite.” Touya scoffs. “He gets all the pocket money he wants. He doesn’t even need to work, but does he let that stop him? No. He makes me drag him out here anyway –”

Touya breaks off, glances at you. “Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah.” You have siblings the same way the Shimuras have kids, but you don’t bring that up unless you’re forced to. “I’m the oldest. I’m guessing you are, too?”

“That’s right.” Touya runs a hand through his hair, spiking it up even higher than it was before. “Not that I care too much about your backstory, but you must have something really shitty going on to make this the better offer.”

“Yeah. You could say that.” You’re not too interested in Touya’s thoughts on your backstory, either. You collect the envelope with your pay and sort through it quickly, confirming that it’s all there, then look up at Touya. “Do I need to tip you or anything?”

“Twenty percent is customary.” Touya doesn’t let that crack stand for very long. “No. The Shimuras might be off the wall, but they pay well for everything – grunt work like what I do all the way up to caring for their precious little boy.”

There’s a thud from somewhere upstairs, and you jump out of your skin. Touya startles, too, but he recovers faster. “Sounds like the monkey just fell off the bed. You should probably go check on that.”

“Yeah. It was, uh – nice to meet you,” you say. Touya snorts. “See you next week.”

You don’t actually think Touya would steal your money, but you take the envelope with you when you race up the stairs to the second floor, and drop it on your bed before hurrying into Tenko’s room. You spend as little time in here as possible. It’s like a time capsule, frozen on the day the Shimuras decided to replace their dead son but not their dead daughter with a photorealistic porcelain doll, and it gives off some of the worst vibes you’ve ever felt.

You leave Tenko in here most of the time because looking at him creeps you out, and in spite of Touya’s joke about monkeys on the bed, he’s exactly where you left him. What’s fallen over is a mostly-empty bookshelf, and there’s something behind it – a little alcove in the wall, with a pile of old, dusty toys. Action figures, mainly, along with a single plushie. You go to investigate, and discover that while you’re not much of a comic-book fan, you recognize almost all the action figures. They’re from Adventures of All Might, a cartoon your brother used to watch. It’s been off the air for ten years at least. What are toys from a show that old doing in a five-year-old’s room?

The answer occurs to you, and to your displeasure, it makes you even more uncomfortable than the question. This isn’t a five-year-old’s room. Shimura Tenko died when he was five years old – seventeen years ago, when Adventures of All Might was on the air. If Tenko was alive, he’d be about as old as you are. The thought weirds you out so badly that you nudge the action figures to the side and pick up the plushie.

Getting a decent look at the plushie first involves violently shaking the plushie until the dust comes up in a big cloud. Underneath the dust, the plushie’s dog-shaped, or more accurately, corgi-shaped. There’s a piece of yarn around its neck, with a cardboard tag hanging from it. You hold it up for a look and somehow manage to decipher the handwriting of a long-dead five-year-old. “Mon,” you say out loud. “That’s a good name.”

It's a good name, but thinking about it makes you miserable. A big, creepy doll might be all that’s left of Shimura Tenko, but Shimura Tenko was a real person – a little kid who liked cartoons and handmade a collar for his plushie, who’d be your age if he’d had the chance to grow up. Your eyes are stinging from the dust. You spend a few more seconds brushing it away, then carry Mon over to the bed and set him down beside Tenko.

You’re surprised at how much less unsettling the sight becomes now that you’ve added a toy to it. It’s improved enough that you feel okay spending a little longer in Tenko’s room, righting the bookshelf that fell and arranging the action figures on top of it, before you go downstairs to put away the groceries.

The Shimura house is old. Old houses make noises – weird noises, a lot of the time, and that’s just something you have to live with. You’re good at living with it most nights, but tonight, as the first really big storm of autumn rages around the house, the noises you hear sound less like old-house creaks and groans and more like footsteps. And voices. And laughter. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, you can’t.

You tried to call Manami, but the phone lines are down, and while you haven’t tried the lights, you’re pretty sure they’re out. All you can do is huddle up in bed, the door to your room barricaded, mumbling to yourself like an actual lunatic. “This is fucked up, this is fucked up, this is so fucked up –”

You’re fucked up. You think something’s haunting this place? The ghosts of a five-year-old and his seven-year-old sister, who didn’t even die in here? Some haunting. It’s your overactive imagination putting you through hell, and you’ve got proof – your shitty ex-boyfriend Takami Keigo is very much alive, and your mind’s been telling you that one of the laughing voices belongs to him. If you were faced with a choice between a living Keigo and a ghost Keigo, you’d pick the ghost in a heartbeat. Ghosts can’t stalk you when you try to take a break from the relationship and enlist the entire town, police force included, to their cause. And you could probably exorcise him, which would be a lot easier than whatever you’d have to do to get rid of real Keigo for good.

The sounds get weirder, and they’re coming from all over the place – the ceiling above you, the hallway, the rooms on either side of yours, even inside the walls. Maybe you’ve got rats or something. You’ll ask Natsuo about that when he comes over tomorrow to clear leaves out of the gutters and branches off the roof. It’s fine if there’s rats tonight, right? You can take a rat in a fight. Probably even ten rats. You’re not going to get eaten alive by rats. Ghost Keigo could be dealt with. Rats can also be dealt with. It’s just your imagination. You need to get it together.

It's just past three in the morning, and you think the getting-it-together is going okay, when a particularly big gust of wind rattles the house. There’s a colossal bang from somewhere, but only one. The windows are shaking in their frames, producing an odd, warped sound, and somewhere beneath it, there’s another sound, a sound that’s got no place in this house. Someone’s crying. It doesn’t take much or any stretching of the imagination to convince yourself that it’s a kid.

You decide instantly that you’re not going to waste time trying to talk yourself out of it. You’ll go check on Tenko, confirm that Tenko is in fact still a doll and not a real boy, and then you’ll go to bed and sleep in as late as you damn well please.

The wood floors in the hallway are cold beneath your feet, but it’s only a short walk to Tenko’s room – and then you have to double back, because you don’t have a flashlight and the lights are out. You’re already spooked and already frustrated by the time you open the door to Tenko’s room, and when you open the door, you’re ready to be mad. You click on the flashlight, raise it, and pan it over the room. And then you freeze.

Tenko’s room is trashed. Multiple shelves have been overturned, toys and books spilling everywhere, and the curtains over the boarded-up window hang in tatters. The shade’s off the lamp on the nightstand, and the dresser drawers yawn open – or else they’ve been pulled free and scattered across the room. The sheets are askew on the bed, the bed itself shifted at a weird angle. Tenko is nowhere to be found.

“Tenko?” you say hesitantly. You pan the flashlight again, and for a split second, you see a shadow crouched atop Tenko’s bed, far too big to be the doll. You don’t need to see any more than that. You drop the flashlight and scream.

The storm drowns out your scream, and you run out of air eventually – and then you’re tired of it. Screaming’s not doing anything to help, and if the shadow was going to kill you, it would have done it by now. You crouch down and feel along the floor until you come up with the flashlight, which still works. You check the bed first, but there’s no shadow there. There never was. The only things in this house are you and Tenko, and neither of you was up on the bed like a gremlin five seconds ago. You keep looking for Tenko. He has to be in here somewhere.

And he is. You find him behind the door, Mon-chan in his arms, his knees drawn up to his chest. “Hi, Tenko,” you say, like a crazy person. “Did you get scared?”

He doesn’t answer, of course. Because he’s a doll. He’s a doll, and you’re crazy. Knowing that doesn’t stop you from looking around at the wreckage of the room, thinking about how scary it would be to have to go back to bed in here if you were a kid. Thinking about how you used to be scared of lightning and thunder – maybe still are. “If you’re still scared,” you start, “do you want to stay in my room for tonight?”

Five minutes later, you’re setting a line of pillows down the middle of your bed, leaving one half for you and one half for Tenko. And Mon-chan, because you felt less weird about inviting a doll to sleep in your bed if the doll has its plushie, too. Once you’ve got Tenko squared away, you block the door again. “It’ll be daylight soon,” you tell yourself. Then, to Tenko: “We’ll fix your room up and everything will be fine.”

Tenko’s eyes are open. His eyes are grey, like they are in the family portrait, with long lashes. You reach out and close their lids carefully. The chances that you’ll be able to get to sleep are slim, but they’re zero as long as you’ve got a doll staring at you.

“It’s weird, right?” you say anxiously as Natsuo scans the mess in Tenko’s room. Most of the Todoroki kids don’t come inside the house, but you managed to lure Natsuo inside by mentioning the really loud bang you heard last night. “The wind couldn’t have done this.”

“Not with all the windows boarded up, yeah.” Natsuo looks wary. “You sure you don’t sleepwalk or anything?”

“Never,” you say. “I just – it was like this when I came in.”

“This is creeping me out,” Natsuo says, but he doesn’t look away. He’s looking around the room. “Where’s Tenko?”

“I moved him. In there.” You nod toward your room. “Things got wild in here last night. I kept thinking I was hearing voices, or laughter – or kids crying –”

You sound like a lunatic, again. Why does everything that happens to you make you look and feel crazy? “Have any of the other nannies mentioned things like that?”

“No,” Natsuo says, backing away from Tenko’s room. He glances into your room again. “Hey, Tenko. What – wait, you found Mon-chan? I remember that thing.”

“Huh?”

“That used to be his favorite,” Natsuo says. “When he was alive.”

You didn’t get much sleep last night. You’re a little slow. “Wait, you knew him?”

“We all did. Hana, too.” Natsuo starts down the hall, aiming for the stairs to the third floor. “They’re the richest family in town, and our shitty bastard of a father only wanted us to associate with the best. We all played together.”

You wish somebody had told you that earlier. “What was he like?”

“I don’t really remember,” Natsuo says with a shrug. “I was four. Touya would know better. You should ask him.”

He disappears up the stairs, and you chase after him. You don’t spend a lot of time on the top floor – it’s the master bedroom, and Mr. Shimura’s study, and a lot of stuff you feel like you shouldn’t get involved with. Natsuo doesn’t seem to have the same problem. “The attic’s open,” he calls. You climb the last few steps. “I bet the thud you heard was the trapdoor coming down.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” The trapdoor and ladder look heavy enough to produce the sound. “Can you fix it?”

“I’d have to climb up in there.” Natsuo looks really wary now. Out of the three older Todoroki siblings, he’s the one who’s least comfortable with coming into the house. “How about you climb up and look at the hinges? I’ll tell you what to look for, and I’ll come up if there’s anything wrong.”

You don’t want to go up in the attic, either, but you also want to make sure this doesn’t happen again. You nudge past Natsuo and climb the ladder into the musty dimness of the attic. Dimness, not darkness – there’s a skylight, the first window on the upper floors of the house that’s not boarded up completely. The attic itself is cluttered and dusty, but there aren’t any cobwebs that you can see. Small favors.

You crouch down by the trapdoor. “Okay. What am I looking for?”

Natsuo tells you, but even without his instructions, you probably could have figured it out. One hinge has been completely sheared away, dangling by one barely-there screw. Natsuo climbs up to study it with you, frowning. “This doesn’t look like metal fatigue. And the wood’s still in good condition. I don’t understand why it would just break.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah,” Natsuo says. “You have to stick around, though. I’m not staying up here alone.”

“Fair enough.”

While Natsuo works, you investigate the rest of the attic, trying not to sneeze and create a dust storm. At least half the attic is taken up by objects labeled as belonging to “Mom”, but they’ve been there way too long to be referring to Mrs. Shimura. You blow some dust off of a big picture frame to see what’s inside and find yourself looking at a poster that could be from a circus. The background is black and yellow and grey, the lettering ornate but still legible. Psychopomp, Medium, Illusionist: See the Spectacular Shimura Nana!

The next picture frame in line has a picture of Shimura Nana herself, and it’s immediately clear to you where Mr. Shimura got his looks from. Shimura Nana is gorgeous, dark-haired and grey-eyed with a bright, almost cocky smile on her face, and there’s a birthmark just below the corner of her mouth that looks familiar. When you think about people who can talk to the dead, you don’t think of them as looking this happy.

You carry both picture frames back to Natsuo. “Did you know their grandma was a magician?”

“No.” Natsuo glances at the frames, then flinches, almost dropping his screwdriver. “Shit. If I were you, I’d get out of here.”

You raise your eyebrows, and Natsuo gives you an exasperated look. “Somebody who could talk to the dead used to live here. The people who own this place have a doll that they treat like their dead son. And last night something trashed their dead son’s room. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? This place is haunted.”

“Don’t say that. I have to live here.”

“It’s gonna be haunted whether I say it or not.” Natsuo gives you a weird look. “Is it just the money thing? There are other ways to get money.”

“It’s not just money. I have to stay out of the way,” you say. “There’s this guy – my ex – he’s a cop –”

Natsuo’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I get it,” he says. “Our piece-of-shit old man is a cop. Our mom couldn’t get away, either.”

Your stomach drops. You know cops talk to each other. “Please don’t tell your dad that I’m –”

“Are you kidding? I barely talk to him. No way am I telling him that.” Natsuo says. He glances at you. “I get why you feel like you have to stay here. This place is still haunted.”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t know what’s haunting it – Tenko’s ghost, his sister’s ghost, his grandma’s ghost, or all three plus however many ghosts Shimura Nana summoned to hang out with her – but you have the same thought you had last night, and this time, you say it out loud. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.”

You get Tenko’s room reordered, and when the next storm comes, it doesn’t get trashed again. Then again, you go and grab the doll from the room the second you hear the first clap of thunder – not because you really think there’s a scared five-year-old ghost haunting it, but just to be safe. That same night, you retrieve Tenko’s schedule from where you abandoned it a month ago and read over it. Again, just to be safe.

It’s not that bad of a schedule, really. It’s not that weird. Most of it just involves moving Tenko from place to place around the house. You’d probably want a change of scenery, too, if you were a ghost haunting a doll. You don’t mind playing him music, but you play stuff you like, at a volume that’s a little less than earsplitting. You don’t mind reading aloud, so long as you’re reading your own books, and editing out the parts that aren’t kid-appropriate on the fly. And because he’s just there, and he’s not going to give you any feedback, it’s okay to think out loud.

At first it’s just whatever thought pops into your head, but as the days slip past in the second month of your stay at the Shimura house, you find that you’re getting into some stuff you haven’t talked about with anyone. And then, one day when you’re in the kitchen making your own dinner and setting out a plate for Tenko that you’ll inevitably throw away, you find yourself talking about something you swore you never would.

“I used to be a big sister,” you tell him. “Not like you and Hana. A bigger sister. My brother was five years younger than me, and he was my parents’ favorite, right from the start. That always used to confuse me. They liked him better even before he did anything.”

Confused is downplaying it. You were hurt. You still are, when you scratch the surface even a centimeter down. “I wanted to be a good sister, but it seemed like everything I did was wrong. I played too rough, or else I wasn’t playing with him at all. I didn’t share my toys, or I gave him toys he wasn’t supposed to have – and when I took them back, he’d always yell. And then my dad would yell. And I’d cry. But my brother was crying, too. And my mom always went to him.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Tenko. He’s sitting and waiting, like always, expression still and remote. You can’t look at him and say this next part. “When it happened, I was nine,” you say. “He was four. I was playing marbles, and he kept trying to grab them from me. He could talk by then – a lot – so I made a deal with him. He could pick any marble he wanted to play with, and let me have the rest of them. So he picked one – this big shooter, my favorite. Right out of my hand.”

The echo of your nine-year-old self’s anger still echoes through you, made all the more sickening by what happened next. “I tried to get it back, and he stuffed it in his mouth so I couldn’t. And then he started choking.”

You couldn’t get it out. You tried, screaming for help the whole time, but nothing you did made any difference. Nothing your mom did made any difference, either, and your baby brother was blue by the time the ambulance got there. Your parents didn’t blame you. You thought they were going to. You expected them to. But in their version of the story, you were barely there. You were their only kid again, and they couldn’t afford to hate you. Your brother grabbed the marble and swallowed it, and choked, and died. You just happened to be there. It wasn’t your fault.

But it was. You were the one who offered any marble he wanted. You should have known he’d pick the one you were holding – one that was too big to fit down his throat, one he’d try to keep away from you at any cost once he had it. You’re the one who couldn’t save him, and thinking about it doesn’t even make you cry. You’d say it makes you feel sick, but sick is too small of a word for the hollowness inside you. The place where you used to be a sister. The place where you used to be good.

“Today’s his birthday,” you tell Tenko, dry-eyed. “You’d be twenty-two like me if you were here for real, and he’d be seventeen, and I never told anybody that I gave the marble to him until just now. I don’t even know why I told you. I guess I thought you should know that it’s a good thing you’re not a real kid. Because I really don’t have great luck with those.”

You set Tenko’s plate down in front of him, knowing the food won’t be touched, then turn away to fill yours. When you turn back, the entire plate is gone.

You’ve gotten comfortable with the fact that the Shimura house is haunted. As comfortable as it’s possible to be when you don’t know exactly what’s haunting it. You put up with weird sounds at night, and with things being moved around, and you put up with some of your stuff going missing – but a whole plate of food vanishing because you turned around for two seconds? Nope. Not a chance. “Put it back.”

“He knows.”

You almost drop your plate, then tighten your grip. You’re losing it, officially, but you’ll be damned before you drop a bunch of food all over the floor. If you’re going to the mental hospital, you’re going well-fed. “I didn’t hear anything,” you say aloud. “I’ve just been talking to myself. That’s it.”

You stuff one bite, two bite, three bites of food into your mouth, and something speaks again. “Your brother. He knows.”

It’s not a little kid’s voice. Not the voice you’d imagine for Tenko as a ghost – but it doesn’t not sound like Tenko. It keeps talking. “He knows you tried to save him. And it matters that you tried.”

“How do you know?” Your voice rattles around the question, and there’s no answer. The strange voice doesn’t speak again, and the plate doesn’t reappear. “Please –”

“He knows,” the voice says. “He’d forgive you. If there was anything to forgive.”

The hollow place inside you has been there so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have anything there. When something floods backs in, it hits with such violence that it drives all the air from your lungs. You shove your plate to one side and double over, gasping for breath. Your eyes burn and your throat closes, and before you know it, you’re crying.

You don’t really cry. Keigo always said something was wrong with you, that you didn’t show your feelings and he wasn’t sure you even had them. Crying feels awful. The headache it generates is all-encompassing, and you put your head down on the kitchen table and shut your eyes, waiting for it to stop. It seems like it’ll never end, and somewhere amidst the pain and embarrassment and relief, you find a shred of hate in your heart for Keigo. You never cried in front of him? He never made you feel anything worth crying about.

When the crying stops, the headache remains, and you sit up, rubbing at the crick in your neck. You must have fallen asleep; it’s dark outside, and the kitchen’s gloomy along with it. Not gloomy enough, though. Not so gloomy that you can’t see Tenko’s plate sitting back in front of him, wiped perfectly clean. The glass of water you poured for him is empty, too. And something clicks into place in the back of your head, only slightly warped by the headache.

Hana has a shrine. Hana’s shrine has offerings on it. Maybe the food you leave for Tenko is an offering, too. “Did you like this?” you ask. Your voice sounds awful. “I can make it again sometime.”

You have to start paying more attention to what Tenko eats, if he eats any of it. It’s the least you can do, after what he told you today. Even if it isn’t true, even if the ghost haunting the Shimura house decided to tell you a lie, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to think about your brother without feeling like you’re the one being choked to death. That’s worth a meal or two, in your opinion. You might actually need to learn how to cook.

You clear Tenko’s plate away, and on an impulse, lean down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you,” you say. It feels weird to be kissing a doll, especially when you’ve been skipping the goodnight kiss so religiously, but this is a special occasion. “I feel better now.”

“Wow, have you lost it,” Touya says, laughing. He drops the groceries on the far end of the kitchen table, well away from where you and Tenko are eating lunch. “You know he can’t eat, right? He’s a doll.”

“I know. But he’s dead, so it’s like – an offering,” you say. “Since he doesn’t have a real shrine.”

“Yeah,” Touya remarks. He opens the fridge and starts shoving things in haphazardly. “Real nice piece of work on his dad’s part.”

That reminds you of something Natsuo said a while back, something you’ve been meaning to ask Touya about. “Your brother said you all knew the Shimuras. That you played together. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My assclown father and their assclown father both fell out of the same assclown tree.” Touya shuts the refrigerator, then opens the freezer. “We’d play together sometimes. Go to the birthday parties and shit. Hana went to the same school as me and Fuyumi. That’s about it.”

He glances sideways at you. “Natsuo said you were going to ask. What do you want to know?”

“What were they like?”

“Hana – she was cool. Nothing threw her off, and nothing kept her down. Everybody liked her. Even my shitheap father, which is really saying something.” Touya shuts the freezer, too, and turns to face you. “Tenko, though – he was kind of a crybaby. Everything made that kid cry. Didn’t matter if it was good or bad. If he had a feeling for longer than two seconds, there went the waterworks.”

You didn’t have a real idea of Tenko’s personality in your head. You had what Mrs. Shimura told you – shy, sweet, playful – but you threw out most of what she said on principle because she was saying it about a doll. “He was a lot,” Touya continues, “but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. It makes it kind of hard to believe the official story about what happened.”

“The official story,” you repeat. “The Shimuras just said it was an accident.”

“Yeah, they would.” Touya leans back against the kitchen table. “Both their kids drown in the well on the same day? Better be an accident.”

Your stomach lurches. “They drowned?”

“Both of them.” Touya pats his pocket, then comes up with a pack of cigarettes, followed by a lighter. “There are three schools of thought about what happened, and they all start with the well cover. I can take you out to look and prove it, but trust me when I say that thing’s a bitch – 20kg at least. The first school of thought says that Tenko got the well cover open and fell in, and when Hana heard him calling for help, she ran to help and fell in, too. And they both drown in there.”

You don’t understand why they need more than one school of thought. The first one is awful enough. “The second school of thought says somebody else opened the well cover and both kids fell in – and in that case, the question is who? The third one says that Tenko opened it himself and pulled Hana in after him. Guess which one the Shimuras went with.”

“They think he opened a 20kg well cover so he could drown himself in it and decided to take Hana with him, too?” You can barely believe it. You can’t imagine ascribing that kind of malice to a little kid. “I mean – I never met them, obviously, but – I don’t think he would –”

“I did meet him, and I don’t think so either. None of us do,” Touya says. He glances around the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Tenko for a second before drifting back to you. “Something really fucked up happened here. Fucked up things happen in the house I grew up in all the time, but not like this.”

He’s frowning. “My dad plays favorites, but he’s indifferent to the rest of us. Hana’s dad hated Tenko. You could tell.”

“How?”

“Because Hana wasn’t scared of him. Tenko was.” Touya lights his cigarette and takes a drag. “I wouldn’t spend too long thinking about it, if I were you.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to not think about it,” you say. You wish you’d asked what happened to Tenko and Hana sooner. “Is that why they’ve only got the one shrine?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” Touya shrugs, then heads over to the pantry to start unpacking the dry goods one-handed. “I can tell you this, though. When they went down into that well to get the kids out, they only found one body. And it wasn’t his.”

As if this couldn’t get more horrible. Picturing the children’s bodies floating together in the cramped quarters of the well is bad enough, but picturing just Hana, knowing that Tenko’s lost somewhere in the depths, never to be found – your skin crawls. You start unpacking the dry goods alongside Touya, trying to get through it quickly so he’ll leave. You need to be alone to think about this. You can’t talk to Tenko about it while someone else is here.

“One more thing,” Touya says under his breath. “Natsuo told me and Fuyumi about the thing. Dad cornered Fuyumi on it and she caved. So –”

So now a cop here knows that you’re hiding out from another cop. Your hands shake so badly that you drop the bag of rice you’re trying to put away. “Keep it together,” Touya warns. “We fucked up but we’re fixing it. The brat’s going to keep his ear to the ground, and we’ll keep an eye out. You should get as much advance warning as you need.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us,” Touya says. “Just think about what you’re going to do when the Shimuras get back.”

Right. You can’t stay here forever. It’s not like the Shimuras are going to let you keep taking care of Tenko when they’re here to do it themselves. Your expenses here are zero. By the time they come back home, you’ll have saved a lot of money, enough to do – something. Like get out of the country and never look back. Or hire someone to put a hit on Keigo so you never have to look over your shoulder again. Either way, you’ll be getting out of here. And you won’t see Tenko – or hang out with his ghost – ever again.

The thought shouldn’t make you sad, but it does. But nothing could possibly make you sadder than the thought of the Shimura kids trapped in the well. No matter how they got there.

Some part of you knew it couldn’t last – the part of you that’s familiar with the kind of guy you almost married, the one who always gets what he wants and can’t take no for an answer. Some part of you always knew Keigo would find you. But you weren’t prepared for what it would feel like to actually see him standing inside the kitchen of the Shimura household, surrounded by grocery bags and wearing a self-satisfied grin. You’d stammered out a question about what he was doing here, and Keigo smiled at you. “The police chief here’s a good guy. He let me know that his kids handle some of the work around here, and I offered to bring the groceries by so we’d have a chance to talk alone.”

He’d nodded meaningfully at Tenko, who you were holding. “We are alone, right? That’s just a creepy doll.”

You said yes, if only because you didn’t want Tenko anywhere near whatever you and Keigo were going to talk about. And now you’re in your room, under Keigo’s watchful eyes, packing up to leave.

The door to Tenko’s room is closed, but you’d be crazy to assume that his ghost couldn’t hear you no matter where you are in the house. “I can’t just leave,” you say for the millionth time. “This is my job. I made a commitment.”

“To take care of a human child. Not a doll.” Keigo is smiling, but his eyes are hard and glinting. “Getting out of here with me is the sanest thing anybody in your position can do. He’ll be fine.”

“No,” you say. Keigo raises his eyebrows. “They’ll be back in a month. Let me finish doing my job, and then I’ll come back.”

Keigo shakes his head. “I’m worried about your mental health. When I talked to the police chief here, and he told me his kids were helping you take care of a porcelain doll in a big house with boarded-up windows, I got even more worried. And I don’t want to be the one to break this to you, but the Shimuras were never planning to come back.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Keigo reaches into his back pocket and produces a letter – one that’s clearly been addressed to Shimura Tenko, and one that’s already been opened. “Hey. You can’t just open people’s mail.”

“If it’s linked to illegal activity, I can do whatever I want.” Keigo slides the letter out of the envelope and clears his throat. “Dear Tenko, We are heartbroken to tell you that we will not be returning home. We can no longer live with what you have become. The girl is yours – the girl. That’s you, right?”

You can’t think of who else it would be. Keigo keeps reading, projecting his voice. “The girl is yours. She is yours to love and care for. May we all be forgiven. Yours, Mother and Father.” He lowers the letter, raises his eyebrows. “They’re sacrificing you to the memory of their dead son. You know, the one who was so sick and crazy he drowned himself just so he could drown his own sister?”

“That’s not what happened,” you say. Keigo laughs at you. “Shut up! You weren’t here –”

“Neither were you,” Keigo says. “I’ve read the police reports. The statements from the parents –”

“The ones Touya’s dad took?” You remember Touya and Natsuo comparing their dad to Tenko’s dad, and not in Mr. Shimura’s favor. “Sure. I guess they have to cover up for each other, or none of them would get away with it.”

“Okay. That’s it.” Keigo lifts the last pile of clothes out of your arms, drops them unceremoniously into your suitcase, and zips it shut. “The sooner you get out of this house, the better. We need to be far away from here by the time it comes out.”

“By the time what comes out?”

“This isn’t just the Shimuras’ goodbye letter, it’s their suicide note. Their bodies were recovered yesterday.” Keigo looks almost gleeful in the always-dim light of the Shimura house. Or maybe you really are just losing your mind. “Lawyers are going to be all over this place any day now. Let’s go.”

He pulls the suitcase off the bed with one hand, then grabs your arm with the other. “Come on. Don’t make this so difficult –”

“Give me the letter,” you say hopelessly. “I want to read it to Tenko.”

“You want to read a letter to a doll.” Keigo looks skeptical. “What’s that going to do?”

You invent something on the fly. “Closure.”

“Closure?” Keigo repeats. “Huh. I guess if it keeps you from fixating on this the way you fixate on everything else, sure. Go read the doll his parents’ suicide letter.”

Despair keeps your footsteps heavy as you make your way across the hall into Tenko’s room. You settled him on the bed with Mon-chan, like always, and you sit down on the end of the bed, the same as you do when you read him a bedtime story. “Tenko,” you start. “Um, I have to go. And I have something to tell you. I feel like you should hear it from me and not somebody else.”

You lay out the situation carefully, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry to leave like this. I don’t want to, but Keigo’s here, and he says –”

“Don’t want to?”

You haven’t heard the ghost’s voice since it talked to you about your brother. “I don’t want to,” you say. “Keigo says I have to.”

“Don’t make me sound like a dictator. I want what’s best for you,” Keigo says from the doorway. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

“No.”

That was audible. Keigo should be able to hear it. “Keigo, did you hear –”

“You talking to yourself? Yeah.” Keigo grabs your arm, yanks you sharply away from the bed. “You went crazier than I thought in here, huh?”

“No.”

This time Keigo hears it. You can see it in his face. A split second later, the lights go out.

Keigo’s grip on your arm tightens. There’s a crash from somewhere else in the house, and his grip tightens further. He drags you out of Tenko’s room through the darkened house. “Did you plan this or something?” he asks you as you stumble down the stairs after him. “It’s a good show. If you put this much effort into making our relationship work –”

“NO.” The lights in the front hall switch on, revealing something standing dead center in the hallway, between you and the way out.

Keigo curses and rocks back a step, but you know instantly what you’re looking at, who you’re looking at. “No,” Shimura Tenko says. “No means no.”

Tenko doesn’t look very much like the doll anymore. His grey eyes are red, and his black hair is white, but you recognize his features. They’re the same ones from the doll, from the family portrait, from your memories his parents and the poster you saw of his grandmother. He’s thin, almost skeletal, his hands and limbs spiderlike. He looks filthy, and his clothes are ragged. If you’d had a nightmare of what might haunt this house the first night you moved in, it would have looked exactly like this.

You’re looking at Shimura Tenko. Shimura Tenko’s supposed to have been dead for seventeen years. You don’t know how or why he’s here, but you know one thing, one thing that’s been true since you realized the Shimura house was haunted: You’d rather take your chances with a ghost. “I don’t want to leave,” you say to Tenko, ignoring Keigo when he orders you to be quiet. “I promised I would stay.”

Tenko’s crimson gaze shifts from you to Keigo. “She stays,” he says in that strange, not-quite-human voice. “You leave.”

Keigo laughs. “Sorry, I don’t think you get it. We’re leaving. You’re staying right where you are.”

He starts down the hall again, your efforts to fight free barely making a skip in his stride. The front door opens a crack behind Tenko, and you can see a white-haired someone peering through. One of the Todorokis, maybe Touya or Natsuo who promised they’d warn you if they saw Keigo coming. Touya points at you, beckons. “I’m going to tell you this one more time,” Keigo is saying to Tenko. “Get out of the –”

Tenko lunges at him. Keigo lets go of you. And you run straight out the front door, down the front steps. Past the Todoroki siblings. As far and as fast as your legs will carry you, until you trip on something, hit your head on something else, and black out on the ground.

Smoke stings your nasal passages, and you wake up coughing. Someone is breathing raggedly next to you, and someone else is shaking your shoulder. “Come on,” Natsuo is saying under his breath. “Come on, come on –”

“No, be careful, she hit her head –” Fuyumi is patting your hand. “If you can hear us, we need you to wake up. It’s Tenko.”

Tenko, the doll? No, Tenko the – whatever he is. The thing that’s alive. The thing that’s real enough to challenge Keigo to a fight. You sit up with the worst headache you’ve had in maybe your entire life and look around. The grounds of the Shimura estate are eerily backlit, and when you glance over your shoulder, you see that the Shimuras’ house is in flames. “What – happened?”

“Tenko killed the cop,” Natsuo says. You look blankly at him. “Touya said we should burn down the house to hide it, and we thought Tenko understood. But then he went back inside.”

“He won’t come out,” Fuyumi says. “Touya’s been yelling for him, but he’s not responding. If we don’t get him out soon he’ll die. If he won’t listen to Touya, then –”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you,” Natsuo says. His expression twists. “He used to be normal. What happened to him?”

You don’t have a clue. Tenko’s alive. Somehow, some part of him – something that looks like him, or is him, or answers to his name. Tenko’s alive, and Keigo is dead, and that’s so difficult to process that your mind skips straight past it. Or tries to. Tenko is alive, and Keigo is dead because Tenko killed him, and for some reason Touya thought it was a good idea to try to burn down the Shimura house. You squeeze your eyes shut and try your hardest to compartmentalize. You can’t stop the house from burning. You can’t bring Keigo back to life. But there is someone alive in there. You can do something about that.

You get to your feet unsteadily and turn back towards the house. The top floor is in flames, light flickering behind the boarded-up windows, and although there’s smoke flooding the grounds, the lower floors of the house look clear of fire. It’s safe for you to go in. Safe enough. You duck past Touya, who’s been hollering up at the windows for Tenko to get “his creepy man-spider ass” out here, and in through the front door. And from there you have no idea what to do.

If you knew anything about who Tenko really is, you’d know where to look. The habits of doll Tenko tell you absolutely nothing. When he’s moved, or been moved, there’s no rhyme or reason to where he’s ended up – except for one time, the first time the doll ever moved from the place you left it. You climb the stairs, turn down the hall, dart past your room. The door to Tenko’s is open, the room itself trashed all over again. The only thing still in place is Mon-chan, sitting on the bed.

You grab it, in case it helps. Then you turn back to the place you found Tenko last time, and sure enough, he’s there. Right behind the door. But while doll Tenko could conceal himself perfectly in the space, the real Tenko is too tall and gangly. Even hunched in on himself with his knees drawn to his chest, there’s an elbow sticking out of the shadows in one spot, a foot sticking out in the another. His red eyes stare out blankly through the tangle of matted white hair. He’s not moving except to cough.

You’re coughing, too. It’s hard to speak. “Tenko, come on,” you say. “It’s not safe anymore. It’s time to go.”

“Dead.” His voice sounds even less human now. “They left me.”

His parents. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay here,” you say. “You don’t have to die because they did. You can come with me.”

There’s blood on Tenko’s hands, on his clothes. It’s smeared on the lower half of his face, draining from his nose and from a cut on his forehead. You pull your sleeve down over your hand, reach forward, and wipe it away, clamping down on the shiver that runs through you when he turns his head against your hand. “Come with me,” you say again, and he shakes his head. “Okay. Then move over.”

Tenko looks up, startled. “I said I didn’t want to leave you,” you say. “I meant it.”

You were wondering, all this time, if you’d know you’d finally lost your mind when it happened. The answer is yes, and the magical thing about losing your mind is that you don’t care all that much. The ex-boyfriend you were running from is dead. The house you were staying in is burning to the ground. You’ve spent the last three months taking care of a doll in a house you thought was haunted by a ghost, only to realize that everything you’ve been doing for the doll, you’ve been doing for the man it was modeled after, too. The world is upside down, twisted, backwards. Nothing and everything make sense right now.

“Either we both go,” you say, coughing harder now, “or we both stay. It’s up to you.”

You pull your hand back from wiping at his face and hold it out for him to take. He looks at it, then at you, and you wonder what he’s thinking. You wonder if he’s even scared of dying, if dying matters to something like him, whatever he is. If he really is Tenko, he’s died once before already, hasn’t he? Is it any harder to die again? Whether it is or not, Tenko doesn’t seem interested in finding out. He takes your hand, lets you pull him to his feet, and then yanks you out into the hall himself.

The air is thick and grey, and the flames are catching up, but Tenko’s fast as he drags you down the hall to the stairs. You stumble over a body at the base of them and make the mistake of looking at the face. Or what’s left of the face. Tenko doesn’t let you look for long. He pulls you past Keigo’s body to the front door and shoves you out of it – and then, before he can retreat, Natsuo and Touya seize him by his arms and yank him out after you.

The four of you tumble down the steps, landing in a heap in the driveway. Tenko is coughing, a wet, horrible sound, and while you’re able to get to your feet, he barely moves. You and the Todorokis have to drag him away from the house, down the driveway until all you can see of the house is the pillar of flames billowing up from the roof. You stop to catch your breath, and the others stop, too. You and Fuyumi, Touya and Natsuo, and Tenko sprawled on the ground between you.

It’s quiet for a second. “Wow,” Touya says to Tenko. “You’re even weirder-looking than I remember. And you reek.”

Fuyumi smacks him. Natsuo’s got bigger things to worry about. “What are we going to do with him?” he demands. “If that’s even him. If it’s some kind of monster that’s bad enough. If it’s him, he’s been dead for seventeen years – and he just killed a guy!”

“That guy was a fuckweasel,” Touya says. He glances at you. “Right?”

You don’t want to say yes. “He wasn’t a very nice guy,” you say, and Touya snorts. “I was scared of him.”

“And you’re not scared of that?” Natsuo demands.

“He’s not a that,” you say. “He’s –”

You don’t really know what. Tenko bleeds red like a human. Based on the way Tenko was yanking you around, he’s really strong. He’s so thin that he’s almost a skeleton, and he smells like he hasn’t showered in seventeen years. But whatever he is, he’s alive. That’s where you’ll start from. “He’s Tenko,” you say finally, for lack of a better way to phrase it. “I don’t know what his deal is, but I’m not scared of him right now. If I do get scared, I’ll deal with it then. I’m not leaving him here.”

“No one thinks we should do that,” Fuyumi reassures you. “We just need to think of where to put him. I know a place.”

It’s quiet for a second. “No,” Touya says suddenly. “He’s not staying at my place.”

“Just for tonight,” Fuyumi urges. “We can sneak him in now – Dad won’t be back for hours, he’ll be coming to investigate this – and clean him up before we figure out what to do with him.”

“She can stay there, too,” Natsuo says, nodding at you. “If Dad comes by, she can answer the door, and Dad will be so thrilled at the idea that you’re having straight sex that he won’t bother you for a week.”

Touya snickers at that. “Fine,” he says to Tenko. Then, to you: “You can borrow some of my clothes for him, but I’m not helping you give him a bath.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say. The idea of giving doll Tenko a bath felt so weird that you never did it. The idea of giving adult Tenko a bath is less weird but still something you aren’t looking forward to. You can hear sirens in the distance. “We should go now.”

Tenko’s semiconscious as you and the Todorokis load him into Touya’s car. Nobody wants to sit in the back with him, but someone has to, so you and Tenko have the backseat to yourself while all three Todorokis jam together up front. Tenko buckles his own seatbelt, but as soon as Touya pulls onto the main road, he unbuckles himself and crawls across the backseat towards you. You retreat, but there’s only so far you can go. “Uh –”

“Guys, he’s climbing on her!” Natsuo’s keeping an eye on you. “Leave her alone!”

Touya meets your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Need me to pull over?”

You shake your head. Tenko’s settling into the seat next to yours, and he buckles himself again before twisting sideways to face you. He looks awful, and somehow worse than that, he looks scared. You can’t tell if it’s a childish fear or not. Tenko hasn’t left his house in seventeen years – it wouldn’t surprise you if he was agoraphobic. And if you’d just left the only home you’d ever known in flames behind you, you’d be scared, too.

And you remember what Tenko said to you, after you told him what happened to your brother. He probably wasn’t talking to your brother from the beyond. But if the story Touya and the others believe about how Hana and Tenko ended up in the well is true, Tenko knows how it feels to have an older sister who tried to save him. Maybe it’s still okay for you to believe that your brother, wherever he is, feels the same way, too. Tenko didn’t have to give you that, but he did.

You open your arms slightly, and Tenko collapses forward into them, his spiderlike hands grabbing fistfuls of your shirt and hanging on tight. He’s too tall to hide his face in your shoulder, like he seems to want to do. His mouth ends up pressed against your ear instead. “I’m not a doll anymore,” he says. His voice is roughened with smoke, but there’s a softness to it, incongruous enough to make your skin crawl. “I can take care of you, too.”

It could be a child’s innocent insistence on fairness, a man’s confident assertion, a monster’s implicit threat. As Touya’s car speeds down the road, you come to the conclusion that it might be all three at once, and something more – the promise of a lover, sealed by cracked, bloody lips pressing against your cheek.

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 19: Spare Moments

Prompt: "This is getting ridiculous"

For the anon who asked for a story where Mulder and Scully are bowling. Bonus points for them eating hot dogs. Rating: T, wc: 1,008.

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

They’re not on a date. She repeats the words in her head like a mantra. This isn’t a date; it can’t be.

Or is it a date?

She steals glances at Mulder, sipping his beer, chatting with the Gunmen, and occasionally checking up on her. They’re just two friends hanging out at a bowling alley. There’s nothing unusual about it at all. She takes a sip from her own beer at the exact moment that Mulder looks over at her. He’s smiling hard, his face devoid of worry.

But maybe it’s a date, after all.

After Mulder's impromptu baseball lesson, she went through the same spiel last week. Had that been a date? Was him asking her to join the Gunmen and a few others for a friendly game of bowling a date? She hasn’t been this mystified by matters of the heart since she was 16 years old and waiting for the boy she liked to ask her out. Mulder hasn’t asked her out, has he?

“You want a hot dog, Scully?” She’s been so tangled in her thoughts that she hasn’t noticed Mulder walk up to her. He sits down and their legs press together.

“What?”

“A hot dog. Frohike says they sell the best hot dogs he’s ever had here. I don’t know how accurate that description is, but you do look dazed, and I didn’t want to be a bad d- friend.”

She stares at him, wondering what word he just stumbled over, and whether he’s been having similar thoughts to hers.

“I wouldn’t mind a hot dog.” His face lights up and there’s that smile again. “It’s almost your turn, though.” She points at the board where their names are written down. They’re on the same team. Langly tried to split them up, but neither Mulder nor Frohike would stand for it.

I’ll be quick,” he promises, touching her shoulder in passing as he rushes over to the snack bar.

“Where is lover boy going?” Her eyes following Mulder, Scully is surprised to see Frohike take the place next to her.

“To get hot dogs,” Scully replies.

“They’re good,” Frohike says and she gets the feeling he wants to say more. But true to his word, Mulder returns a moment later, a hot dog in each hand.

“I hope you’re right about these.” Mulder hands one of the hot dogs to Scully and takes a bite from his own. “Well, you weren’t wrong,” he says with his mouth full.

“Mulder, you’re up,” Langly yells, holding out a bowling ball to him. Still chewing, he hands his hot dog to Scully.

“Can you hold this?” he asks with a grin and she just nods. She watches as he takes the ball and effortlessly throws a strike. Byers – as part of their team – cheers and claps. Mulder, however, only has eyes for Scully. His grin is victorious and sweeter than any dessert she’s ever sampled.

“Your hot dog,” she says at the same time as he says, “did you see that?” They realize their faux pas and laugh, grinning at each other.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Frohike says with a snort. Until now, she’d forgotten he was sitting next to her. “Get it together, you two. This is a family place.” He stomps off to the ball rack, searching for one that works for him.”

“I still have your hot dog,” Scully tries again, trying to ignore what their friend just said.

“Thank you,” Mulder says, but instead of taking it from her hand, he lowers his head, and bites a piece off, smiling up at her. All she can do is stare at him, speechless. “Bowling fingers,” he says, wriggling them at her before he takes the food from her hand.

“It’s good, isn’t it? Frohike was right.” She’s telling the truth, but she no longer feels hungry. What did Frohike mean? What does this evening mean? This isn’t the first time she’s been invited to join Mulder and the Gunmen. Yet, it feels like something has shifted. It had shifted before their baseball lesson. Before, they’d move at a glacial pace and now they’re speeding ahead. It’s giving her whiplash.

“He was right,” Mulder says, his voice so soft that she turns to face him. “About the hot dog, but also about this getting ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?” She swallows hard.

“Nothing, just-”

“Your turn, Scully.” It’s Frohike. Everyone is watching her as she hands Mulder the rest of her hot dog and she walks up to the ball rack. She finds her bowling ball easily enough; she’s got the smallest hands.

She takes a deep breath, calculates at what speed she should throw, and at what angle. If only her mind wasn’t so distracted. Mulder was about to say something just now. What is getting ridiculous? Is it them? Is this a date?

The bowling ball feels heavy in her hand, but not as heavy as her emotions somersaulting. She realizes that it doesn’t matter. What matters is how she interprets it.

The question is whether she wants this to be a date. She feels Mulder’s eyes on her back. He’s waiting for her to make a decision, too. In the end, it’s easier than she thought it would be. She throws the ball and holds her breath. Both teams erupt in joy as all the pins fall.

Strike.

She turns around, grinning, and the others cheer and holler. Mulder flashes her a smile, waiting for her to return to him.

“You’re amazing, Scully,” he says, breathless.

“Mulder, is this a date?” The words tumble from her mouth and the corner of his mouth switches.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you want it to be one or not.”

“What if I do?”

“Then it is one.”

“Good.” She grabs her hot dog from his hand, leaning into him. Her free hand hesitates before landing on his thigh – it might be new, but it feels right. In that moment, she decides that this is her space now, her quiet claim on him.

[ronearoundblindly]

Dominance & Sleepy Sex for Fools Rush In Steve! <3

Loved your most recent one with Curtis btw 😘🖤

💜💚💜

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed Curtis's dirty headcanon (for the legit-dirty man).

Now to FRI Steve, the tricky and ever-growing love of my life! Prompts from this dirty ask game.

While there are several stories in the Fools Rush In series that are suitable for all ages, this headcanon is not. MINORS DNI, please.

D - Dominance

This is a story of a very slow evolution. Steve develops excruciatingly over months and years in the FRI series--which I do love, for the record, I love to detail every little thing that makes him understand his body, his love, and how to show it--but that's for a reason.

He has the specific problem of his senses. It makes him a better soldier to feel less, be more immune to pain, and be affected very little by those hormone fluctuations in response.

Throughout Do You Two Fondue? and This All Day, we see him come into his own as a sexual partner. That blossoms further when he's finally married to Keeps (unlocking his first kink, sorta, when he gets to call you 'Mrs. Rogers' and 'my wife'), and throughout his isolation in Dignity of His Choice, Steve realizes he's not terrible for having fantasies and wanting sex.

He's...slow to initiate anything.

What I haven't gotten to write yet is Steve being exposed to a Hydra gas (sex pollen) that reduces him to his basest, most animalistic desires, and it takes a lot of therapy and talking to shake his learned-shame. He's been conditioned to believe things like dominance and anal can only ever be wrong/disrespectful to the one he loves. (It's important to specify that Steve holds himself to this standard and no one else.)

So, please enjoy a snippet where our soft!boi admits that he might be interested in more than his so-far-pretty-vanilla intimacies.

excerpt from Not A Perfect Soldier But A Good Man

“It’s still you and me, Steve. Doesn’t matter where and it doesn’t matter how. I feel just as safe and loved now as I did before. I know you think you hurt me, but I can’t watch you hurt yourself anymore.” “But I remember it.” His voice is so quiet you think he can barely hear it, but you’re so focused. Your hands cup his face and raise his jaw, but Steve won’t look at you. “We remember a lot of things th—“ “You don’t understand,” he interrupts, the words wet from his closing throat, his long lashes shimmering with tears he’s straining to keep squeezed in. “I…”  There’s a beat before Steve sobs one huge release and reins it back in just as fast. The whiplash of keeping himself together forces him to his knees, planting him right at your feet.�� He grabs your legs, pressing his forehead to your closed thighs. “I liked it,” he whispers, likely hoping he’s too far away and too quiet for you to hear. “God help me. I liked it.”

FRI Steve never becomes what I would classify as a Dom, however. He gets better at initiating and steering sex in a way he's excited about, but I can't see him regularly and entirely taking the lead in bed.

S - Sleepy Sex

The short answer: yes.

He gets much more comfortable with the slow and easy enjoyment of morning sex.

Please enjoy another snippet from the upcoming tale about soulmarks:

excerpt from Something Wrong Is Something Right

He drags a light few fingertips across your arm, making you shiver and snuggle into him more. There’s another faint whine before you bury your head in his pec and breathe deeply. Your heart rate increases. So does his. It’s a testament to how in-sync you two are now that before you even say a word or look up at him, your arm slides down his abs and you rock your hips closer to him. Ok, now Steve’s just plain excited. He loves morning sex. Tired-You turns into a rag doll in his arms and gets loud. He feels powerful and a touch controlling, but really it doesn’t take much to get both of you off even lazily when it’s this early. You let out that little sigh, the one that pairs with the perfect hug, but as Steve has learned over the years, it really pairs with any genuine embrace between you two. It’s contentment and freedom and the invitation he’s all too willing to receive.

(I couldn't fit it in because the snippet would be too long, but one thing I just melt over is that he's categorized your scent between three levels of arousal...which, I mean, oh my, fucking swoon, am I right??? No? Ro's a perv? Ok, yeah, that checks out.)

Steve does not usually wake you up already between your legs or anything; that's a bit aggressive for him. Like, he'll rub on you but won't put his tongue or cock in you until you're aware enough to look at him.

He's been given consent to, several times, but he enjoys the participation--sharing the experience--more than just the act of getting off.

Since in FRI, Steve is a super soldier, it's unlikely he's ever completely asleep if you are significantly moving around, so you can't surprise him with a blowjob. He is finicky about those. Again, that feels impersonal and distant compared to having his arms around you.

He goes for runs so early that Steve's amazed you two have as much morning sex as you do. It turns out that's a great way to make you tired enough to fall back asleep, and you can spread out happily on his still-warm spot while he heads to the gym. You can even shower with him when he returns! Yay!

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

This completes the TWENTY-SIX dirty asks from the past week. WOOHOOOOOO, we did it, gang!!! Now right back to the drawing board/notebook/multiple scrivener projects...anyway, you get it. Thanks for reading 💕

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Haunting Past (LU in Healthcare)

PLOT CHAPTER! :D You ready for emotional whiplash because I threw a snippet in there too?! Woot woot for wretched pacing but I don't care because I do what I want with this insanity LOL

(Click here to read on AO3)

Time stared at his phone.

Time Time Sky’s back He’s back and he’s ok

TIME TIME OH MY GOSH TIME IT’S SKY WARS AND I FOUND HIM HE’S ALIVE AND HE’S OK AND WE’RE HAVING ICE CREAM YOU GOTTA COME HERE LIKE NOW ASAP STAT STAT STAT ARE YOU LISTENING LOOK AT YOUR PHONE DAMN IT AND DON’T SAY “NO SWEARING” ORWHATEVS OK LIKE IT’S SKY

“Honey? What’s wrong?”

Taking a shaky breath, Time slowly sat on the sofa. He… didn’t really have words to say. The messages were from last night – he’d silenced his phone for dinner with Twilight and hadn’t bothered checking it until this morning.

Sky was alive?

“Link?” Malon prompted, sitting beside him.

He looked so worn thin, yet his smile shone just as brightly as always.

“Thank you,” Sky said, leaning in for a hug.

Time held him gently so as not to jostle his healing injury. “You’re welcome. Go to the barracks and get some sleep, Sky, some real sleep, okay? They shouldn’t be letting you on a helicopter anytime soon anyway. Enjoy the rest.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

Except he hadn’t. He never saw Sky again. No letter, no text, no explanation whatsoever. Sky had been released from the hospital after his wound and then he’d just vanished.

Time reread the texts and felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Sky?” Malon whispered as she looked at his phone. “I’ve heard that used as a nickname… you talked about him, a pilot from the war – one of your Lost Boys, right? You said he’d died.”

“I thought he must have,” Time muttered.

The couple sat in silence, and then Malon gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “Honey, this is amazing. You should reach out to them and see if you can find him.”

He thought he’d come to grips with everything. Sky had disappeared two years ago, after all.

Shakily pressing on the phone, he dialed Warriors’ number, but when he didn’t get a response, he remembered that Warriors was working today. Wind was in class, he knew that much.

That meant the kid would absolutely be goofing around on his phone.

Nugget, I need to know what happened. How did you find Sky? Where is he?

It took less than five seconds to see the little speech bubble appear, and he waited.

he said he’s staying somewhere close and works in the area

isn’t that crazy??? So cool

like I can’t believe he’s here!!!!!!

u want his #? I made him give it to us

“Yes,” Malon immediately said when Time hesitated. “Honey, come on, you should reach out to him!”

When Time still didn’t speak or type, Malon brought her energy down a little and hugged him instead.

This was just… overwhelming.

“I’ll make some breakfast. Take your time.” Malon finally said softly, kissing him on the cheek and heading for the kitchen.

Time sat still, alone and silent. And then, finally, he typed, Yes.

The doorbell rang, distracting him before Wind could reply, and he plopped the phone on the couch, filled with both anxiety and anticipation. Taking a steadying breath, he went to answer the door so Malon could keep cooking. He imagined… he imagined Sky’s number would be available once he got back to the sofa.

So what would he do? Call him? Text him? Do anything at all?

Why had Sky disappeared without a word if he was still alive? Did he not want to talk to them? None of it made sense. Sky was gentle and sweet, though far more mischievous than people realized, but he wasn’t cruel.

Shaking his head to focus on the moment, Time opened the door.

And saw Sky standing on his porch.

The pair stared at each other for an eternity. Time couldn’t even quite process who he was looking at. The always sleepy teenager had grown into a young man, more muscular yet more worn, smooth young face carrying traces of worry and stress, held heavy in the dark circles under his eyes. His jaw was set tightly, muscles pulled and stiff. His posture was rigid and tall, like a soldier, but holding a tension of anticipation, a defensiveness for a blow that hadn’t yet been struck. His brow was crinkled together, so obviously conveying anxiety.

The morning doves cooed gently as a breeze blew. The surrounding nature brought Time back to reality. He started to take a small step forward when Sky’s breath caught a little too sharply. His entire being screamed an apology, and Time could only fathom what it was for.

Sky’s eyes began to water, and he swallowed hard.

Time reached forward and dragged him into a hug.

XXX

Hyrule entered the bar, breathless and excited. He had just gotten off another 48 hour shift and he was ready to unwind with his friends. Four had mentioned that Legend brought a new friend along. Hyrule had heard about him the last time he’d been in the emergency department, but he hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet.

Catching sight of Four, he smiled and made his way to the table where his friend was sitting. Everyone was still in their scrubs, making Hyrule feel a little better about only changing his duty shirt so he wouldn’t be seen in a bar in his uniform. Four had his colorful hoodie on that he always wore outside of work when weather permitted (and the cold rain outside certainly permitted it), while Legend had a light blue beanie covering his blonde hair and then was in his usual crimson scrubs. There was a third person at the table, a blonde man in forest green scrubs with perfectly quaffed hair and a chiseled jawline. His eyes quickly snapped to Hyrule before the paramedic had even gotten within a few paces of the table, and their intensity made him a little nervous all of a sudden.

Four noticed the new guy’s scrutiny and followed his gaze, smiling in recognition. “Hey, Hyrule, you’re—”

Four’s smile turned upside down as he scrutinized Hyrule. “You’re soaking wet.”

Hyrule shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t expect the rain.”

“Where did you park?” Four asked skeptically. “Is it raining that hard?”

Hyrule fumbled for an answer hastily. “O-oh, I—not far, I—I decided to bike today.”

“You bike?” Legend questioned.

Hyrule smiled, elated and proud. “Yeah! I just got the bike last week!”

“Well look at you, being all healthy,” Legend snarked with a smile. “Come over here and sit down already, you’re being weird just standing there.”

Hyrule chuckled bashfully and made his way to the table. The new guy smiled in welcome, and his face and eyes warmed. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Warriors. You must be Hyrule?”

Hyrule nodded, smiling politely. “Yes, that’s right. Are you on in the STICU with Four?”

“ED,” he answered, sipping his drink.

“So how was your day?” Four asked the pair of emergency nurses.

“I got pissed on by a patient,” Warriors said dryly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss getting blood all over me from my trauma soldiers.”

Legend snorted, crossing his arms and smirking. “Welcome to civilian ER life.”

Hyrule gasped in realization. “You served in the military?”

Warriors nodded. “I was an army nurse and a soldier before that.”

“Were—did you serve during the civil war?”

Warriors’ smile grew a little strained, and he nodded.

Hyrule dropped it after that, sensing the change in atmosphere. “Well, I’m a paramedic! It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to meet the pretty boy,” Legend said dismissively, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, my day was great, had a DKA patient whose sugar was like nine hundred and then we got priapism guy again.”

Hyrule groaned. “Again? You’d think he’d learn after the first time.”

“Nope!” Legend quipped, cackling. “He’s gonna lose it if he isn’t careful.”

Everyone at the table shuddered. Hyrule looked at Four. “What about your day?”

Four shrugged good naturedly. “Not bad. My patient actually walked today and pain management was great, nobody called the behavioral response team and nobody got punched.”

Warriors propped his chin on his fist, bottle already empty. “Head injury patients are a beast.”

Four nodded sagely. “No kidding. So what brought you to Hyrule Hospital?”

Warriors shrugged. “Looking for a change of scenery. Friend recommended I come here after I left the army.”

“Yeah, get this,” Legend interjected, pointing to Warriors. “He and Time are old war buddies.”

“Time? Really?” Hyrule asked. He’d met the trauma surgeon a handful of times by now since Four and Legend were more familiar with him. He seemed very wise and kind, but also mysterious. Time didn’t talk about himself or his past; he asked others about themselves and talked about work, and by the end of the conversation Hyrule would leave and realize he hadn’t really learned a thing about the man. He never knew Time had been in the army.

Warriors nodded, his eyes warming at the mention of the surgeon. “Yes, he’s the one who recommended I come here.”

“What part of town are you settled in?” Legend asked. “I’ve got the whole city mapped out, so I know all the good spots in town for food and shopping and the like.”

“Northern side of town, Seer District.”

“Of course you’re in the swanky side of town,” Legend commented with another roll of his eyes.

“Well what about you?”

“Lorule District.”

Hyrule headed for the bar as the group chatted about different places in the city, smiling cheerfully at the lady behind the bar. “Hey Telma!”

“Hey, honey,” Telma greeted warmly before frowning. “You’re soaked to the bone.”

Hyrule chuckled, his shoulders rising in embarrassment. “Yeah. It’s okay, really.”

Thankfully, the barmaid didn’t push. Sighing and shaking her head, her smile returned as she asked, “The usual?”

Hyrule nodded eagerly, and happily accepted the glass of milk that Telma offered before skipping back to the table to rejoin his friends.

XXX

Twilight sighed in contentment as the fire crackled. Both he and Wild were off work for the next couple of days, and they’d decided the outdoors was far preferable to the ratty motel they’d been staying in.

Being new to the area, Twilight didn’t know the surrounding vicinity as well, but Wild had explored both the entire city and the wilderness around it.

“Camping was such a good idea,” Twilight remarked, leaning against a tree.

Wild hummed cheerily, belly full of some soup they’d packed along. “Maybe we could just live out here? Beats the motel.”

“It took us an hour and a half to drive out here. You want that commute?”

“I’ve heard of people driving that much from their homes!”

“Where are we going to shower?”

Wild squinted at the fire. “Pretty sure there’s a stream somewhere…”

Twilight laughed. “I’ll pass on that, heaven knows what’s in the water. I’m down for camping on our days off, though.”

There was a comfortable pause, and then Twilight’s curiosity got the best of him. “How did you find all these places, anyway? Have you just… been homeless for most of your life?”

Wild sighed and shrugged. “I got here with little recollection of how. Didn’t have much to go off of, either, so I made do.”

Twilight sat up a little more, growing confused and concerned. “What do you mean you don’t remember how you got here?”

“No here,” Wild said, motioning at the campsite they’d made. “I mean, like, bigger here. Castle Town. All that.”

“You just… woke up in Castle Town one day and didn’t know how you got there?”

“No,” Wild answered. “I woke up in a… I woke up somewhere else and didn’t know how I got there. All I knew was I needed to get out. And I kept going and going, and most transportation leads here, so I got off the bus here and started turning it into my stomping grounds.”

Before Twilight could ask anything else, Wild turned the conversation to him. “How about you? What brought you to Castle Town?”

Twilight shrugged. “Needed a change.”

The pair was silent, neither willing to make eye contact or elaborate on what they had said. Then Twilight chuckled. “Look at us. Let’s talk about something else, the important stuff: do you like dogs, cats, or both?”

Wild shrugged. “I’m kind of meh to all of them.”

Twilight gaped. “What what?!”

“I don’t know, I mean I’ve run into the city’s stray cats a million times over and they’re feral as hell,” Wild shrugged. “The dogs too, honestly. Best to just avoid them.”

“Unbelievable,” Twilight muttered. “We need to work on this.”

[i-didnt-do-1t]

For writing prompts could I humbly please request Davey teaching some of the newsies school stuff a la my recent ask?

I feel like Elmer just takes over any maths lessons and being a small child makes it ever more incomprehensible to the others skdsjkd

Thank you for the prompt! I hope this is okay :D

(I also find math incomprehensible so I am very much Elmer in this situation, like genuinely I would’ve loved to mention more complex math but I am an English lit student and just so terrible at mental math Albert in this is me fr)

David felt like he should be shorter than he was, given how much he hated being on the receiving end of other people’s attention. And yes he would still be stood at the top of the bunk house with eyes on him regardless of whatever height he was but being tall decidedly made it worse. (And no, he didn’t feel the need to explain himself when he mentioned this to Jack a few weeks previous.)

“I thought it was only gonna be a couple of the kids.” Davey said, and Race, a bunk over, was lazy as he removed the cigar from between his teeth, as if Dave wasn’t being stared down by at least eight of his friends.

“Yeah n’ a couple others wanted to come too when they heard you was offerin’ lessons. So take it away Teach.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Nah that’s Finch. An’ you like school n’ stuff right?” David shrugged a little uncomfortably, he was hardly going to say no, so he didn’t say anything and Race kept talking. “Just look at all those bright young faces whose futures you could be changin’”

David turned to face the small yet intimidating crowd.

Elmer, Romeo, Henry, JoJo and Splasher stared back blankly, unimpressed. As well as a few of the older ones in the back too now, Specs, and Albert and Tommy-Boy.

Blink from his place on his bunk on the other side of the room made his presence known by groaning, so Davey mentally added him to the tally aswell. “You gonna get on with it or what, I need you to bore me to sleep Dave.”

He thinks he would’ve been hurt by the comment had come from anyone aside from Blink, who had never exactly been subtle in his disdain of David’s schooling. He couldn’t blame him so he couldn’t be mad, because David got it, at least he thought he did. But trying to think round his words so he wouldn’t say anything he’d have to end up explaining was difficult sometimes, and Blink looking at him like he was a sentence away from being on the receiving end of his fist when it happened wasn’t comforting either.

“Okay. I’m better at literature but you wanted to do maths today right?”

He didn’t know who he was asking but Henry answered.

“Yeah. I mean, I can count n’ add up n’ all but it takes a while to do the multiplications. They don’t stick in my head.”

David frowned in thought. “Okay, so what goes on in your head if I asked 4 X 7.”

“I gotta count through em’ all. It doesn’t just come automatic.”

“It doesn’t have to be fast. I mean, you can make it two 14’s and then add those together.”

“So’s 28.”

“Exactly.”

Henry nodded slightly, eyes a little narrower. “Huh.”

“What I don’t get.” Elmer said, because of course he did. “Is how 7 by 0 is 0. Ain’t it meant to be 7?”

David blinked. “Oh well, it’s seven 0’s, so there’s nothing.”

“Yeah but there’s seven of em’”

“Okay. Yes. but say you even just added 2 zeros together, it would still be zero.”

Elmer stared at him blankly. “But there’s two of em.”

“Two of nothing, if you add nothing plus nothing you get nothing.”

“Two nothings.”

The groan and the sound of a head hitting against a bed frame came from Albert this time round.

“Jesus Elmer, stop tryna kill the man you know exactly what he’s saying, you’re better at math than half the bunk house put together.”

“You’re only saying that cuz you can’t add up.” Elmer shot back, and with that he twisted his neck to face him again so aggressively that Davey could probably be persuaded that he’d given himself whiplash. “Do it Davey, ask him what 37 plus 56 is.”

“I’m not putting anyone on the spot.”

“I’m telling Spot you said she can’t add.”

David blanched. “That is just not what I said at all.”

“Can’t wait to tell Spot you compared her to Oscar Delancey, you heard it here first folks.”

The fact that Blink decided to contribute to the lesson at all was more surprising than the fact that this was where he decided to contribute, but the likelihood he was actually serious was significantly higher than Elmer’s jokes.

“That is even further from what I said.”

And suddenly everyone was talking all at once and David wanted to throw up a little maybe. God he hated public speaking, even if this didn’t necessarily count as public, except maybe- no. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of it. Right now he had to work out how to get eveyone to quiet down.

“Hey knuckleheads,” Race didn’t move from his spot leaned up against the bunk but all eyes drew to him anyway, and if David was a little in awe of how he held the room he wasn’t shocked by it, Race had always had that quality right after Jack. (Briefly Davey wondered if they could give him lessons in that) “If you want Dave to actually keep teaching youse you can’t drive him out the room or get ‘im shanked by Spot.”

Elmer was the first to shrug, and slump over again, leaning his elbows on his criss-crossed knees.

“I guess.”

David had opened his mouth to speak again, taking advantage of the second of silence to try and get this back on track but Elmer beat him to it one more time.

“Long as you don’t try and give us homework like last time.”

[dearestaeneas]

resisting the temptation to ask you every one of the questions from the writer ask game and instead asking: 2, 3, 7, 13 (i'm guessing i know the answer to this but consider this an open invitation to share some fun lore), 26, 29, 30

kicking my feet and writing your name in hearts all over my dream journal

2) my two newest ocs are Matt + Justin! i was working on a thing for a zine i want to submit to, and the theme was 70s/80s/90s campy horror, so i picked just two lame ass 90s boy names. it's a silly little queer slasher story that i didn't expect to go so in-depth on!

3) uhhhhhh. my biggest self insert is probably that John Dearheart character i post little blurbs about sometimes. i realized i'm probably gonna need to change his name if i post more about him, though, because i completely forgot he's a Discworld character. i've been rereading Going Postal lately and while i was waiting for the library loan to come in i was scrolling through its tumblr tag and got whiplash seeing his name. it is deeply humbling thinking you had an original name and not only seeing its an already-established character, but an already-established character from a BOOK YOU'VE READ BEFORE. outside of him as my vent character, i put myself into all my characters! i'm very vain! Branwen and Ardan are my two biggest ones from hh, and lately its been Branwen more just for the sake of story themes :3

7) Celeste and the Old God is actually one of my favorite pairs to write about, and it's wild to me that i don't have them interact more. i think what really gets me about them is that Celeste's entire deal is that she's...normal. she has a "normal," healthy relationship with religion, and criticizing it is included in that, i think. and for that reason, those two are the closest to being equals. having one character be a devout believer/her religious trauma being something you actively get to see be established throughout the story (branwen) v. another character who's extremely cynical to the point of numbness who doesn't believe in anything (ardan), and in a context where branwen is genuinely helpless vs. ardan having more control than he realizes/freaks him out when he does realize it, it's so fun to write Celeste as being on equal playing ground. it's important to me that her entire deal is "actually no fuck you, you need me just as much as i need you." and i think that equal playing ground is why they have kind of a begrudging friendship.

i also like writing branwen and ardan together because they are bisexual.

13) not really any of them i don't do that kind of stuff<3*

26) American Gods!!! And Slaughterhouse Five. those are the two i always automatically say when asked! i read If We Were Villains sometime last year and it rewired my brain, also. i found it because of The Secret History, which also rewired my brain. Both of those books fundamentally changed my brain chemistry, but secret history did it derogatorily, if that makes sense. great book. i never think i have feelings about it until i start talking about it. Donna Tartt i am nearing your location. (also Piranesi!<3)

29) probably Harry Potter? unfortunately? (also, sucks that i have to say 'unfortunately'. like most people, those stupid books were very important to me at one point in my life! mostly because of the stuff i did with my friends because of it! go fuck yourself, Joanne!) i deffo wrote fanfic, though. i had a huuuuge fic i handwrote with a bunch of my friends

not my first fandom, but i thought you'd appreciate: i was also a huge percy jackson kid. obviously. probably more so than harry potter. i took latin in middle school, and one year we had this pretty big multi-part project where we could pick different prompts for different parts. super cool and fun, had i been the person i am now who actually like, cares about things and puts effort into them! but i suffered from the disease of all middle schoolers where i Fucking Sucked. i didn't realize one of my parts was due one day, and during the lunch period i speed-wrote percy jackson fanfiction that i had to Read Out Loud To The Class and then hand in for a grade. i got a 100, but only after reading it out loud, having what i believe was my first out of body experience, and then going back to my seat where one of my friends leaned over and said "was that the fucking plot of Mark of Athena"

30) good!!!! we're actively getting a snowstorm and i'm hoping it keeps up so work is cancelled tomorrow! who knows how lucky i'll be but i can hope!!

*if i was normal i could have left 13 at that and just let myself be funny, but i am nothing if not verbose. obviously hh! in taking up your offer to share fun lore, there's one character who i have been avoiding talking about because i think everything about him is so integral to the plot that like, making goofs about him would be a spoiler (is that...full of myself to say? it would be, though). that said, since the idea of "equals" is so relevant throughout hh, he's been fun to write because he technically falls on the Celeste end of the spectrum, but he's using it for evil. literally. a lot of his deal is unintentionally "what makes a god a god" and how he's this sort of nebulous figure because no one can agree what his deal is. he is accidentally my Odysseus character, and it kills me to admit that. little pansexual freak who wants to kill god.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

hi!! congratulations on your 200+ followers!!! :D can i request a prompt of characters your choice with a creator who's super reclusive? like super introverted its almost funny

A/N: You know, sometimes writing these things is a roller-coaster in and of itself.

Wordcount: 866

Warnings: Dark undertones, tonal whiplash

Masterpost

Taglist: @iyohime

iii. The Windwheel Aster (Aster molendinum), native to southwest Mondstadt, has been observed to be attempting to spread southwards beyond the Dragonspine range into Liyue. While the ocean winds are too violent for the seeds to safely traverse, a narrow, survivable corridor exists through the northeasterlies, as a small colony of the specimens can attest. Anecdotes attest to the possibility of these fragile seeds reaching the islands of Inazuma, though few speak well about how they fare. Therefore, concerns about the invasiveness of this plant are wildly unfounded as my incompetent colleague has clearly overlooked in their latest release.

Your head snapped up from your book. You heard someone over the howling winds, and a snarl crept over your face.

“…ace? Your Grace?”

You let out something between a sigh and a grunt, both of frustration. Two days ago, you had had enough with all the parties, all the social events, all the people trying to talk to you and touch you and getting far too nosy for your own comfort. They inundated you with an inordinate amount of questions: “Are You feeling alright, Your Grace?”, “You don’t look comfortable at this party, Revered One, would You like to leave?”, “I’ve heard You get stressed from dealing with people. Shall I set You up with a quiet place in my library?”

Why did they find it necessary to talk to you so much? Was it so hard for them to realize you wanted to be left alone? This is why you stole away in the darkest night, slipping past their guards and wards armed only with your wits, a few books, and the divine power to blow a human-sized hole through a city wall. After deftly escaping from the Knights’ headquarters, then creating a dust cloud that could be seen from Inazuma, you were finally free from the oppressive clutches of Mondstadt and her people. Seizing your newfound freedom, you fled to the one place that no sane human would rationally go to: the Dragonspine Mountains.

If isolation had a price, you were more than willing to pay it.

The climb was hellish and the environs hostile, but you eventually found a cave untouched by human hands for years. It sheltered you little from the biting winds and blowing snow, but here, at last, you thought you could find the solace you dreamed for to finish reading a single book.

But alas.

Even this was too much to ask for from the world because someone had to have the gall to find you here of all places, when you spent literal hours climbing up this mountain and minutes finding this cave!

“Dearest Founder, is something the matter?” You glanced over to see Albedo waltzing into your cave. “I saw something rising from Mondstadt and feared the worst, but I see you here of all places. Has something gone wrong in the city?”

You snapped your book closed. There were things you were willing to deal with, like the minimal interaction needed to secure these books from Lisa, and this wasn’t anywhere close to what you were willing to deal with. You stood up, brushing the snow off yourself before attempting to slip past the intruder in your once-newfound sanctum.

“Please, Your Grace.” His grip landed on your shoulder. The contact and the force stung more than the winds outside ever did. “Everyone down there must be so worried. Let’s get you down there and ease their minds.”

You glowered at his hand. The contact was… certainly unwelcome, but you learned quickly that there was little you could do to protest against “your acolytes’” whims. Every attempt you made to pull from their grip was a fruitless endeavor, from the imposing and muscled guards to the tiny and weak like Klee and Diona. Far too easily and far too often, you were pulled into the lives of others when all you wanted was to be left alone.

Albedo continued to prattle on about the state of the people below, carelessly pulling you along with a “I don’t want to keep them waiting, Our Author,” or a “Please, we must make haste, they’re sure to be worried to death about You.” You sighed, resigning yourself back into the cycle once again.

Maybe they’d finally understand and give you more time to read this time around.

===

“Albedo, my confidants are beginning to ask questions. By the Creator, I hope you have a cover story.”

“What are they saying?”

“They think you kidnapped Them and tried to steal Them away to your mountain, only to return when your conscience got the better of you.”

“And you, of all people, should know that would be impossible. The timing of events is impossible to resolve with an in-and-out kidnapping attempt, not to mention the absurdity of punching through ten feet of masoned stone without so much as scratching any of the other nearby buildings.”

“Mm. I was never convinced of their theories, in any case. You’ll need to defend yours to them, though.”

“There’s always one way to be absolutely sure about what happened.”

“…You and I both know that will never work.”

“I know. At this point, getting the response isn’t the goal.”

[renissanceblade01]

I have a request! How about Floyd Leech being in a grumpy mood until he sees the reader, and he instantly cheers up and cuddles them, which is why they wanted to see him in the first place. Gender neutral.

Aww!! I can definitely do this!! It's such a cute request. I'm sorry if Floyd is a little OOC, I'm trying my best. I've got to work my way into portraying his character more. Anyways... On to the request!!

Prompt: Floyd was being moody and grumpy, until you came along. Cuddles are in order, don't you think?

The Calm Only You Can Bring (Floyd Leech X Reader)

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

Floyd's mood swings had been acting up again, and he had been glowering at nothing for the past hour or so. Nothing was cheering him up. Not even taunting Riddle. He was currently sitting in his room, glaring at the wall while grumbling to himself about whatever random thing had pissed him off most recently.

So, when his door cracked open and he heard footsteps, he whipped his head up and prepared to snipe at whomever had decided to interrupt him. That was... Until he realized it was you. The way his expression 180'd would have given any person whiplash, but you just smiled softly at him.

"SHRIMPY!!" He had yelled out in excitement, quickly jumping up from the bed and latching himself onto your body in what could only be described as a death hug. Except, without the deadly intent part.

"Hi Floyd." You had gasped out as all the air left your body, doing your best to wrap your pinned appendages around him in some semblance of returning the hug. "I heard you were having a bad day, and thought maybe you'd want to cuddle?" You inquired softly, quickly earning an even bigger smile of delight before you were suddenly tossed onto the eelmer's shoulder like a ragdoll.

"You're gonna get squeezed, Shrimpy~" He taunted, tossing you lightly (roughly) onto the bed. It wasn't even two seconds before he was squeezing you again, your back to his chest as he hummed in delight from the prolonged contact.

All you could do now was sigh in comfort and relief, having gotten exactly what you came for. But, do remember to tell him that you need to breath, yeah?

Sorry that it's so short. The idea came through in far less words than I had originally planned.

~ RenissanceBlade

[purplehairedwonder]

Bent But Not Broken

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Trafalgar Law/Monkey D. Luffy (pre-relationship) Words: 2,127 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Basil Hawkins, Bepo Note: This was written for the “I’m Fine” square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo @badthingshappenbingo​ card.

Feel free to send prompts for additional fills!

This could be read as a loose sequel to “A Rope That Wears Thin,” but it stands on its own.

Summary: In the aftermath of his torture at Hawkins's hands, Law prefers to lick his wounds in private. Luffy, newly returned from Udon, has other ideas.

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Sitting with his back against the wall of the ramshackle shack he’d taken up residence in in Ebisu Town, Law took a heavy breath before turning to the task at hand. With the sounds of his crew puttering about outside his shack grounding him in the moment, Law slowly removed the bandages Bepo had carefully wrapped around his wrists upon his return from the prison. He examined the chafed, bruised skin with a grimace, noting the various shades of purple and yellow and green encircling his wrists where the Seastone shackles suspended from the prison ceiling had held him upright while Hawkins and his lackeys whipped and beat and…

Law shook his head, pulling himself from the memory. He’d made his choice to trade places with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin knowing full well what it meant, and he would do it again in an instant. He’d been Hawkins’s target in the first place, and he’d never let his nakama take blows meant for him—not from Doflamingo and not from another member of the Worst Generation.

That didn’t mean the damage hadn’t lingered, however.

In the days since he’d returned to his crew, he’d let his wounds heal naturally. He knew some of his nakama had looked at him askance for not using his Fruit to accelerate the healing process, but the more he let his body recover naturally, the less energy he’d need to expend to deal with the wounds later—and he knew he’d need his stamina for the upcoming raid. He’d heal whatever was left just before they took on Kaido.

After disinfecting the broken skin, he pulled a salve from his medical kit and spread it over his mottled skin, sighing at the cool relief it provided, before wrapping clean bandages around his wrists once more. He then shrugged out of the sleeves of his yukata to examine the wounds on his chest and arms.

Law coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, then tensed as he felt Hawkins’ fingers tracing over his right bicep. They’d pulled his yukata down to bare his skin, giving them a good look at all the fresh marks Doflamingo had left on his skin just weeks earlier.

“What happened here, Trafalgar?” Hawkins murmured, fingers moving around the scar with an eerily light touch.

Law shut his eyes, his skin crawling at the touch. His arm no longer hurt constantly, but his full strength still hadn’t returned, despite the rehab he’d done in the preceding weeks. There were, however, times he woke up grasping at his arm after dreaming of Doflamingo tearing it off then choking Law with his own hand as he demanded Law make him immortal.

“It almost looks like…” Hawkins trailed off.

Law jerked suddenly, eyes opening, as a hand slapped his face. Hawkins stood in front of him, an amused look on his face. “Did you lose your arm?” He tilted his head, considering. “That Fruit of yours could certainly put it back together.”

When Law remained silent, Hawkins apparently took it as confirmation. “Did Doflamingo take it?”

“Fuck off,” Law growled, fingers twitching in the shackles above his head.

Hawkins hummed in response, returning his attention to the scar. “Doflamingo took his time with you, didn’t he, Trafalgar? But why?”

Law hissed, body tensing again, as yet another whiplash stung his bare back.

“You’d have to ask him,” Law gritted out through his teeth. Still, he couldn’t help his lips twitching upward in a pained smirk. “A little hard now that he’s in Impel Down, though.”

Hawkins’ touch paused, and a moment later, he stood in front of Law again with a thoughtful expression. “It was personal, wasn’t it? Was that why you became a Warlord? To get at Doflamingo?”

“I fail to see why it matters.”

“Lord Kaido wants to know who he’s dealing with,” Hawkins replied, nodding at the lackey standing behind Law. “And how he can make best use of you.”

Law grunted as his back erupted in pain once more, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and he slumped further in his shackles, the Seastone biting into his wrists and draining his strength. Still, his expression sharpened.

“Kaido can fuck right off. No one controls me.” Not ever again.

“We’ll see about that, Trafalgar,” Hawkins replied, grip tightening around Law’s arm once more. “Everyone has their breaking point. We just need to find yours.”

As he looked down, Law noted that a few of the whip marks had rounded his side to his chest, though he’d have to grab Bepo to help put more salve on the remaining marks on his back. But first, he could deal with the cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach himself. Disinfecting and redressing injuries were tasks he’d done more times than he could count, so the automatic motions—the knowledge that his hands could still heal despite the blood they had spilled—had become comforting, and he allowed his thoughts to drift as he worked.

He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t hear the chaos outside approaching his shack until it was too late.

“Torao!”

Law’s eyes snapped up from the wound he was tending as the door to his shack slammed open and rattled on its weakened hinges, and he cursed to himself as Luffy stood in the doorway. Law hadn’t seen the other captain in weeks while he’d been in Udon, though he’d heard the reports from Raizo about how he was doing. His first reaction at seeing Luffy—a swooping of his stomach that he’d been steadily ignoring since they’d left Dressrosa—was quickly drowned out by rising irritation. Couldn’t Law lick his wounds in peace? Yet another inconvenience caused by Straw Hat Luffy.

“Straw Hat, wait!” someone—Penguin?—yelled from outside.

“Torao,” Luffy repeated cheerfully, “there you are! I just got back, but you weren’t there, and no one had seen you in a whi—” He cut himself off as he caught sight of Law’s very obvious injuries.

“Straw Hat, you can’t just…” Bepo called as he followed Luffy into the hut, trailing off as he realized he was too late. He ducked his head in silent apology.

Law shook his head minutely at Bepo. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t stop Luffy; Luffy was a force of nature once he got an idea—and apparently he’d gotten it into his head that he needed to see Law. For whatever reason. The mink glanced between the two captains then backed out of the shack with hunched shoulders.

“Straw Hat-ya. So, you finally got out of Udon?” Law drawled, ignoring Luffy’s expression. He pushed himself slowly to his feet, using the wall to help with his balance.

“What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Law said, making to pull his sleeves back on. He was stopped though when Luffy’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his wrist. Law hissed as the rubbery grip tamped down on his bandaged wounds. Luffy let go like he’d been burned, his hand snapping back in an instant.

“That’s not what I asked, Torao,” Luffy said, looking Law up and down as though cataloging every bruise and scratch he could see. Law wasn’t quite sure how to read his tone. For all that Luffy seemed superficial, carrying his heart on his sleeve with no ulterior motives, Law had learned that the other captain had surprising depths that left him off-balance at the most unexpected times.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Law replied coolly. “It’s been taken care of.”

Luffy closed the distance between them and reached up hesitantly, fingers grazing over a yellowed bruise on Law’s cheek, and Law couldn’t help but flinch back. He lightly slapped Luffy’s hand down, and hurt crossed the younger man’s face.

“No one told me,” Luffy said quietly.

“Your nakama didn’t know,” Law replied, pulling his sleeves up and adjusting his sash. He’d have to finish treating his wounds later, it seemed. “Don’t be angry with them.”

Luffy frowned. “You’re nakama too, Torao.”

“It was Heart business.” It was Law’s crew that had been captured, and it had been Law’s responsibility to get them back. It didn’t help that the Straw Hats were staying with Shinobu, who had the gall to not only accuse Law’s nakama of being traitors, but also suggest killing them. He’d never forgive her for that, and he couldn’t be around her right now.

“But we’re allies.”

“And it was an ally who suggested—” Law started angrily before cutting himself off. Shit.

Luffy’s eyes widened. “Suggested what? What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Law growled. “I’m fine. Leave it alone, Straw Hat-ya.” Law made to move past Luffy and leave the shack, but Luffy grabbed his arm; his grip wasn’t tight, as if he was worried about other injuries, but it was enough to pull Law up short.

“You’re not fine, Torao. I don’t know what happened—”

Law whirled on Luffy, his simmering irritation boiling over. “That’s right! You don’t know what happened because you weren’t here! The moment you got to Wano, you started stomping on Kin’emon’s plans then got yourself locked up in Kaido’s prison because you were reckless,” he snarled. “You were selfish, and the rest of us had to deal with the fallout.”

Luffy recoiled, dropping his hand from his Law’s arm. “Torao, I—”

“Never mind. Don’t worry about it, Straw Hat-ya.” Law pushed past Luffy and outside into the square.

The Hearts in the area took one look at Law’s expression and beat a hasty retreat. Luffy, moments later, followed Law outside.

“You’re limping,” Luffy said simply.

“I am,” Law agreed, not turning to look at his allied captain. “I’ll be fine for the raid, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Law blinked at that and then did turn to look at Luffy. The other man was wringing his hands in front of him, and something about that sight caused the anger to leech out of Law completely. He sagged at the whiplash in his emotions, and Luffy jumped forward to put a steadying hand under Law’s elbow.

Fuck. What was it about this boy that made Law like this?

“I’m worried about you, Torao,” Luffy said gently, guiding him back to a bench alongside the shack’s wall. The two sat, but Luffy didn’t let Law’s arm go. Law thought about saying something but then… didn’t.

Law sighed. “Hawkins-ya.”

Luffy cocked his head curiously. “Huh?”

“Hawkins-ya took Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin captive,” Law said. “They were bait for me.”

“You gave yourself up for your nakama,” Luffy said in understanding.

“Yes.”

“But you got out.”

“Eventually, yes.”

They fell into silence, and Luffy’s hand slid from Law’s elbow to his hand. He entwined their fingers and Law… Law let him. Gods, why did he let Luffy stomp all over his boundaries like they didn’t even exist?

“I’m sorry,” Luffy said after a moment.

Law looked up from their hands in surprise. The other captain was staring at the ground in front of him, legs kicking underneath the bench.

“Straw Hat-ya?”

“I’m sorry,” Luffy repeated. “I know I don’t always listen when Torao makes plans.”

“Ever,” Law muttered. “You don’t ever listen when I make plans,” he clarified at Luffy’s confused expression.

Luffy grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. “Shishishi,” he laughed. “Torao is one of the smartest people I know,” he added. “We wouldn’t be here to help Kin’emon and the samurai without you.” He shrugged, sobering. “I just… I thought our nakama were dead. And I lost it.”

Law sighed and leaned against the shack, careful of the whip marks on his back, and looked over the square his crew had emptied. He had thought much the same as Luffy in the moment Kaido had destroyed the mountain; he’d felt his world crumble beneath him at the prospect of losing his three oldest friends. For an instant, he’d been thirteen and hidden in a treasure chest as Doflamingo shot Cora-san, taking everything from him, all over again.

“I know,” Law replied quietly. He could feel Luffy’s eyes on him, though he kept his gaze forward. “And you’re right,” he added after a moment, feeling more than seeing Luffy’s comically surprised expression. “I’m not okay.” He still had a ways to go physically to fully recover from his injuries. Emotionally… between Doflamingo’s fall, reuniting with his nakama, his capture, and the impending raid, well, Law didn’t want to touch his emotional state with a ten-foot pole, but somehow, sitting here with his allied captain, it felt like he might be okay eventually.

The realization startled something in his chest.

“But you will be,” Luffy said, unknowingly echoing Law’s own thoughts.

Law squeezed Luffy’s fingers in his own. “I will be,” he agreed.

[indigowallbreaker]

@omgkalyppso AND @bylaudelekha tagged me in this Fic Writing Tag Game! It’s been great seeing other replies to this. Like a one stop shop for friends’ fics! :D Consider yourself tagged if you want to take this chance to talk about your own writing.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I have several all-time favorites lol. In terms of ships I have written for, my favorite ships are Ferdinand/Hubert, (FETH), Zuko/Katara (ATLA), and Doug/Dylas (Rune Factory 4).

How many works do you have on AO3?

269. 

What's your total AO3 word count?

519,774. I should have posted one more fic before answering this just to bump it to 520k. Oh well XD

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Across ALL my AO3 fics since 2014:

What Do You Know About Me? (LazyTown Sportacus/Robbie)

Saying It First (LazyTown Sportacus/Robbie)

Choosing (Avengers Tony/Steve)

The Whims of the Universe (Marvel Cinematic Universe Tony/Loki)

The Ballad of the Princess and the Commoner (Fire Emblem: Three Houses Ferdibert)

I... keep forgetting about Choosing. That was a gift fic that kinda blew up. Shame I haven’t written much else for Avengers. However the movies ended, it’s a fun Universe to play in.

(more below the cut for interested parties. And if you fill this out, tag me so I can see!)

Do you reply to comments, why or why not?

I used to be good about replying because I know I like it when authors replied to my comments. But I’ve slipped these last few months. 

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I had two whole paragraphs listed here originally to talk about two angsty fics that I intend/did intend to follow up with happy endings-- and then I remembered “24th Garland Moon” (FETH) which is, to date, the SADDEST THING I have ever written. Fluffy and hurt/comfort are my wheelhouse so writing something so different was kinda nice. Also devastating. I recommend stepping out of your genre comfort zone from time to time to give your readers whiplash. 

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Many of my Lazytown prompt fills had saccharine endings just due to the nature of the show (it’s geared towards younger children if you’ve never heard of it). “Something There That Wasn’t There Before”, my Lazytown Beauty and the Beast AU, feels like the happiest ending to me because 1) EVERYONE in that story got a happy ending, even the person in the role of the ‘villain’; and 2) it was over 25 chapters so the ending felt well deserved after everything the characters went through.

Do you write crossovers?

I think about them more than I write them. Is my Felix/Ferdinand Pokemon fic “Some Curry, Some Company” technically a crossover? Sometimes the line between AU and crossover is blurry to me lol

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

On AO3, no. I’ve received some annoying comments like ones that just say “update plz” on four year old fics (this is rude and don’t do it). But no one on AO3 has left hate. On fanfiction dot net I DID get one or two ‘flames’-- more for my ships than my writing. I don’t know if that’s better.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’ve tried my hand at it once or twice but I’ve never published anything. All fairly vanilla. Doesn’t mean my face didn’t turn scarlet >////< 

[Side note: I’ve always felt it would shock my readers if I ever posted smut. All my fics are PG-13 for violence at most so I don’t feel like my ‘audience’ would go for anything more? And apart from trying my hand at something totally different, there’s no real reason for me to learn how to write smut-- most of my fanfic ideas don’t involve sex and so far none of my original story ideas have to do with sex either. Am I overthinking this? Should I just “write badly” and see where it goes? Am I considering other people too much? Vote now on your phones.]

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! In my early days of FF.net, there was someone who had a very similar start to her story as I did, and apparently fans of my fic left angry comments on hers staying I had stolen the idea. She reached out to me to apologize (which was the first I heard of it) and explained she hadn’t meant to copy me-- she hadn’t even ever read my story! Given that I had spoofed my story concept from someone else, I didn’t hold anything against her. She was a good writing buddy for a while actually. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone asked to translate my fic “Choosing” into Russian but I’m having trouble remembering if that actually happened.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I doubt I will. I’ve talked about stories with people and been inspired by others, often giving them credit in the author’s note for the fic idea, but my writing process is too chaotic to co with anyone.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

“The Whims Of The Universe”, my soulmate AU Frostiron fic. I still want to finish it but every year I feel like I get farther from doing so. Is “I misplaced my notes and am too lazy to look hard for them” a good enough excuse? Let’s hope so. 

What are your writing strengths?

Readers of both my fanfics and original stories have complimented my dialogue. People also tell me I capture character voices really well, which is always nice to hear but hits especially well if I struggled with that particular story. 

My goal is to turn my vocabulary into a strength. In college I got knocked a lot for lack of variety in my word choice. It would be easy to blame this on my struggles with spelling (I tend to lean on the same words over and over since I know I can spell them) but at a certain point I had to accept I was being lazy. OneLook has helped, and so has just taking my time when editing. Last year I saw improvement in my vocabulary and I hope that continues! 

What are you writing weaknesses?

Describing characters is haaaard, especially in original stories where I can’t rely on the reader knowing what the character looks like to begin with. In fanfic I can say “Katara wore a black coat and thick boots” but I don’t have to tell you she has tan skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. I find it hard to work in character description organically. Sometimes it just turned into a list of traits. 

Outfits are hard too because not only do I not have any fashion sense, I have trouble naming the article of clothing I’m even imagining. Picture references help but I have more than once had to google the same word because I just plain forget what I looked up yesterday.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it’s fun to incorporate if it feels right for the character/moment. In my Lazytown fics I frequently used Icelandic for “Elvish” terms of endearment. As long as the reader can surmise the meaning or intend based on context, I think those kinds of words can stay untranslated. But if there’s no reason two characters should be speaking English and you still want to have the reader understand them, using italics or adding “turning to his grandmother, Mark switched to Spanish” works for me.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Avatar: The Last Airbender. Good times :3

What's your favorite fic you've written? What’s a fic you wrote that you love but hasn’t been mentioned in this game yet?

“Haunts Me Faithfully” (FETH) was a concept I wanted to write for a long while-- non-Crimson Flower Ferdibert is such a flavor. Ghosts are a fascinating thing to write and there’s so many different ways to take them. I still enjoy rereading this one.

--

Thanks for reading to the bottom! I appreciate you taking the time. Again: if you want to do this, use me as an excuse and tag me so I can read it!

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 9: No, you don’t - Maxwell Lord

Day 9: No, you don’t - Maxwell Lord 

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader 

Rating: 18 + 

November Writing Challenge Masterlist 

Day 8: Dot, Dot, Dot - Agent Whiskey 

This prompt was requested by @mandoalorian-mainblog​. If you have any requests let me know- here. :D Hope you enjoy! 

“Ok everyone, you need to be on your best behavior, keep your hands to yourself, raise your hand to speak, and remember to use your manners, say please and thank you. You are here to represent Eastern Elementary School, ok, let’s go,” You turn away from the bright wondering eyes of your students and towards the towering building ahead of you.

You had been selected to escort the contest winners from your school to Chimtech Consortium, the company owned by Maxwell Lord. You had never met the man in person but it was impossible not to know who he was, his infomercials were always on. You lead the group through the lobby greeting the security guard at the desk. “Hello, we are from Eastern Elementary, we are meeting with Mr. Lord at 11:00 AM,” you smile brightly at the guard who looks through the notebook in front of him before grunting, placing the phone to his cheek and calling someone down. 

You turn to look at the kids and see their own excitement reflected back at you. You couldn’t deny that you had been excited about meeting Maxwell Lord. Everything you had read about him, his company, and he was pretty easy on the eyes. A few moments later a harried looking woman appeared out of the center elevator, running over to your group. 

“Miss. Ashton? Eastern Elementary?” she questions before you nod, “Oh thank god! Your late and I was getting worried you wouldn’t be coming, Mr. Lord has been waiting upstairs and he HATES to be left waiting,” she gestures you all quickly to the elevator and you glance over to the other chaperone of the group Levi’s mom who laughs quietly to herself, rolling her eyes. 

You bite your lip before you say something quickly ushering the students into the elevator. When you reach the top floor the doors open to an immaculate office. There is only one office on this floor and a large conference room, Maxwell Lord’s personal floor. The secretary doesn’t give you much time to look before she is all but pushing your group to the conference room. You move to the back to catch any stragglers and when you’ve counted them all there, you enter. At the front of the room in a large high back leather chair is the illustrious Maxwell Lord. His blue and white striped suit is pressed to perfection, several rings grace his thick fingers, his blonde hair with not a wave out of place, and a scowl that quickly masks into one of the fakest smiles you have ever seen. He doesn’t rise to greet anyone, only points to the chairs around the room, “Welcome everyone, why don’t you have a seat and we can get started.” 

The kids run to claim their seat and you and Levi's mom take the two seats at the back. When everyone gets settled the secretary takes control of the room. “So we only have time to hear tw-” Maxwell glares at his assistant before clearing his face, “one speech, since you were late to our meeting, Mr. Lord is very busy today so please Miss. Ashton, which one is the best?” 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and you glance around at the students. Some look at you with a matching expression of shock, others eyes have become glassy. They were all supposed to get to share their speech. 

“Uhm I’m sorry you’ve mentioned several times that we are late but your letter told us to be here at 11:00 AM it’s only 10:55? Every student should have the opportunity to share their speech, they’ve worked very hard to earn this opportunity to share with you, I am sure Mr. Lord can honor the time given.” 

The secretary doesn’t say anything, only furiously scrolling through her notebook before she pales, turning her eyes down to her boss. “Mr. Lord, I am so sorry sir, I made a mistake. I thought they were supposed to be here at 10:30 but I wrote it in my planner as 11. I am so sorry sir,” she begs. 

He rises, and points to you, “Miss. Ashton a word in my office please?” he doesn’t wait for a response before you are running out of the room after him. 

When you both reach his office the door closes with a snap behind you. “Ok listen, I do not want to waste my entire afternoon listening to these damn kids, so where do I have to sign to make them go away? You don’t make much money, name your price,” he removes a checkbook from the top desk of his drawer. 

Your mouth drops open before you snap out of it, “You can’t be serious? You're honestly trying to pay me to break my students hearts? They’ve been looking forward to this for months, certainly you can understand that. It will only take thirty minutes of your time. I’m sure even you can spare thirty minutes.” 

He takes a few moments before he responds, “Miss. Ashton as someone whose only job is to babysit children I am sure you can think I can spend thirty minutes listening to them but I am here to tell you I don’t. I am a very busy man,” He looks down and begins to fill out the check. 

You feel your blood begin to boil and your pulse rise, and the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, “Are you fucking kidding me?” His head snaps up so fast he may get whiplash. 

“Excuse me-” 

You cut him off before he gets a chance to speak “No I don’t think I need to make any excuses or apologies, you have made it crystal clear to me that you are an asshole. Those kids,” you point back towards the conference room, “have worked so fucking hard for months! Just to come to your office and read you their speech. And now you're telling me you can’t give them thirty damn minutes of your precious time, to listen. And don’t give me any bull shit about us being late when it was your secretary who made the mistake in your schedule!” 

“You don’t know who the hell you're talking to,” he stomps over to you getting in your face but you're not intimidated one bit. 

“NO, you don’t understand who the hell your talking to Mr. Lord!” you don’t back down getting right back in his face, and shoving your pointer finger harshly into his chest, “I may be a low level poor public servant in your eyes but in mine I am a badass teacher who deals with privileged pricks like you on a daily basis and I am here to tell you I will not be intimidated!” 

He doesn’t say anything, your both panting harshly, your faces mere inches apart, your finger is still digging into the chest of his suit. You don’t notice the change in his face quickly enough to react before you're pushed backward into the mahogany door, his mouth coming down to slant over your own. The kiss is violent and messy teeth clashing together, your hands push into his perfect hair and tug harshly, his hands cover your ass pushing into you harshly. 

You come apart to breath, the back of your head hitting the door. His hands are bruising on your hips, his hair falls down over his forehead. “What...what was that?” you ask in a whisper. 

He pushes forward again putting his lips on yours again, but this time it’s different. The air has shifted slightly; he's gentler and his grip has lessened to be almost a caress. Your hands wrap themselves around his neck and your tongues dance together and he lets out a groan when you roll your hips against his own. 

The moment is broken by a loud knock on the door behind you, his hands tighten on you to keep you still before he clears his throat, “What is it?” he shouts. 

“Uhm I am so sorry to disturb you Mr. Lord but your 11 o’clock appointment is here in conference room four,” the muffled voice of his secretary sounds through the door. 

He takes a moment before answering, keeping his eyes on you the whole time, “Cancel my afternoon, I am going to listen to the children’s speeches.” 

“Oh...yes sir,” she stutters before the clack of her heels drifts away. 

“Why did you do that?” you whisper, “I mean I’m glad but...why?” 

“Because a badass teacher told me too,” he uses his right hand pushing your hair behind your ear before lowering down to your neck. He kisses you again gently. “Now come on Miss. Ashton the children are waiting,” he straightens himself and pushes his hair back into place. 

You try your best to straighten up your own appearance before you look up meeting his gaze once again, “What are you doing tonight?” he asks. 

“Nothing.” 

“Keep it that way...have dinner with me.” He doesn’t ask more demands and you can’t help but nod, “Excellent, now let’s go,” he pulls the door open and you follow. 

When you get back to the conference room, you take your seat next to Levi’s mom who gives you a look. You just stare back, almost daring her to say something. She doesn't only winks at you smiling, you smile gently looking down at your hands, you feel eyes on you and you look up into the chocolate brown eyes of Maxwell Lord. Oh you couldn’t wait for tonight. 

Day 10: Used Tea Bags- Javier Pena 

[pinkprimrose05]

GX Month Day 18: This Wasn't in the Rule Book

@gxmonth

Ao3 Version Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83310418

Why yes, it's prompt bending time! Wish this day came a bit later into the month so it was closer to the release date of Duel World ARC-V but, oh well, what can ya do? ...Oops, looks like I spoiled the chapter. Yes, this year's AU prompt also doubles as a celebration of ARC-V coming to Duel Links, and it's probably the one prompt I'm most excited to write because hoo boy I've been waiting for this moment for sooooo long! 8D

~~~~~

"Manual Reboot Successful. Initiate Sign-Up Process? "

..

"Initiating Sign-Up Process. Establishing Connection...Please Enter WORLD_ID."

..

"Response Recorded. Initiating Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6..."

"..ERROR. Failed to Connect to WORLD_ID SERIES6. Continue Sign-Up Process and Retry?"

..

"Response Recorded. Continuing Sign-Up Process."

..

"Response Recorded. Aborting Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6...Connection Aborted"

..

"...Sing-Up Process Completed. Initiating Log-In Sequence..."

..

..

..

"ERROR."

-----------

Yuuma sat by the river, waiting for something big to happen.

He knew he wasn't support to be there. Tour Guide hade explicitly told everyone to not get close to the Gate during new world maintenance, but being his curious self, he guiltlessly ignored the warning. Why? Because of the aforementioned new world, of course!

From what he knew about it -which wasn't much, but Juudai-senpai had been rambling about all the different Duelists, Decks and weird game mechanics that they might see for two weeks straight and that sort of gave him a general idea-, this new world thing was a pretty big deal in Duel Links, and with it being so covered up, Yuuma was all too hyped to see what it was like for himself, consequences be damned.

He'd tried world-switching to no avail, as he sebsequently found out that the game wasn't only staggering log-outs, it was also staggering travelling through Duel Worlds for however long he was stuck here. He'd tried asking everyone he knew about it over his D-Gazer too, but that didn't work, and neither did begging a sleepy Kaito to try and hack the game for more info..

..Which led back to him sitting by the river, kicking his legs back and forth as Emperor's Key swayed in the morning breeze, dangling from the string in his hand while he kept waiting, waiting, and waiting some more...

"Yuuma?"

"Eek!" The Xyz Duelist practically jumped five feet into the air upon hearing his name being called, thoughts racing in frantic circles as he turned to see someone approaching...then immediately relaxing when he realized exactly who that someone was.

"Three!"

Michael Arclight smiled, waving gently as he tottered to the river bank and sat down next to Yuuma, who sighed in relief at knowing he wasn't in grave trouble for getting caught near the Gate. The two traded greetings, then settled into silence as they gazed at the horizon, at the clear sky and rising sun of their Duel World's landscape. If it were him, Michael would be content with just staying like that and admiring the view, but the ball of excitement next to him wasn't about to share that sentiment anytime soon.

"Sooooooo..." Yuuma began "What are you gonna do today?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Yuuma made a broad gesture with his arms in response, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"You know, about the, uh, the new world? Are you gonna visit that? Duel people there? I don't know what to expect from it to be honest, it's the first time for us and I'm reeaally excited and also curious and I can't wait to see what will happen...but we can't find out anything before the maintenance ends, and it looks like it's gonna take a while and I'm getting bored so, what are you gonna do?"

Michael hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his Duel Disk "Well, I was thinking of waiting until things settled down before doing anything about all of this. A game this big can get quite unstable with such a huge update, you know? That's why I came here anyway, and..." the pink-haired Duelist blushed faintly "..I may or may not have decided to ignore what Guide-san said about the Gate in the process. Please don't tell anyone I was here?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Yuuma said, mimicking a zipper sound as he ran two fingers along his lips for effect "No one will ever know of your super classified one-time incident of breaking the law...not that that law made sense anyway. I mean, COME ON..."

Michael giggled, listening as Yuuma launched into a full-on rant about how meaningless them 'closing' the Gate area was. He wasn't exactly wrong though; if it was about as dangerous as Guide said, surely there would be some obstacle or lock to stop people from getting too close, right? Surely she wouldn't just count on everyone to not be reckless enough to ignore her, right? Unless...

Unless the error she's dealing with here might cause serious backlash if she tried inputting a new command that also interacts with the Gate, in which case-

Any other thought that would have followed that trail instantly vanished when the Gate suddenly exploded with blue light, and in that moment, Michael's world went quiet.

-----------

"Unacceptable! This is unacceptable! I have a fucking job interview in two hours, how am I supposed to get ready in time for that??"

Yuusei sighed, running a hand through his already mussed hair for what was probably the eighth time in thirty minutes. Tour Guide's sudden announcement of an emergency maintenace -one that somehow overlapped with the new world's- had put everyone on edge, even more so after they found out they couldn't log out until it was over. As a result, every single Duelist currently in the 5D's World had gathered at the Deck Editor and unanimously decided to wait out the maintenance period there...but some of them weren't particularly happy about being stuck in the game for however long it took.

Chief of those was Jack, who kept pacing next to the table Team 5D's and co. clustered around, all while throwing several uncharitable insults at Guide, Isono, Kaiba, and basically everyone affliated with the Duel Links staff.

"Why do they have to keep messing up every time they launch one of those new words?? I swear, if I see any of those little-"

Carly instinctively covered her ears when the Resonator Duelist let out a particularly nasty swear, and Crow shot him a miffed glare from behind. Yuusei sighed again, then slowly pushed himself out from his chair to rest a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Jack, please go get a cup of coffee and cool down." He said in an uncharacteristically pleading, tired tone "We're all stuck here, we all have important things to do, and some of us haven't slept for twenty-six hours. It'd do everyone a lot of good if you stopped yelling at empty air for a while."

Jack crossed his arms and huffed, but forced himself to simmer down regardless.

"...Fine. I'll go get myself some coffee and 'cool down' or whatever, but not because you asked me to, it's because I need some fresh air." And with that, the former King of Duels strode out of the Studio, coat flapping dramatically in a gust of wind before he went completely out of view.

"Good riddance." Crow let his head drop on the table with a low thud, raising a thumbs-up in Yuusei's general direction, and while he normally wouldn't agree with that sentiment, the Synchro Duelist was currently grateful for the calmer atmosphere of the place, now that Jack was gone. He slid back into his chair, hoping to get some shut-eye to compensate for staying up for all of the night before...

"Guys, we have a problem."

...Or not. Yuusei looked up in time to see Bruno -No, stop it, that's Antinomy- dropping in the chair between him and a barely conscious Kiryuu, the computer in his hands flashing with several warning signs overlapping on top of strings of code, which kept appearing and disappearing at a seemingly random pace. This, the noiret decidedly thought, peering intently at the screen, definitely doesn't look good.

"The energy output is spiking around the Gate area and the ones close to it." Antinomy explained to no-one in particular, his usually passive face set in a stressed frown as he clicked away at the keyboard "It appears that whatever issue that caused this emergency maintenance has gone completely out of control, and while we don't know exactly what that means, compressing so much energy in a certain area, no matter how broad..."

"...is bound to make it blow up." Yuusei concluded, eyes widening as his mind caught up with the implication behind that "This means the Duel Studio and everyone in it will be affected if anything happens to the Gate."

Antinomy nodded "Exactly. It could be that someone is trying to log in, and that's why I'm asking you to go and- dammit!" He swore, fingers moving across the keyboard at a far more frantic pace when the computer let out a series of long, loud beeping sound. Yuusei was pretty sure he got whiplash from how fast he turned to see what was going on-

-but before he could register more than the word "ERROR" bolded in blue across the screen, he felt a shock of static, and then...nothing.

-----------

"Automated Reboot Successful. Log-In Sequence...Complete."

"Connecting to WORLD_ID SERIES2...Connection Successful."

"Linking with.."

"..Sakaki Yuuya."

-----------

The first thing he felt when he came to was a gentle breeze tousling his hair, rays of sunshine lighting up his eyelids, and droplets of water spraying his face every couple seconds. It wasn't raining, that much he gathered, which meant that he'd most likely spawned near a fountain or a river, since there was no trace of the salty scent of seawater in the air.

Yuuya opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was a fountain to his left, its marble structure adorned with a ring of green leaves that carried all kinds of colourful flowers, water flowing from it center and from the sides. Pushing himself up, the tomato-haired Duelist looked around, taking in the rest of his current surroundings, and the first thing that caught his attention was a huge, round portal thingy that hovered in the air, with glowing lines of blue circuitry running through its silvery white perimeter.

That must be the Gate, he thought that's how I came here.

A bit further ahead was what seemed to be another portal, but this one was rectangular in shape, unlike the Gate's circle, and it was completely blue as well. Yuuya watched as the portal rotated in place slowly, the other side of it coming into view with the label 'Duel School' appearing on top of it. Curious, he reached out a hand to touch the portal...

...only to pull back immediately when the pixels forming it fizzled and crackled with electricity, shocking him.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!!" Yuuya clutched his stung hand with the other, hissing in pain at the contact before letting go of his hand. He sucked in deep breath then slowly exhaled, wiping the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes before turning away from the Duel School to keep walking (and to will away the sick, fleeting memory the shock had sparked for a moment).

Yeesh, that wasn't a great first interaction... he grimaced, waving his hand in the air in hopes that it would calm the stinging pain down But that doesn't mean I can't find something good if I keep looking. I wonder where all the other Duelists are.

The path he was walking down split into two at the end. Yuuya turned around, chancing one more look at the admittedly beautiful yet strangely desloate area he started in. He chalked its emptiness up to it being quite early in the morning...but then again, it wasn't morning for everyone around the world, so maybe it was just that the area was mainly used as a terminal, which would explain why he was the only one there...

Wait.

Wait.

He shouldn't be.

Switching his Duel Disk on with a quick swipe (which was an honestly stupid action in hindsight because damn his hand stung hard from that), Yuuya dialed the very first contact on his list, running the hand with the Disk strapped to it through bi-colored bangs and pushing them out of his face as the device rang once, twice, three times. Where was everyone else? He, Yuzu and Gongenzaka had logged in at the same time, and Sora had told them he'll jump in right after, so why was he the only one to come out of the Gate?

*Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din-*

"Hello."

Yuuya blinked, then did a double take at the soft, young voice that came from the other end of the call. That...that wasn't Yuzu. He swallowed.

"..I'm sorry, who am I talking to?"

A few moments passed before the voice replied "My name is Sera. You must not recognize me, but please don't worry, the owner of this device is safe and sound, and if you wish to talk to her, she is here with me."

The line went silent then. Well, almost silent; Yuuya could hear bits of chatter and the sound of someone fiddling with the Duel Disk...before said someone decided to blast his eardrums full-force, like she always did.

"Yuuya! Where the heck are you?!" Yuzu cried out, and he found himself smiling at the familiar loudness "I've been looking for you everywhere!!"

He winced when her voice cracked on the last word, hand running through his hair again as he laughed nervously "Sorry, sorry! I...honestly don't entirely know where I am yet. Thought we'd start at the same place, but I guess we didn't..." He glanced around for any sort of landmark to pinpoint his position, then remembered where he came from at first and settled on that "Um, can you see the Gate? I'm standing close to it."

There was a beat of silence, then an audible sigh. "I see," Sera muttered at length "Sakaki-san, I think you have logged into a different Duel World than the one Hiiragi-san and I are in at the moment..because we're standing right in front of the Gate."

It took a full ten seconds for Yuuya's brain to register that, and when it did, all that came out of his mouth was a drawn-out "Whaaaaaaat??"

"...You skipped the rest of the tutorial, didn't you?" Yuzu's voice carried a hint of amusement and fondness, before assuming a more serious tone "Okay, look. If you check your Duel Disk, you'll find two arrows in a circle at the top left corner. Click that, and you'll get a list of the five different Duel Worlds in the game. Sera said that something happened before we came here that stopped everyone from travelling between those worlds, and apparently there was a sixth world that we were supposed to log into but didn't...anyway, the highlighted name will show you the world you're in. I'm in the fourth one right now..."

Yuuya listened as Yuzu explained what happened to her after logging into the Duel World, following her instructions all the while. A quick check told him that he was in the second world, the one labeled 'Duel World Series 2'. He nodded along his friends' words, and when she finished, he took yet another look at his surroundings.

"Alright, gotcha, I'm in the second world." He said, and it was then that he decided to head left "I guess I'll go take a look around the place, see if I can find out where everyone else is, and wait until we can all switch to the same world. It's great to hear you're alright, Yuzu. Take care!"

"Hey, that's my line!" She quipped in response, and Yuuya could practically hear the playful grin on her face "But seriously, I'm glad to know you're doing fine too. See you later, Yuuya."

And with that, the line went dead. Not even bothering to turn his Disk off, Yuuya broke into a quick jog, humming a cheerful tune to himself and grinning widely as he started rhyming the tune to his steps. Yuzu was fine, she was okay, they'll find each other soon enough and meet up with their friends, and they'll have tons of fun exploring the game, just as they planned.

Yeah, that's the spirit!

He only slowed down when the smooth, metallic path turned into dirt, patches of grass growing randomly in the way and on the sides, as well as a pair of trees and a few stray daisy bushes. A huge structure that felt so very out of place loomed ahead of him, its futuristic design and neon blue lines contrasting sharply with the simple greenery surrounding it, despite only being separated from that by a ring of gray tiles at the end of the dirt path. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be a floating label above it that spelled out the words "Duel Studio", and a sliding door that opened on its own when Yuuya came close. The Pendulum Duelist stepped through-

"Ack!"

-and promptly crashed into a blur of black, stumbling backwards as a result. Leaning on the now-open door for support, Yuuya nursed his head with his free hand, letting out a small sigh before he looked up to check on whoever it was that he bumped into...and froze when he locked eyes with them.

That shade of gold was...familiar.

Yuuya's eyes widened, and the brunette facing him mirrored the action for a split second, before his shock faded into a passive scowl that clashed with his fluffy, Kuriboh-like hair. Yuuya opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but the taller male turned back to the Duel Studio, subtly motioning for him to come along, and whatever it was that he wanted to say went out of the window.

"Follow me." His voice -slow, deep and clear- carried a distinctly authoritative tone as he strode ahead, and after a moment of apprehension, Yuuya found himself trailing behind. The guy looked like he knew where he was going, and didn't exactly seem opposed to talking to him, which meant he could possibly get some answers to the pile of questions building up in his head, and well, weird gut feelings aside, that was actually a good thing.

The two sat at a round, red table in a distant corner, and then just...stared at each other. Yuuya waited for the Kuriboh-haired Duelist -at least, he guessed he was a Duelist, judging by the strange custom model of a Duel Disk on his left arm- to say something, anything, but nothing came out, and he wasn't sure exactly how to start the conversation, so...he kept waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And then decided that was enough waiting. "Umm...are you even gonna say anything?" Yuuya asked after a full four minutes, half expecting to get no response..

..but the guy actually rolled his eyes at him, like he'd asked a stupid question or something "What are you expecting me to say?"

Huh. Okay, this man was kinda bad at conversing. Yuuya held back a sigh, plastered on a smile instead, and tried again.

"Hmm, how about an introduction? That sounds like a good start." He held out a hand "Nice to meet you, I'm Sakaki Yuuya. And you are..?"

The brunette's stared moved to Yuuya's outstretched hand, then back to his eyes...and then he sighed, holding his own hand to his temples as he mumbled something in a foreign language Yuuya couldn't make out (but assumed was an exasperated statement, based on the tone of what came next).

"Dear Lord, why is it that every single one of them turns out to be a child?"

"Huh?"

"You can see Duel Spirits," He said, pointing at Yuuya. It wasn't even a question, just a factual statement he threw as casually as someone discussing the weather forecast "and you most likely have a special bond with at least one of your cards, that may even go as far as your very soul being bound to it. Is that correct?"

A few moments passed in silence, and then: "How did you-"

"I knew that was the case. Listen to me, Sakaki Yuuya; I do not know the exact extent of your knowledge about the nature of this world, or that of the darkness you possess, but know this-" gold eyes narrowed dangerously, and Yuuya flinched in spite of himself "Duel Links is not just a game. There are greater forces behind the creation of the Duel Worlds, ones that can tamper with your memories and thoughts, even call back beings that were supposed to be gone forever and link different dimensioms. Your status as a Legendary Duelist means you are directly involved in everything that might happen in the new world, so proceed with caution, or prepare to deal with the consequences."

Yuuya reeled back in his chair, face going white. He stared down at his pendulum, gripping its dimly glowing crystal tightly in his hands -had it been doing that for a while? He had no idea. His head was starting to feel light, his throat got all choked up, and he was sure he'd be shaking if not for how tense his muscles were. What- what had he gotten himself into? If he'd known it was more than a game, if he'd known they'd be thrown in the middle of crossfire again-

Deep breaths, Yuuya, deep breaths.. He told himself before he got too lost in thought, inhaling sharply. Calm down, let it out slowly, relax.....yeah, there we go.

"Why are you telling me this?" The teen asked once he was certain his mini-panic attack was over, and he must've been imagining things because he could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on the other's face when he replied.

"In all honesty," he began slowly, the edge to his voice almost completely gone "I have had enough interdimensional conflict to last me a lifetime, and I would really rather not deal with any more of it if I can. I assume you understand where I'm coming from here?"

Yuuya hummed absently, and that seemed to be a satisfying answer to the brown-haired Duelist, who pushed himself out of his seat and turned to leave, but not without allowing himself another final sentence.

"Very well then. For your own sake, as well as everyone you may care about, I hope you're actually smart enough to follow my warning. Until we meet again...or not."

And with that, he walked away, disappearing behind the staircase to the right. As soon as he went out of sight, Yuuya let his head fall down on the table with an unceremonious flump!, making some inchoerent noises when the sound of some lady announcing the end of the 'Maintenance Break' blasted over the intercom above his head, and he became distantly aware of other voices and some footsteps sounding not too far from him.

*tap*

Alright, so he and everyone else have basically jumped into yet another grand scheme that caused conflict across different dimensions, but this time the stakes weren't as clear as in the Interdimensional War.

*tap-tap*

The thought was admittedly daunting, and he was a hundred percent sure no-one he knew would like to go through something like that again..

"Oi."

But on the bright side, it seemed that they weren't the only ones dealing with this sort of thing, which meant they could easily find many allies in the different Duel Worlds...yeah, if they kept an eye out, they should be all right-

"Oi!"

Yuuya's head snapped up when he realized someone was calling out to him, and when he looked up, he was greeted with the smiling face of..

"You again??"

..the same Kuriboh-haired Duelist?

"Sorry, what?"

Yuuya did a double take. Yeah, no, that wasn't him; the eyes were colored soft brown instead of hollow gold, and he was wearing a red jacket instead of a black robe too- Yuuya mentally scolded himself for overlooking the differences (but also found it somewhat funny because, you know, he had to deal with this kind of confusion more than once before).

"Nevermind, I think I confused you for someone else. My bad." He gave the red-jacketed brunette a sheepish grin, gesturing at the empty chair opposite to his, then watching as he placed his also strange custom model of a Duel Disk on the side of the table before sitting down himself, fiddling with the device all the while. Even the way he composed himself was different; this guy felt far more lax and chill compared to the other one, and it made Yuuya relax a bit in turn, the silence that stretched between them feeling more comfortable.

"So, let me guess..." Red Jacket began a bit later, leaning a bit forward with a curious glint in his eyes "You're one of the new kids?"

A small nod "You can say that, I guess. I'm Yuuya, and you?"

"Yuuki Juudai. Pleased to meet you, kiddo- wait, I can call you kiddo, right?"

"Sure, unless you're somehow younger than me, which I doubt because of the..height difference."

Juudai smiled again "Aight, kiddo it is then. I gotta say though, I'm impressed you managed to switch worlds that fast. Took me a whole week to realize that was even a thing."

He laughed, and Yuuya chuckled with him. "Actually.." he said afterwards, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, bashful smile "A friend told me about it, and I couldn't even use it when I first arrived. Something about an error happening with the new world and shutting down the whole game, I think? Yean, that locked out the switch thing for a while, and it stopped everyone from logging out too."

"Woah, for real?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Damn," Juudai slammed a hand down on the table "you sure had one heck of a first day, kiddo. Guide must be freaking out with all of this going on."

Yuuya blinked, confused "Guide?"

"Oh, you don't know her?" The older teen asked, quirking an eyebrow "She's, ah, the Duel Spirit of Tour Guide From the Underworld. Pretty much the one who manages this place, since the actual owner doesn't give a shit about the shenanigans happening around here, and she also runs the Duel School. You can go hit her up if you have any questions about the game; she's a great help for new players."

"A Duel Spirit..." Yuuya echoed quietly, stare moving down to the Deck slot of his Duel Disk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Juudai and asked "So anyone can interact with them here? The spirits, I mean."

"Of course! It's part of the game's charm, y'know?" He answered, throwing a wink at Yuuya before continuing "Being able to hang out with all your monster friends, even if you might not see them in real life..I don't think anyone would pass up on something that cool."

The younger Duelist smiled at that, hand subconsciously touching the top of his Deck, which earned him several happy murmurs and a particularly loud roar as well "Yeah, that does sound pretty cool. I gotta try it sometime later."

"You totally should." Juudai agreed, taking out his own Deck and shuffling through it as he added "In the meantime...would you like a good ol' tabletop Duel? My old-ass relic of a Disk is being particularly laggy today, and I heard you had this cool summon mechanic with the backrow zones- what was it called again? Pendant? Pending?"

"It's Pendulum Summoning." Yuuya clarified, tentatively taking his Deck out of its slot when Juudai did the same "And uh, sure, I can show it to you if you want."

The brunette's smile turned into a wide grin as he whipped out a pair of folded game mats from his pocket and placed them on his and Yuuya's side of the table, putting each of their Decks on the far right before punching a fist in the air "Heck yeah! I'm finally the first to Duel the new kid with the new cards, this is gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Definitely!" He nodded, his own smile widening as he drew his starting hand with a little more flourish than necessary for a tabletop Duel- not that he really cared, what mattered at the moment was that, even if he was going to have to fight again later down the line, he was going to enjoy Dueling to the maximum as long as he could. No use worrying about the future, all he came here to do was have fun, and fun was he going to have.

Watch out, Duel Links, here I come..!

"LET'S DUEL!!"

~~~~~~~

THE END, finally. This, for whatever reason, took me three weeks to finish alongside the other prompts (okay actually Yuuya's POV slipped from me and I barely managed to end it where I did), and I couldn't even make it on time ffs. There goes my plans to deliver all chapters on time...but I at least hope you enjoyed reading. ...Oh yeah, you may have noticed by now that I left some loose ends here and there (like the conclusion of the chapter for the residents of Duel Worlds ZEXAL and 5D's, AKA those poor souls who got a mass reboot error and received no answers as to why), and to that I say...nothing. Yeah, you gotta wait a little while longer to see what happened to them after the reboot. That said, I shall now take my leave and return to the land of Ao3, see y'all on...someday by the end of the month, I guess.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

“That’s My Child”

@idontgiveafuckaboutshit​

Prompt 31: “That’s my child!“

Pairing: Past Romantic Moceit, Familial Roceit, Familial Dukeceit, Familial Royality, Familial Intruality

Trigger Warnings: Divorce/ Seperation, swearing, panic attacks, kinda unsympathetic patton? It’s messy.. --

Janus was livid. He gripped the steering wheel in frustration as the car waited at the lights, the rain over head battering against the car the same way Janus’ thoughts battered his skull. With the bullshit he was constantly left to deal with at work, this was the last goddamn thing he needed on top of it.

“So,”, he sighed, the annoyance already thick in his tone, “What exactly was your plan?”

His passenger flinched, not making eye contact. 

“Roman. I’m waiting.”, Janus’ voice was measured, firm but impatient.

“I told you, I’m Remus-”

“Don’t lie to me. Unlike your father, I can actually tell my sons apart-”

“Padre can tell us apart too!!”, ‘Remus’ retorted defensively. It would have been adorable if Janus wasn’t still fuming.

“Really? Funny that, considering he didn’t notice a goddamn thing until I had to call him and let him know you’d both switched!”

He really hadn’t meant to snap at him. It wasn’t Roman he was angry at, or Remus. No, his anger was reserved for his ex-husband and his negligence. But Janus knew he had to apologise. He waited until the next set of lights, taking a short inhale as he softened his tone.

“I’m sorry, Roman. I’m just… rather upset with your father right now. However, it wasn’t fair of me to-”

“It’s fine.”, Roman mumbled, not meeting Janus’ eyes. “... How’d you know I wasn’t Remus?”

Janus snorted, “You’re asking me how I can tell my twin sons apart? The same baby boys I helped raise together for six years? Come now, Roman, give me a difficult question.”

It was a joke, a rhetorical question at best, but as the car started again, Roman broke the silence so hard, Janus felt the whiplash almost immediately,

“Why did you and Padre break up?”

For a moment, Janus genuinely thought he had just been gut punched. Had Patton really never told Roman what had happened? He could have understood perhaps not telling the lad when he was still young - after all, they were just six years old when he and Patton split - but he was fourteen now, for fuck’s sake!

Being careful not to disrupt traffic, Janus stopped a little further down the street from Patton’s new home, staring out the front window as he gathered himself.

“..... Sometimes,”, Janus began, not making eye contact, “People fall out of love, Roman.”

He didn’t need to look to his side to know Roman’s bright green eyes were staring at him pitifully. 

“Your father… your ‘Padre’ and I,”, Janus chuckled sadly at that, “We’d been together for years, thought the honeymoon phase would never end. That we’d never have an argument we couldn’t solve, or work out.”

The reminiscent smile on Janus’ lips quivered into a frown, “We were foolish. We kept sweeping little problems and issues under the carpet, and for a while it seemed fine. Instead it just got worse and worse and put a strain on our relationship. Patton and I thought that having you and your brother would fix things. But all we did was wind up hurting you both in the process. The fighting got worse and worse, and in the end, we decided we just couldn’t stay together.”

He heard Roman sniffle next to him, grasping his heart in an icy grip. Janus gently wrapped an arm around his son, hugging him close, “That doesn’t mean we regret having either of you, before you even think that.”

Roman hugged closer, an awkwardness in it, but with no lack of sincerity, “But… if it wasn’t for us maybe..”

“Patton and I wouldn’t have worked out even without you two. Some days, I have to remind myself that at least one good thing that came of the relationship was you two.”, Janus assured him.

His son gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You mean Remus, right? He’s your favourite-”

“Nonsense.”, Janus was startled to say the least, “You’re both my sons, I could never pick a favourite between you both.”

The thought nagged at him in the back of his mind, finally letting him voice the question, “..... Does… Does Patton talk like that, Roman?”

“....“, Roman let out a small hum, unsure of whether he should answer, ”... He… sometimes when he’s really stressed.... he says he’s glad you left me with him instead of Remus...”

Janus could hardly stifle the furious scoff that left his mouth before he could cover it. Without another word, he opened the car doors, only asking Roman, “Patton and Remus are the only ones home right now, yes?”

Roman nodded while Janus got out of the car, “Excellent, I’m going to have a word with him. Perhaps several.”

His son got out of the car fearfully asking, “Am I in trouble?”

Janus shook his head, “No, Roman. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The way the weight lifted from Roman’s shoulders had Janus’ mind reeling with questions; just how often had Roman asked that question and received a far less positive response for his reaction to be so pronounced?! What was Patton playing at, treating Remus like he didn’t matter as much as Roman?! The rainy walk to the front door was spent mostly trying to calm the righteous anger he was feeling by the time they reached the doorbell.

That being said, Janus somehow still felt his lungs shrivel to a sixth of their size as the door opened and there stood his ex-husband, looking just as uneasy. Good, Janus had thought, serves him right. Clearing his throat, he greeted Patton politely, “Patton.”

“Janus.”

Well, that tone was less than inviting, but he’d expected it. 

What he did not expect, however, was Remus sat on the stairs just in view of the door looking pretty frantic. His leg was bouncing erratically, his stare was a mile long, and his teeth were devouring his nails like he was a starving man left in the desert. Patton’s voice tore him from his musings, “Roman, come on, you and your brother can stay here for tonight-”

“Excuse me?!”, Janus hissed, “I am not leaving Remus here, look at him!”

Patton didn’t even blink, “It’s fine, they’re better off staying here, Janus-”

Janus gently put his arm out to stop Roman, Patton protesting, “That’s my child!”

“They’re OUR children, Patton!”

All three of them flinched; Janus had never raised his voice so harshly, but the injustice he felt outweighed his ability to stay calm. Remus’ gaze locked on to his father, and Janus choked back the lump in his throat at the relief he saw flash across Remus’ face. So much so, he couldn’t stop himself from uttering,

“What did you do?”, Patton faltered at the question, prompting Janus to clarify, “What did you do to upset Remus?!”

“Nothing!”, Patton protested, “He’s just been like that since you called-!”

“That was half an hour ago, Patton! Are you telling me Remus has been sitting having a panic attack for half an hour!? And you did nothing?!”

Patton threw his hands up defensively, “I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t want to make it worse!”

“And you want them to stay here!? When you didn’t even try to stop our son having a panic attack?!”

Patton muttered harshly under his breath, “Your son, you mean-”. He slapped a hand over his mouth in realisation. His blue eyes - the same eyes Janus once wanted nothing more than to be lost in forever - were wide and glinting with shame.

“I-! I didn’t mean that-!”

“Remus,”, Janus spoke softly despite the fire crackling in his veins, “Can you stand? We’re going home, and Roman’s staying over.”

“Janus, please don’t-!”

“Patton, I’ll drop Roman off tomorrow, and we will talk.”, he assured Patton, with a far more gentle tone than he believed Patton deserved right now, “But can you let me talk to Remus, please?”

Unsure of what else to do, Patton stepped aside to let his ex-husband in. Janus gently knelt next to Remus who clung to his father tightly, muttering over and over, “I’mSorryI’mSorry,ItWasMyIdeaI’mSoSorryDad-”

“It’s alright, breathe in for me, Remus....”

While Janus handled Remus, Patton and Roman stood in silence. Neither knew what to say ; what could they say anyway? Roman finally broke the silence, “We just wanted you and dad to get back together...”

Janus and Patton gave a silence glance as the former guided Remus out the front door. 

“It’s alright,”, Patton assured them, trying his best to hold it together, “Your father and I will work things out...”

His ex-husband’s eyes locked on to Janus’ own, pleading with him, “Right, Jan?”

Janus inhaled steadily, trying to force the emotion out of his face. Hearing that petname again after so long.... a small part of his heart still fluttered at it. He gave Patton a shaky nod, “... We’ll see.”

-- Hahaha, I’m a child of divorce :D

Me projecting onto Moceit? Pfff... no.

This prompt was fun but man, my heart TTnTT

May write a follow up to this if I get more prompts, or one that works with the sequel I have in mind. Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword @ali_is_lazy

[omgitsaddyc]

A never learned how to drive, so B tries to teach them, but B is such a bad teacher that C has to take over

For anyone bc it sounds hilarious no matter who it is

OT3 Prompts #6: A never learned how to drive, so B tries to teach them, but B is such a bad teacher that C has to take over.

It's chaos time with modern au Rikka, Kvyat, and Jason :D

“Loosen up, Sparky. You look like you’re gonna snap the wheel in half.”

“Well maybe if my teacher stopped texting his boyfriend and helped me, I wouldn’t be so nervous.”

Kvyat pulled his seat upright, took his feet off the dashboard, and threw Rikka an unimpressed look.

“What do you need help with?! Just drive! Left is brake, right is gas. I swear to god, it’s not that hard.”

Rikka carefully placed one foot on the brake and the other on the gas, jerkily alternating between the two with her hands still death-gripped around the steering wheel. Thank god they decided to start on their quiet neighborhood street.

After the third attempt at what Kvyat could only imagine was Rikka trying to snap his neck via whiplash, he couldn’t take it anymore. They’d gone maybe ten feet.

“Sparky. What the fuck are you doing?!”

Rikka threw the car into park and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re the world’s shittiest teacher.” She grabbed her loose hair up into a messy ponytail and did her best Kvyat impression. It was pretty spot on. “Just drive!”

Kvyat flipped her off. She returned the gesture, and slammed her hand down on the unlock button.

“Get the fuck out of my car, Fogwyn.” “You can’t drive without another licensed driver in the car.”

She glanced down at the gearshift firmly placed in park. “I’m not driving. Get. Out.”

Kvyat huffed as he took off his seatbelt, and shut the car door with more force than necessary. World’s shittiest teacher, okay. He gave it three days before she was trying to win him back with his favorite takeout as collateral.

Except she didn’t. The very next day, Kvyat spotted Rikka driving; like actually driving around the neighborhood with none other than his very own boyfriend in the passenger seat. What the hell?!

When Rikka spotted him pouting on the sidewalk, she pulled over and leaned an arm out the window. “What’s wrong, Vy? Mad I stole your man? Turns out he’s a much better teacher than you.”

Jason leaned over and peeked out the window with a bashful smile.

Fucker. If he wasn’t so cute, Kvyat might have been able to be annoyed, but he couldn’t.

“Can you drive that thing down to the gas station yet?”

Rikka shrugged, a smug smile still plastered on her self-satisfied face. “Probably. Wanna find out?” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder.

“No backseat driving. I will kick you out. And I won’t slow down to do it.”

Kvyat held up one hand in surrender while the other reached for the door handle. “Alright, alright! No backseat driving. Trust Jay more than you, anyway.”

Rikka rolled up her window and waved his comment away. “Yeah, yeah. And you’re buying me jerky for yesterday. Non-negotiable.”

He folded his arms over his chest and glared out the window, but he couldn’t fight the small smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure. Just change this fuckin’ terrible music, wouldya?”

[captainmeowvelwrites]

All You Knead Is Loave (a miraculous one-shot)

Pairing: Marinette x Adrien Genre: Romance Rating: K+ Words: 2805 Summary: With her clumsiness in full swing, Marinette trips and sends Tikki flying across the classroom. Thinking she's a doll, the ever-crafty Lila accuses Marinette of stealing her—but for a certain clued-up classmate, that just won’t do. (Adrienette reveal fic.)

ANs: Bonjour! This prompted one-shot was written for a one year anniversary event on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server! The prompt, courtesy of Squishysib on AO3, was:

Tikki is somehow revealed to the class, but the class thinks she’s a doll. This could be anything from Marinette tripping and she comes flying out of the purse, to Lila stealing her from Marinette’s bag and claims that Mari stole it from her. Either way Adrien sees Tikki and uses the braincell.

Thanks for the prompt, Sibby! Hope you all enjoy. :D

ALL YOU KNEAD IS LOAVE:

First, her pigtails took twenty-two minutes to come to terms with the concept of symmetry.

Then, she barrelled through the bakery, only for Sabine to point out her shirt was back to front.

Now, she found herself in the midst of another maladroit mistake.

Underestimating the height of a step.

The first step to her seat.

A seat that was conspicuously empty because she was late.

But oh, it didn't stop there.

No no no. The day was just getting started.

Because in that moment of supreme clumsiness, Tikki, who'd been snoozing in the aftermath of a late-night akuma, flew from Marinette's pink clutch.

Time slowed, and in a blur of red and black, the kwami sailed through the air.

Down, down, down.

Until she landed on the hardwood floor, near a pair of brown boots. With eras of practice under her figurative belt, Tikki went rigid in a nanosecond.

But like a fox, Lila pounced. "My doll!"

Marinette's eyes bulged as Lila swiped Tikki off the floor.

"This was a gift from Prince Ali on a trip to Achu," she cried, clutching Tikki to her chest. "I thought it fell out of my bag! I was SO heart-broken."

It was then that crafty eyes honed in on her.

"Why did you have it, Marinette?"

Gasps shook the air.

All eyes in the classroom whipped to her.

Marinette marched up to Lila's desk, her shoulders squared. "Because she's MY doll," she growled, "not yours!"

A two-second silence hung thick in the air.

Frantic chatter erupted. Her classmates spoke over each other, a flurry of questions and accusations flooding the room.

"Children! Children!" Miss Bustier cried over the commotion, holding her hands high. "Settle down, everyone. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for this."

"It's okay, everybody," Lila declared, cradling Tikki in her conniving clutches. "The last place I saw Cindy was Place des Vosges. That's right by her parents' bakery." Her lower lip quivered as she spared the still-frozen kwami a dramatic glance. "Maybe Marinette just found her and didn't know who she belonged to." She sent the fuming girl a shaky smile. "Right, Marinette?"

"No!" Marinette sliced a hand through the air. "No, that's NOT right at all! I've had her for over a year and—"

Lila gasped, pressing Tikki to her chest as if expecting Marinette to lunge. "You're not refusing to leave Cindy with her rightful owner, are you?"

"But, Lila, you're not the rightful owner."

Marinette's sights shifted left.

Because someone had shared that truth.

With startling certainty.

But that someone hadn't been her.

A wall of windows framed Adrien's body, spilling light across his golden hair like a literal halo of sunshine. The human embodiment of an angel, watching over her clumsy self. He stared down Lila, his jaw tight and his eyes ablaze. It was an expression she was well-acquainted with, though she'd only ever seen it in another pair of eyes, on another face, from another boy.

"Her name is Tikki and she belongs with Marinette."

Every cell in her body screeched to a halt.

"I know this because she's one half of a pair—"

He wasn't another boy!

"—and I just so happen to own the other doll."

Adrien reached beneath his white overshirt, revealing a black doll with green eyes and a wiry tail. Only, it wasn't a doll at all. It was an unmoving Plagg, right there in Adrien's palm.

In Chat Noir's palm.

Her Kitty.

Her Adrien.

The same person.

Currently sending her his softest smile, eyes creased and imploring and utterly heart-melting.

"Right, Marinette?"

Reality struck with the subtlety of a spaceship. She shook her head with whiplash-inducing suddenness. Or did she already have whiplash?

…

Chat Noir is Adrien!

…

His eyes flickered over her face and slowly, his smile sank. "Marinette?"

Wait.

She'd shaken her head.

That meant she disagreed.

But she didn't.

Because Adrien was right.

Marinette nodded like a bobblehead stuck in an earthquake, fixing her tragic faux pas.

…

Adrien is Chat Noir!

…

He stepped between her and Lila and held out an expectant hand, palm up and waiting. "Thanks, Lila," he chimed, as cool as a whole patch of cucumbers, "for returning Tikki to Marinette."

Lila's lips moved, spelling what were probably more lies. Marinette was too busy fighting the blaring MAYDAY in her brain. Adrien Agreste, her larger-than-life partner. Chat Noir, her angelic classmate and year-long crush.

And if his face showed his thoughts, each one was hidden; he stood between her and Lila, quiet as his hand inched closer to the latter. His fingers beckoned like a silent encouragement. Or a silent hurry up.

A nerve twitched in Lila's temple, and Marinette's mouth fell open as Lila reluctantly placed Tikki—poor Tikki, stuck in a pose that looked awfully uncomfortable—into Adrien's awaiting palm. His fingers curled around her kwami like she was a living thing.

Because she was.

She was and Adrien knew it.

Just like he knew she was Ladybug.

He… knew she was…

"I'm so sorry, Adrien!" Lila threw both hands to her lips. "You too, Marinette. I don't know what came over me. My rare disease must be acting up again!"

Marinette's lips parted.

Some sort of strangled sound escaped them.

She should've just kept quiet.

"It's all right." A smile lined Adrien's voice. The same voice that delivered silly puns, cheesy one-liners and words of affirmation, all behind a black, leather mask. "If you'd like a referral for a great doctor, I can ask Father for some recommendations."

"Wow!" Lila pressed her palms together, flaunting a sickeningly sweet grin. "That's so nice of you, Adrien. I might just take you up on that!"

"No problem." But as he faced Marinette, she was eighty five percent sure she glimpsed the tail end of a grimace. Then, their eyes met, and his wrinkled with a smile, glistening green like dew-dusted fields, like early spring, like Chat Noir's.

Adrien stepped closer and held out his hand, Tikki stiff in his palm.

Marinette stared. She stared at his hand. She stared at Tikki. She stared at the shine of silver around his ring finger.

Marinette "Staring" Dupain-Cheng.

That was her name now—

A cough cut through the air. It sounded suspiciously like Alya.

But something else yanked her back to reality.

A warmth around her hand.

His gloveless fingers curled around hers, placing Tikki in her trembling grasp.

Trembling because he was her partner, her kitty…

And he knew it too.

Adrien guided her hand to her chest. "She's back where she belongs." His touch was tender, so very warm, and dare she think, loving. "With you, Mariboo."

Marinette's eyes blew wide. Her face was an actual sun, her heart a pounding conga drum, and by the way her jaw slackened, words were a foreign concept.

Adrien pressed a palm to her forehead, and she went stiff as a mannequin. "Excuse me, Miss Bustier? I think Marinette's running a fever." No, but give her five seconds and good God, she might be.

"No no no!" She peeled his palm away. "I am totally—"

One wink from her kitty.

"—uhh – in need of a qualified ice pack! I mean nurse!" She offered an affirmative nod. "Yes. A qualified nurse. Who can give me an ice pack. For my forehead. Which is on fire."

Adrien turned back to the teacher. "May I please have your permission to walk her to the nurse's office?"

"You're both excused," said Miss Bustier, beaming from the front of the classroom. "Take care, Marinette."

"I'm sure he will!" Marinette lurched ramrod straight. "I mean, I'm sure I will. Take care. So much care." She showed a double thumbs up. "And so will Chadrien—dah!—Adrien. Of me. He will take so much care of me."

From the corner of her eye, a hand appeared on her shoulder.

"Thanks, Miss Bustier!"

Even through her black blazer, the heat of his hand radiated as he guided her out of the classroom and into the sunny spring air.

It wasn't until they reached a quiet corner of the courtyard that Marinette realised three things:

She'd eyeballed his hand since its arrival on her shoulder.

Two hands now held her shoulders in place of one.

Both hands were trembling.

Marinette gazed at the boy before her. His eyes – the same eyes that glowed green during late-night patrols – pored over every inch of her face.

And finally, they found her own.

Gradually, his lips parted—

"I expect one heaping pile of cheese after THAT whole charade!"

Plagg emerged between them, a crease on his forehead and his tiny arms crossed.

It was then, as Tikki flew from her palm to hover near her shoulder, that Marinette realised she'd spent that whole time laying comatose in her hand. "Plagg," her kwami growled, hands on her hips, "they were about to have a moment!"

"So whaaat?" Plagg flicked a dismissive hand, suspended mid-air as though splayed across a sunlounger. "The cat's outta the bag! They have all the time in the WORLD to have more moments." He flipped upside down. "Besides, being a doll really worked up my appeti—"

Tikki fired him one of the fiercest glares Marinette had ever seen. And not just from her kwami.

Plagg righted himself, ears flattening. "Err – What I meant to say is that YOU must be starving, Sugar Cube." She shoved her nose to the cloudless sky with a little harumph, so he zoomed to her side. "You stayed still for SO long. It was very impurressive!"

Marinette pursed her lips. Apparently, Plagg cat punned too. "I'm so sorry for this whole mess, Tikki." Her kwami's face brightened as she held up a pink macaron. "Tomorrow, I'll be sure to bake you a whole batch of these little guys!"

Meanwhile, Adrien tossed a wedge of camembert in the air. "And I'll be sure to order an entire box of Pont l'Eveque," he promised, as Plagg downed the wedge in one gulp. "Just for you, buddy."

Plagg rubbed his belly and burped. "It's a start, I suppose."

"So," Adrien said, sights settling on her, "now I know you're a baker's daughter." His eyes gleamed. "I'd batter get a batch of puns in the oven, huh?"

Yup. That was her silly kitty, all right.

A giggle escaped her. "As long as your puns aren't stale," she countered, complete with a cheeky grin.

With gentle fingers and a gentler smile, he looped a strand of hair behind her ear. "Only the freshest for you, Mariboo."

Heat flamed up her face as she gawped at him, speechless.

Was he—

Was she—

Were they flirting?

Adrien bolted upright. "S-Sorry!" He rubbed the nape of his neck. "Old habits pie hard, I guess."

Marinette blinked at him.

Once.

Twice.

Finally, she made words happen.

"N-N-No!"

Kind of.

With a clear of her throat, Marinette tried again. "No, it's okay, Adrien." She reached for his hands, hearing his soft gasp as her skin brushed his. "I loave your puns."

His lips quirked up.

"You wouldn't be you without them." She threaded their fingers, free of leather and latex. He was so, so warm. "And thank you, Kitty," she breathed, giving his hands the lightest squeeze, "for all your help back there."

"Of course, M'Lady." Her heart fluttered, first at the title, then at the way he squeezed her hands right back. "You and me against the world, right?"

"Always."

A soft smile painted his lips.

It was so Adrien.

So Chat Noir.

So him—

"Y'know," he whispered, his voice feather light, "I could glaze into your eyes all day."

The sentiment of those words shone true in his own and before she knew it, Marinette was bringing her lips up to his. It was a light kiss. A quick kiss. Too sudden to let herself tremble. Too sudden to let him return it. Even as she pulled back, the warmth of his lips lingered on hers like an irrefutable fact.

She'd just kissed Adrien Agreste.

His mouth popped open, closed, open again.

Apparently, her kiss had turned him into a goldfish.

Oh God.

No no no no no.

Nerves exploded in her chest.

Had she misread his cute comment?

Marinette leapt back. "Sorry! Sorry! I am SO sorry!" She clutched her scalp in both hands and started to pace. "I – I thought— I mean, you were just so sweet and I—"

Adrien sprung forward to grip her elbow. "Date!" He slapped that same hand to his chest, panic flashing in his eyes. "I mean, would you like to date me?" One shake of his head. "No. Uh. Go on a date with me?" He kneaded his temples. "Which might lead to dating. If you'd like. But if not, that's fine too. There's still that boy and you—"

Marinette cut him off with a laugh of relief. “Silly cat.” She re-tangled her fingers with his, peering up at him through full lashes. “You ARE the boy”—oh, the irony—"and you always HAVE been.”

Adrien gaped, once again embracing his inner-fish. “I… I am?”

Chewing her lip, she nodded—slowly but surely.

In the moments that followed, his look of sheer shock transformed into unbridled joy. He leaned in close, their hands weaved together, and oh, she could definitely get used to this. "So, Marinette, what would you say if you and I met up tonight for a little dinner? Rooftop style?"

"I'd say that sounds purrfect."

Just like the sunshine smile that brightened his face in that moment.

She might've booped his adorable nose, had his hands not been so warm, so soft, so perfect in hers. Instead, she traced a thumb up the side of his hand, and her heart thrummed as he did it right back.

"Marinette?" Adrien's gaze flicked from her to his feet and back again. "Now that we're on the same page"—the tips of his ears flushed pink—"I'd loave to kiss you again… if you have dough complaints—"

Marinette moved onto her tiptoes and answered with her lips on his.

And this time, he kissed back. Lightly. Nervously. Perfectly imperfect.

One brush of his lips. Their noses bumped. They shared an awkward laugh and an angle readjustment; then, their lips reunited like two pieces of a puzzle, melding as wonderfully as his hands in hers.

Those same hands left her own, and her lips stilled on his. Until his arms stuttered around her. Inched her closer. Hesitated. She slid her hands through his golden locks, softer than mulberry silk. Her pulse fluttered as he melted against her, the delicious aroma of cologne filling her senses. Sweet. Spicy. Dizzying.

Like a budding artist to white canvas, each brush of their lips came more surely than the last—

A whiny groan had them springing apart. "Humans show affection in the most DISGUSTING of ways," Plagg droned, sticking out his pink tongue.

Marinette assumed the shade and heat of a chili. She jerked to throw her hands over her eyes, but as she glimpsed Adrien's endearing expression, they stopped just shy of her face. He'd revealed the most adorable of pouts and dawww, her poor heart was about ready to burst.

"Pla-Plagg," Adrien sputtered, and she imagined his tail going straight as a sabre. "That – That was our"—he hesitated, counting on his fingers—"fourth kiss you just interrupted!"

Plagg snorted. "Yeah, and I'm sure there'll be plenty more where THAT came from."

Tikki shot Plagg a scowl.

He whipped behind Adrien, peeking over his shoulder.

With a heart-stuttering smile, Adrien recouped his composure like a stumbling runway model, a blunder she knew for a fact he'd never done. He ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair and God, he sure looked like her kitty now. "Guess Plagg had better get used to the kisses"—he took her hands in his, his eyes twinkling—"because yours are unfurgettable."

"Except for the first two times when they weren't—"

"Plagg!" Adrien's pout returned with a vengeance. His red-tipped ears, twice as much.

Through a giggle, Marinette squeezed his hands. "Magic notwithstanding," she said, and placed a reassuring peck on his cheeks. "And back cat ya, my kitty."

Adrien's eyes went wide as a chasm, that pawsitively adorable blush creeping down his ears to his cheeks. Soon, his face softened, and a dreamy sigh slid from his lips. "I love when mew call me that."

First, her pigtails had taken twenty-two minutes to come to terms with the concept of symmetry.

Then, she'd barrelled through the bakery, only for Sabine to point out her shirt was back to front.

After, she'd tripped on a step and nearly lost her poor kwami to Lila.

But now, here she was, hand-in-hand with her friend, her partner, the love of her life.

And with their first date tonight, the day was just getting started.