#you know those spiky dog collars? he should wear one of those as well

[belle--ofthebrawl]

i see your mountain in a service dog themed body harness and ask. would any ghoul get stuck in the "nervous" dog vest

I don't think so...but I do think Dew should wear something to indicate he's best approached when Aether is around.

[edxwin-elric]

Darkest Roads - Ch. 1

Chapter 1: 30k Cens

(art by @ayanthos​)

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Total Word Count: 15k

Chapter Word Count: 4.5k

Description: Edwin Street Race AU - fluff/drama

Edward, an angst-ridden teenage daredevil, has it rough. Practically living on the streets, constantly worrying about his younger brother, and always looking over his shoulder has hardened him, giving him a reputation on the streets of Central City. Though, in truth, his bark is worse than his bite—something Winry finds out when a search for a rare car part lands her in the middle of illegal street racing. One look at the innocent blonde mechanic standing alone among the loud voices, revving engines, and squealing breaks, in a haze of exhaust and cigarette smoke has Ed ready to throw himself at her feet. But his sins are piling up, and he knows better than to try to involve an adorable auto shop princess in his mess. But Winry has secrets of her own, and despite all of his efforts, she’s impossible to resist.

A/N: It's finally here! FMA Big Bang!! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm super grateful to @ayanthos​ for her AMAZING art contribution to this collab! I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know in the comments, and please check out the other works from this event!! @fmabigbangs​

ffn || ao3 || tag

next chapter

Winry

Glancing at the GPS on my phone, I stop walking and look at the street sign. I lean forward a little, my feet shifting on the sidewalk, and glance down the dark alley. A shiver runs down my spine, but I take a deep breath. I bite my lip and look at the time. Past midnight. This is a reckless idea… but I can’t go home now, not when I’ve come this far.

“Okay,” I concede softly to myself, trying to calm my nerves. “I mean, this is where it says to turn.”

I step off the main road into the shadows, pulling my jacket closer to me. I hear something scurrying to my right, and I start to walk faster. Gripping my phone tight in my pocket, I continue to follow the twists and turns it gives me until I turn left onto Cardinal Street, which actually looks almost habitable, and hear engines revving nearby.

As I get closer, the blind panic starts to dissipate, only to be replaced by a new kind of anxiety.

“Paninya, what have you gotten me into?” I mutter to myself as I turn the last corner and—

Choke.

I’m suddenly lost in a haze of cigarette smoke. Coughing, I stumble to the side, only to find a tall, angry person, who pushes me away.

“Sorry,” I sputter.

Crap. This is not going well. I move away, and wave my hands around my face. The air clears enough to give me a decent view of the stretch of crowded road in the hazy streetlights.

Yep. This is definitely the place. Sinners’ Lane. (That’s not the official name of course, but…it might as well be.)

To my right, loud bass music thumps out of various car speakers. On top of those cars are couples in various positions of…intimacy. I feel a blush spread down my neck, and I turn the other way. To my left are the angry smoking guy and some other guys who are also smoking and look just as angry, though some of them seem to be holding cigarettes while some are holding what I can only assume are joints. Past them are clusters of girls dressed…scantily. Not necessarily distastefully, though, I just don’t think I’d ever be able to pull off a look like that. I squint at them… Is that a shirt or a bra?

The loud sound of an engine revving makes me jerk. I look past the girls to the main attraction.

A street race.

Two rumbling sports cars inch forward until they’re waved at to stop at the makeshift starting line. I see the two drivers throwing up rude hand gestures to each other, and one says something that makes the other one jerk his neck and rev his engine.

“Remember,” a spiky-haired guy wearing a fur-collar vest calls out, as he walks in between the cars. “It’s the first one to the second stop sign. Winner take all. Anything goes.”

He slaps his hands on the hoods of both cars and spins around, facing the drivers.

“You can go when my lady, Lust, gives you the signal. Good luck!”

He walks off to the side, and a lady with hair down to her knees walks out in his place. Her hips sway in ways that shouldn’t even be possible, and the way her chest is contained in that strapless dress defies the laws of gravity and…other physics.

“Play nice, boys,” she calls seductively, and the guys in the surrounding crowd whoop and whistle.

Then she whips out a green flag from…somewhere and the two cars fly past her. I barely have time to turn my head before they’ve roared by, heading for the end of the street. The Dodge wins by a split second. They slow and turn down opposite side streets, and I can only assume they’re driving back around to settle things.

But I didn’t really come here to watch. I’m on a mission.

“So…” I whisper under my breath. “If I were selling car parts to these guys, where would I be…”

I scan the street again, and…honestly, I have no clue. Looking back at the starting line, two new cars are setting up to go. The guy with the leather and fur looks like he’s in charge. I guess maybe he can help me.

Moving through the crowd, I inch past different groups of people, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, until I’m fairly close to where the guy was standing during the last race.

A loud bang! catches me off guard, and I jump. I look toward the sound to see the boss guy holding one of the potential racers by the front of his shirt. He’s got him pulled halfway out of his driver’s side window, and they’re practically nose to nose.

I feel my throat lock up as cold races down my spine.

“Don’t you ever try to short me again, little punk.”

“I’m s-sorry, Mr. Greed, sir,” the driver whimpers. “I swear, it’ll never happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t,” the boss guy snarls, “or you know what’ll happen.”

The driver visibly swallows, and I can almost see his fear like an aura surrounding him.

“Good.” The boss sets him down in his car and pats his shoulder. “Glad we understand each other.”

When he moves away, he turns toward me, and I freeze when his eyes meet mine. Or rather, his circle sunglasses. Who the hell wears circle sunglasses at night? Or at all?

He grins at me, and I take a step back, stumbling into someone.

“Hey! Watch it!”

I turn around and duck my head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Oh really?” a sarcastic voice snaps back. “Is that some sort of short joke!”

“What?” I blink and look up at the guy talking.

He’s a very angry blonde guy wearing a red leather jacket, black leather pants, and black combat boots. The leather gloves are a nice touch. His hair is tied up in a ponytail except for his bangs that fall in his eyes. Honestly, he’d be kind of cute if he weren’t vibrating with rage.

“You trying to say I’m some kind of pipsqueak!?”

“N-no,” I say softly, confusion muddling my brain. I mean, he’s taller than me—only by a few inches, but still. Plus, I don’t even know him. “I j-just…”

“You are a pipsqueak, Elric.” A guy with a dog collar walks up and throws his arm around him.

“WHAT?” Blonde Guy twists violently out of the guy’s embrace, looking murderous. “Get your hands off me, Dolcetto!”

“Give the girl a break, kid. She’s clearly lost.”

Oh no. Is it that obvious I don’t belong here?

“I’m not lost,” I protest, but my voice wavers, and I know I’m blushing.

The blonde guy looks at me again, and his face loses some of its anger. And I was right. He is kind of cute.

“No, seriously, what are you doing here, princess?” he asks, crossing his arms. “Aside from assaulting the locals.”

“Don’t call me ‘princess,” I snarl, “and I wasn’t assaulting–”

“Giving our guest a hard time, Edward?”

I feel a shadow fall over me, and I shiver at the smooth voice behind me.

“What? No. I was just talking to–”

The shadow moves closer, and the blonde guy drops his arms, his hands clenching into fists. I catch his eye, and it’s like I can hear him telling me to run for it. But I can’t move. There’s a moment of deafening noise as the cars behind us take off, and then the voice speaks again.

“Did you need something, Miss?”

Slowly, I turn to face him, the guy with the circle sunglasses, the one who is way scarier than I first realized.

“Um, n-no. I was just… I was just–”

“Are you cold?” he offers gently, his current demeanor nothing like the guy who threatened the driver a few seconds ago. “I can get you something warm to drink. My name is Greed. I’m sort of the boss around here.”

“No.” I shake my head, hugging myself tighter. “No, thank you, Mr.…Greed.”

I might be shivering, but it’s not from the cold.

“Just Greed is fine.”

“Oh, okay. Um. Actually, I was hoping to find someone who sells rare engine parts,” I tell him in a rush before softly adding, “I’m a mechanic.”

“Oh, a mechanic?” He grins broadly and holds out his arm, his other sliding around my shoulder. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He starts pulling me down the street, and I feel panic flood my veins.

“I know just the person to help you with–”

“I can help you.”

I jerk my head toward the voice only to find the blonde guy—Edward, I guess—watching us intently. I plead to him with my eyes to save me. I’m not sure if he’s really any more trustworthy than Greed, but something about him feels…safe.

Or safer, I guess.

“It’s no trouble, Elric,” Greed tells him, his voice thinning slightly. “I can take care of Miss…”

“Rockbell,” I supply without thinking.

I immediately want to rip my tongue out when I see Edward wince. I’m so dumb. Obviously, I shouldn’t tell any of these people my name.

“Miss Rockbell,” Greed finishes, his voice clearly sugar-coated now.

“But aren’t you busy with the races?” Edward cuts in quickly.

“Dolcetto and Martel–”

“I just saw three half-drunk guys with a ‘Vette pull up in the back. They look like the usual trust funders and ripe for the picking.”

“A ‘Vette you say?” Greed’s tune changes sharply. “Hmm. Still…Dolcetto and Martel should be able to handle a few–”

“And you know I know all the best dealers on this block,” Edward jumps in again. “It would make more sense for me to take her.”

Greed releases me slowly and looks between me and Edward before nodding.

“Aha. I think I see what’s going on here.” He grins again and waves me toward the blonde boy. “Go ahead, Elric. Show her the, uh, dealers. Just make sure you wrap up first.”

I blink at him confused before Edward mutters some profanity under his breath and shoves his gloved fingers through his bangs.

Did I say he was cute? Because he’s not. I’m not sure what happened, but all of the sudden, he turned…hot. Like really hot.

Oh my God. I don’t have time to be thinking about that right now.

Greed saunters off wearing a smirk, and I take a step toward my attractive would-be savior.

At least, I hope.

Edward

Shit. How did I end up here?

Not racing, like I want to be, but instead staring at a perfect blonde princess that Greed basically just told me to go fuck in an alley somewhere.

“What was he talking about?” she asks quietly.

“Huh?”

“What he said just now—Greed. What did he mean?”

I blink at her, and glance away in bewilderment, before looking back.

“What exactly are you referring to?” I return slowly, hoping her question doesn’t mean what I think it meant.

“About you ‘wrapping up first?’ What does that have to do with auto part dealers?”

I press my lips together, and reach up to rub the back of my neck. I mean, did she really not get he was referring to use having sex? Fuck. She really wound up in the wrong place tonight.

“Nothing,” I mutter when I realize she’s still waiting on an answer. “Just, um…ignore that.”

“Oh. Okay.” She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. “So, you were going to show me where to get engine parts?”

“Yeah. Follow me.”

I turn around and start down the sidewalk. I figure I’ll start with Donovan. If he doesn’t have what she needs, he’ll know who does. I pause at the corner of the alley and look over my shoulder, only the princess isn’t there.

“What the hell?” I hiss. “Where did she go?”

Weaving back through the crowd, I find her where I left her, shivering and looking around wildly.

“I told you to follow me,” I growl, grabbing her hand.

“What?” she gasps. “Oh!”

I pull her out of the way of some stumbling drunken assholes, pushing her against the wall and shielding her with my body.

“You okay?”

She licks her lips and looks anywhere but at my face.

“I’m fine,” she whispers finally, and it’s hard to ignore her flushed cheeks. “I didn’t see where you went, and I…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I step back when they’ve moved off down the sidewalk and start to pull her after me again.

“Hey, Edward?” she calls, practically jogging to keep up with me.

“Yeah?”

“Is your hand, um, automail?”

I freeze mid-step and round on her again. “What of it? Is that a problem for you?”

“No,” she glares, and I’m almost surprised. The princess has more guts than I realized. “I was just curious. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

I wince, and then shake my head. I don’t have time to feel sorry for hurting some random girl’s feelings.

“Come on. I thought you needed auto parts.”

Without waiting for her to answer, I grab her hand again and take off. We reach Donovan’s without any more interruptions, but his lights are off, so I stop at the bottom of the stairs and tell her to wait while I go knock.

She nods, and I go up slowly, knocking on the cracked doorframe three times, and waiting. I hear the sound of bolts sliding back, and finally, the door cracks a few millimeters.

“Who is it?” a low voice asks.

“Tell Donovan it’s me,” I answer, leaning on the frame.

“Elric? I thought he told you to piss off. He won’t do business with the Devil’s Nesters anymore.”

“I’m not here for them,” I say quickly before the door shuts. “I have a new buyer looking for engine parts.”

“Name?”

“Rockbell.”

I hear the princess gasp, and I wave at her to shut up.

“Wait here.”

I sigh as the door clicks shut. After a few seconds, I jump over the stairs onto the street, landing in a crouch in front of the girl. She flinches in surprise, and I laugh silently.

“Don’t scare me like that,” she hisses. “What did he say?”

“I’m waiting to see. If Donovan will see you, you’ll probably find what you need.”

“Oh. Good.”

“You said your name was Rockbell?” I turn to her, and she tucks her hair behind her ear.

I instantly notice a string of piercings along the delicate curve. I’m tempted to touch them.

“Yes.” She nods.

“Is there a first name to go with that?”

“Well… I mean…”

“You know mine,” I remind her. “And if you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to keep calling you, ‘princess,’ all night.”

“Winry,” she tells me with a huff. “I’m Winry.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

She opens her mouth to say something I can only expect will be sassy when the door opens and Donovan’s huge frame fills the entry.

“Come in, and make it quick.”

I lead us in, and he locks the door immediately. Winry stares at the five deadbolts and two chains with wide eyes, and I bite my lip. She’s fucking adorable.

“Don’t panic,” I say, as she squeezes my automail tighter. “He’s just paranoid.”

“I think you mean cautious,” Donovan booms as he moves past us to his living room. “Come this way.”

Winry sits close to me on the couch while Donovan takes up residence in a large chair. There’s no sign of whoever I spoke to at the door, but that’s not really a concern right now.

“What is it you need, Miss Rockbell?”

“I’m looking for this.”

She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a detailed design drawn on a thinning piece of graph paper.

Donovan takes it, and I watch his eyes squint with a frown.

“This is…hmm.” He studies the image closer. “What did you say you needed this for again?”

“I didn’t,” Winry answers softly. “But that shouldn’t matter, should it?”

She looks over at me, and I shrug one shoulder. I’m not curious about her reasons, and when I contact dealers for parts, they all know better than to ask me what I need them for. That probably has to do more with my relationship with the Devil’s Nest than my street cred, but either way.

“I suppose not,” he mutters gruffly, still scrutinizing the paper.

Eventually, he sets it down and turns to her. “That piece is very rare. Difficult to track down.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “That’s why I came here.”

“I can get it for you, but it’ll be a few days, and it won’t be cheap.”

“I can pay.”

“Edward, will you be running point on this?” Donovan looks at me before turning to Winry. “Or how should I expect to get it to you when I have it?”

“I, um…”

“I’ll take care of it,” I volunteer. “Just let me know when it’s in, and I’ll handle the exchange.”

“Fine.” The large man stands. “In total, the cost is two hundred. I require half now, and half after Ed delivers the part.”

“Two hundred cens?” her musical voice pipes up, and I shoot a look at Donavan, who is frowning deeply.

“Thousand,” I hiss at her.

“What?” she gasps.

“Two hundred thousand cens,” I clarify, hoping she catches on quickly.

“Right, um, okay.” Winry reaches into her jacket again, looking flustered. “I have… I have, um…”

Her hands are shaking as she pulls out a wrinkled envelope. I reach out and put my hand on hers, fully aware of Donovan’s eagle eyes on us.

“Do you have it?” I whisper, trying not to let her hear the dread in my voice.

Her eyes take on a sheen of tears, and I already know the answer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

She doesn’t have the money, and Donovan will be pissed we wasted his time. Even more pissed at me because I knew better than to bring in a buyer who couldn’t pay.

Shit.

“Is there a problem?”

“Just give us a second,” I answer without taking my eyes off of her, trying not to let her see my panic. “How much do you need?”

“Thirty thousand,” she ekes out, glancing at Donovan and then back at me. “I get paid tomorrow, and I have the rest at home, I just didn’t know I needed that much at once. I–”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover the difference.”

It’ll suck but it’s way worse than the alternative.

She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head, but before I overthink it, I slide three bills out of my wallet and into her envelope.

“Edward–”

“Here you go.” I grab the envelope out of her frozen fingers and stand, handing it to him.

“Excellent.”

I stand there while he counts it, and then turn to collect Winry as he leads us to the door.

“Thank you for your business, Miss Rockbell.” He shakes her small hand in his large one before turning to me. “Edward, I’ll be in touch.”

“Until then.”

We duck out, and the door closes behind us.

“Now what?” Winry asks as we walk down the steps to the abandoned sidewalk. “Do we go back to the race?”

“No. Now, I go back to the race, and you go home to your castle.”

“I don’t live in a castle–”

“You do in comparison to this shithole,” I interrupt her harshly. “But that’s not even my point. You can’t come down here again. Ever.”

“But…then how am I supposed to get the part I need?”

Not by coming to the Lane.

“I’ll bring it to you.”

Somehow. My baby’s sitting on blocks at the Devil’s Nest garage. That thirty thousand I just gave her was supposed to be the last payment I needed to finish her body work. And since I spent tonight leading Winry around, I didn’t get any racing in, so Greed won’t be inclined to give me a cut of the profits. Usually I can make at least a hundred grand on a night like this. Plus, I told Al I’d go to the grocery store this week. We need bread and milk—milk, ew, I might forgo getting any of that—and I think the toilet paper is running low.

“You have a cell phone?”

“Um, of course.”

“Give me your number.”

She freezes, and I tilt my head at her, waiting.

“You want my number? Why?”

I roll my eyes slightly and then back to her. “So I can text you when your part comes in and we can meet somewhere?”

I watch her eyes close and her face turn pink.

“Right. I’m an idiot.” She shakes her head. “Here, give me your phone, and I’ll put it in.”

“Sorry. Battery’s dead.”

She blinks as if that’s an entirely foreign concept to her, which it probably is.

“Okay, then let me write it down.”

She reaches into her jacket again, and I wait.

“Oh. I forgot. I don’t have a pen or anything.” She meets my eyes again. “Um…”

“Just tell it to me,” I say, trying not to grin. She’s too adorable to be real.

“What?”

“Your number. Just tell me. I’ll remember it.”

“Are you sure? I bet I can, um–”

“You’re not going to find a pen around here if that’s what you were about to say. Seriously, just tell me the number.”

She exhales, and I’m temporarily stunned by the way her lips part.

“Okay then.”

She says it slowly, and then repeats it, giving me time to commit each digit to memory. After, I echo it back to her, just to be sure.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“Excellent. I’ll text you when I have it.”

“Should you give me your number, so I know it’s you?”

“Will you remember it?”

She rolls her eyes, and I bite my cheek, so I won’t smile at her. Fuck, this girl is dangerous to my reputation. If Greed caught me smiling at a girl, he’d own me for life.

“I have my phone right here.” She pulls it out of her pocket and holds it out to me. “You can just save your number right now.”

I could, but…where’s the fun in that?

“That’s okay.” I wave her off. “Trust me, you’ll know it’s me.”

“For some reason, I don’t doubt that,” she mumbles. “Well, I guess this is goodbye then.”

“Do you know how to get home?”

She holds up her fancy cell phone. “It has GPS, so I think I’ll be okay.”

“Right.” I glance over my shoulder and then back at her. “Listen, go straight home. Don’t follow me back toward the race, and don’t wander around. Walk fast and try to stay in better lit areas if you can. This area isn’t safe, especially for pretty girls on their own.”

God, it’s a miracle she even made it here, now that I think about it. Especially with that huge amount of cash in her purse.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“What?” I frown at her. “No.”

She raises her eyebrows, and my hands clench into fists.

“You’re completely missing my point,” I growl. “This area is dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself.”

She tosses her head, and I feel some of my irritation fade. She is just so damn cute. And that’s the problem.

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” I confess gently, “but all the same you need to be careful.”

“I could text you when I get home,” she suggests jokingly, “but you’d have to give me your number for that.”

I’m half-tempted to take her up on it, but the last thing my piece-of-shit phone needs are texts from a girl to kill its crappy battery even faster. Fuck, I need to put a new phone on my list of Shit I Need But Can’t Afford.

“That’s okay. As long as you go straight there you should be fine.” I slide my hands into my jacket pockets and start toward the race.

“Okay. Bye.”

I nod at her over my shoulder just in time to see her turn around and start typing into her phone. I shake my head and take a left down the alley. When I make it back to Dolcetto, I feel a surge of guilt.

What if she gets lost? Or mugged? Or worse.

A sickening feeling spreads through my stomach, and I start to turn back.

“Edward, what happened to your pretty new friend?” I groan internally at Greed’s voice. “Did you two get the part she needed?”

“Yes,” I answer flatly, turning to face him.

“And did you get what you needed?”

“I didn’t fuck her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Ah, but you wanted to.”

My jaw pops, and I tilt my head back to glare at him. He doesn’t need to know he’s a tiny bit right.

“There’s no point in denying it,” Solaris, or Lust, I guess, since we’re in public, sidles up to him, and slides under his arm. “I could practically smell the desire rolling off of you.”

“Leave her alone,” I snap. “Besides, it’s not like she’s coming back anyway.”

“Ouch.” Greed fakes a wince. “You struck out that bad?”

“Aw, let him be, Greed,” Lust smirks at me, resting her cheek against Greed’s fur collar. “Can’t you see he’s trying to be a gentleman?”

“Elric? A gentleman,” he scoffs with laughter. “Please.”

“Look, you made his face all red,” Lust purrs.

“I’m pretty sure I can find something better to be doing right now,” I mutter, turning away.

“Wait, Elric,” Greed calls me back, and I sigh because as much as I’m ready to get out of here, he’s sort of someone I can’t ignore.

“What now?”

“Tomorrow I expect you to actually race something. As short-fused as you are, you’re the best driver I can put behind a wheel. Tomorrow is the start of winter break for Central U, so I expect more of a turnout than tonight. Don’t miss it.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’m supposed to close tomorrow at the butcher shop where I work part time, but then I shut it. If I tell Sig I need to take off early to go to the grocery store, he’ll probably let me, even though he’ll also probably know I’m lying. Still, it should be fine unless his wife is around. I can never get a lie past her.

But I can’t worry about that right now.

“I’ll be here.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Greed grins. “Now, go home to that brother of yours and get some sleep.”

He turns away, and I feel like I can breathe again. Getting mixed up with the Devil’s Nest was never something I planned on doing, but when you grow up on these streets you don’t have a lot of options. Still, I can hold my own better than most, and generally, I just keep my head down and do what I have to.

Someday, I’ll get out of here, and I’ll take Al with me. Until then, I just have to stay focused.

No distractions.

[deathsshadow]

I gasped and forced my eyes open, taking in the sun shining through the half-blinded windows, the lights throwing shadows off the dozens of boxes littering my room. Groaning I rubbed my forehead, clearing sleep and the dark mat of hair out of my eyes before wrestling the tangled mess of blankets from my body and made my way to the adjoining bathroom.

The sudden shock of cold water woke me up and brought me fully back to reality. I stared at the mirror for a few minutes, just talking in my pale complexion. My black hair still fell across my forehead and I had to move it back to look at my face, at my eyes. My whole life I’d been told I looked like my father and they were right, except for my eyes. They were my mother’s, one of the many strange things I had inherited from her.

One of my eyes was a bright crystal blue while the other was what she used to call ‘ghost grey’, a blue that was so pale it was almost translucent. For most of my childhood she forced me to wear contacts, “to avoid suspicion” she always said, but I never knew why. Right now the lenses rested in their case on the sink, never used. Once I turned fifteen I figured I was old enough to just not care what people think of me.

Also on the sink were my variations of meds: pills for depression and to help with sleep and some sort of experimental thing that was supposed to help with ‘hallucinations’. I huffed at the thought but reached for the cartons anyway, taking a few of each and gulping them down with a mouthful of water even though I knew they wouldn’t help. Sighing I twisted the caps back on before just tossing them into the bin, I’d tell dad I lost them during the move and we might even find a stronger type later, besides this prescription was about to run out anyway.

Throwing on the only clean clothes I had that weren’t already packed I made my way downstairs. Dad was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hand and a coffee cup in front of him. The kitchen like my room was full of boxes.

“Morning Sal,” dad said not even glancing up from the paper, his hand instinctively reaching for the coffee in front of him.

“Morning,” I replied, taking the opposite seat at the small wooden table, eyeing the cup hopefully, “can I have some coffee?”

My father sipped his drink before regarding me, “did you take your medicine?”

“Yes,” I told him truthfully

“Then no,” he said simply finishing the drink, “you know what caffeine does to you while on your meds.”

I sighed and went to pour myself a bowl of cereal. Back at the table however my appetite left after one small bite so I just sat there and watched the flakes go soft in the milk. Finally dad finished the paper and folded it, placing it on the table beside him, only then did he actually look at me and took in my pale appearance.

sighing he leant forwards and laced his fingers together, “bad night?”

i shrugged, trying to act casually about it and stirred the spoon around my untouched breakfast, “just tired. all this packing.”

dad sighed again before smiling, reaching over to ruffle my hair, an action he hadn’t done since i was a child.

“it’ll be okay kid,” he promised, “once we head out we can start a new life. things will get better, you’ll see.”

after that he got up and made his way over to the sink, preparing to wash up the dishes. I waited a few minutes before finally caving in under my overwhelming feelings. Sighing i slouched back in my seat.

“I dreamt about mum last night,” I admitted, my voice cracking halfway through my sentence as an unwanted tear welled in the corner of my eye.

The clatter of plates caused me to glance up. Dad stood paralysed, hands in the sink, the dishes left forgotten. He had his back towards me but i could easily feel his emotions, the same feelings was currently running through me as well.

Finally after a few more fretful minutes he turned to glance back at my slumped form. He sighed and pulled the plug before running his wet, soap covered fingers through his hair and dried his hands on a tea-towel, then refilled his cup with fresh coffee.

“here,” he said, placing it down in front of me, “you look like you need it.”

i stared up at him with as much shock as i could force my tired face to show, “but… what about my meds?”

he shrugged, “well, they don’t seem to be working anyway, so…”

at this i practically grabbed hold of the mug and downed half the drink, ignoring the liquid as it burned my throat. as soon as it hit my stomach however a sudden flash blinded my vision, scenes from my past and even worse things flashing by in fast precision, a ringing buzz filling my head. Gasping out in pain i pressed my shaking hands against my temples as the buzzing became horrid screams. suddenly my stomach lurched and i rushed to the slowly draining sink, emptying both the caffeine and useless tablets out of my system. that was when i reminded myself that i just hated coffee.

bringing myself back i wiped my mouth clear with a hand, feeling the sweat trickle down my neck. i could hear dad sighing in the background.

“maybe next time,” he said as i turned to face him. slowly he cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly under my accusing gaze before adding, “speaking of which, shouldn’t you go say goodbye to Toby? it’ll be a while till you get to see him again.”

His question forced me back to the current situation. Sighing i lowered my head and, nodding sadly, made my way to the backdoor. this was one of the things i was dreading, having to say goodbye to a good friend. one of my only friends...

...

He spotted me the moment i exited the door. Giving a happy bark the large black hound bounded forwards, only to be pulled back by the heavy chain holding him down. Whimpering he sat back and scratched irritably at the shabby red collar.

Smiling sadly at his pathetic expression i closed the door, making my way over to unclip him. The moment he was untied he gave a loud yelp of excitement and bowled me over, forcing me down easily. I gave a genuine laugh and pushed him back just enough to sit up, scratching him behind the ears. He whined happily and tilted his head back against my palm, staring at me with his mix-matched eyes.

I had Toby ever since i was a kid, my auntie got him for me for my twelfth birthday. None of us knew what breed he was, some kind of cross-mix by the look of him. He was large and dark, with thick fur, pointed ears and a long bony tail. But the main reason my aunt got him for me was because of his eyes, they were just like mine, blue and grey. shiny and bright.

“Hey bud, it’s good to see you too,” i laughed as he licked my hand and then my cheek.

Smiling i pushed him back again so i could wipe my face clear. As the minutes drifted by my expression started to slip. Giving a small sigh i placed a hand against the dog’s head. He whimpered instantly at the touch, probably picking up on my emotions.

“Listen bud,” i muttered, placing both hands along his long head, forcing us to make eye-contact, “I’m going to go away for a while and i... won’t be able to bring you with me...”

He gave another sad whimper like he understood what i was saying and once again i could feel tears welling in my good eye. Wiping them quickly away i wrapped both arms around him, pulling him close for a hug.

“... I’m going to miss you...”

“— don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.”

Sniffing I glanced up, shocked but not entirely surprised by the sudden voice.

She was standing in the shadow of the house, leaning confidently against the wall, which was probably why i hadn’t noticed her sooner. She was wearing ripped, faded blue jeans covered entirely in brightly coloured paint and marker stains, a long purple t-shirt and a short black coat. Her spiky black hair was cut short and styled in a way that i could only describe as punk-ish. She had a wide smile on her face.

Smiling back at her i wiped my eyes clear.

“Thanks Ace,” i muttered quietly.

Her smile widened at my response.

My cousin, who’s actual name is Ashley White, was exactly what I should have been, what i wished i had been, having inherited the Prince’s family genetics. Although both our hair was raven, a black so dark and shiny in was almost blue, she had been lucky enough to also inherit those bright emerald eyes, and the normality of sight that came with it.

Although i was admittedly a little jealous of this i never actually resented her, in-fact it was the exact opposite. I loved her. She was the best cousin i could have ever hoped for. Even if she was a little annoying at times...

Stepping out of the shadows she crossed her arms and studied me, tilting her head to the side.

“You look terrible,” she shot out, her words dripping with sarcasm

“...very funny...” i muttered, stroking my pet’s head.

She smiled before dropping the act, becoming the true caring and loving girl i knew. Making her way over she knelt down beside me.

“I’m serious,” she said, actually sounding like it, tucking her hands under her knees, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few minutes for me to say anything, but I’ve never lied to her and holding something back, keeping silent when i was hurting, too me at least was the same as lying. i sighed and gave in.

“I had the dream again,” i admitted, staring blankly off into nothing.

Ace’s eyes widened and her face went pale, but she shifted closer as if i had just informed her on some sort of secret, like a child finding out about a hidden birthday present.

“Was it there?” She asked, “i mean, like... did you see it?”

I nodded, absently running my fingers through the dog’s thick, black fur, “i did. Clearer than ever...”

Climbing to her feet she grabbed hold of my hand, “come on, let’s go to my room. Then you can tell me in detail.”

Nodding i followed her up, re-clipping the ratted old collar back on and saying a hurried, and final, goodbye to Toby.

...

The door to Ace’s room was always kept closed for her privacy and no one was allowed in without her permission, whether she was in the room or not. A plaque on the door read: ASHLEY WHITE’S ROOM DO NOT ENTER, but someone (Ace) had gone over it with red paint and had written: ACE’S.

I snickered a little at the sight, remembering how that whole scenario came about. That name had come around when we were kids, playing our own make-believe version of cards seeing as we were too young to have learned the original rules. She was always trying to hide things, but her smile always gave her away. When i called her out on it she snickered in a way she thought was evil and threw down her hand-made card.

“Bam, ace of fours. I win!”

I snorted at her failed scheme and scolded her, saying that an ace of four wasn’t even a real card. She pulled a face and muttered: “what-ever...” and ever since then it had become a sort of nick-name.

Slowly i brought myself back to the present as Ace pushed her door open. Flicking on the light she nodded for me to enter...

Entering her room was like entering an art studio, it was wrong to even think about calling it a bedroom. From floor to ceiling, even littered along the floor, were hundreds if not thousands of paintings, sketches, drawings, you name it. If someone was to mention something about one of her drawings she’d only scoff and say that it wasn’t even her best work, but i knew better. She had basic sketches that looked as if they could have been taken from an art museum. Even her worst was better than anything i ever drew.

Ace motioned me over to her bed and I obediently sat, curling my feet up silently. Making her way over to her overflowing desk she slipped out a large folio and a broken stick of charcoal. Slowly she flipped through the pages, looking for a clean slate. Each page she passed—much like the rest of her room— pictured a dark illustration of my nightmare. The black, horned shadow appearing to creep closer the more pages she turned.

Finally she found a blank page. Picking up her chunk of charcoal and a plain red pencil she asked me to recite my dreams to her. Tucking my knees up under my chin i obeyed, allowing the faint sounds of drawing to put me under a sort of trance.

The minuets blurred together as i spoke, eyes shut tight as the memories flooded through my mind. Then came the loud, sudden snap of the charcoal that forced me out of my nightmare back to the present, the creature’s glowing red eyes still burning through my retinas.

I sat there, curled up and shivering as Ace blew away the excess charcoal dust, brushing at the page almost lovingly to made sure it didn’t smudge. not once did she turn back to look at me. I didn’t mind, I actually appreciated the few minutes free time, giving me the chance to wipe the invisible tears and calm myself from the relived fright.

Finally she raised the page up to admire her art, the evil stare of the beast glowing right off the page, the blood red gaze so lifelike it was like it was staring right at me. I shuddered at the thought and turned away, re-closing my eyes. Unfortunately Ace took notice of my movement and turned to face me with a look that almost resembled guilt. She placed the page back down and made like she was going to say something when she was interrupted by the sudden, almost reassuring voice of her mother calling out to us.

“Salazar? Ashley? Are you there? The moving van’s here. Let’s go!”

We both let out a breath at the same time. I had no idea what Ace was sighing about, but i was sighing out of relief at not having to keep that image in my head any longer. Putting on a smile she slipped her drawing into a drawer and got up to walk over to me. Giving a small nod i joined her and together we left her room.

[lady-divine-writes]

Concerning the End of the World ... Again ...

Summary: When Crowley shows up for his picnic with Aziraphale in serpent form and refuses to change into human, Aziraphale fears the worst. (1837 words)

Warnings: Some mild angst and anxiety, but mostly fluff :D

(AO3)

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering when you were planning to show,” Aziraphale says, greeting the long black serpent slithering onto his picnic blanket like it’s an old friend.

Namely, because it is.

His oldest and dearest friend.

And, as of recently, his husband.

“Where have you been? I was getting worried.” Aziraphale side-eyes the serpent, waiting for it to stealthily change into human form. But it doesn’t, winding carefully through the jars of jam and honey, the plates of bread and cheese he’d set out. “Uh … is there a reason you’ve chosen not to transform?” He waits for the snake to give him a sign of acknowledgement. When it doesn’t, Aziraphale chalks it up to his husband’s temperamental nature (he is a demon, after all), and continues the conversation alone. “Well, if you don’t, you’re going to miss out! I’ve gotten a few pears from a local vendor, apples, some fresh strawberries ... I took the liberty of sampling a few, and they’re all scrumptious!”

The serpent pauses momentarily, tilting its head as if struggling with a decision. Whatever the options, it chooses to tuck itself beneath Aziraphale’s knee. From beneath the shelter of the angel’s leg, it pokes its head out, tongue flicking to taste the air. A sensation of dread creeps into Aziraphale’s chest, latches on with hooks, and stays there.

“Wh-what … what’s going on, Crowley? What’s the matter?” He looks about, stretching his own mental feelers, searching for anything not quite right in the area. Of course, if someone was going to detect something not quite right, it would be Crowley, his serpent form the best way to keep tabs on it.

Months ago, they’d both been able to convince their ‘powers that be’ to leave them alone, but how long would that last? Aziraphale naively hoped forever, but Crowley is a cynic. If his assumptions are correct, their brief time of peace was a stop-gap - a calm before a storm of epic proportions.

Greater than Satan himself clawing out of the ground? Apparently.

“H-have you heard anything from … you know …?” Aziraphale subtly points down, but the serpent, eyes locked on a point in the distance, neither confirms nor denies. Aziraphale watches, breath held, overly wary of its cautious behavior. He finds himself suddenly dubious of everyone – the ice cream seller, an older married couple, a little girl riding her trike, a corgi rummaging through the bushes for a ball. It may seem ridiculous, but if the events of the Notpocalypse have taught him anything, it’s that their enemies could be hiding anywhere, could be anyone. “If you have, you’re right to remain hidden. Best to stay under the radar, as they say.”

Aziraphale is uncertain which would be less conspicuous – a distinguished man dressed as stylishly as he sharing an intimate picnic lunch with a man who looks like a rock star, or this right big snake?

Either way, it doesn’t matter to him. As long as they’re together.

Truth be told, Aziraphale is quite fond of Crowley’s serpent form.

Maybe he could try his hand at shapeshifting next time. But what would he become? A dove? Mmm, no. Aziraphale loved doves, but that seemed a bit too on the nose. A cat? A sleek, dignified, yet fluffy Persian? Or a Siamese – all cream coat and stunning blue eyes? Ooo, a Russian blue!

But he’s not sure Crowley fancies cats. Would he want one following him about, or perched on his shoulder, shedding fur onto his clothes?

Probably not.

A dog? Yes, Crowley might prefer a dog. A big, strong, strapping dog - something along the lines of a hellhound, Aziraphale assumes, but he can’t picture himself that way. Not as a menacing beast with glowing red eyes and sharp teeth. But he’s sure he can get Crowley to compromise. Maybe he could be a feisty little Scottish terrier in a smart tartan coat, as long as he also agrees to wear something more Crowley-esque – like a spiky, leather collar. That would surely suit the both of them.

It was actually rather exciting now that he’d given it proper thought.

“I haven’t heard anything either,” Aziraphale affirms, though whether Crowley said he had or not, he doesn’t know. Aziraphale can’t speak to Crowley in his snake form. He can’t speak to snakes at all. Or any animal. Though he did feel a spiritual connection to an owl once back in the 16th century. Rupert, he called it. Regardless, he believes that what he and Crowley have is deeper – a connection that allows him to infer what his other half is thinking, even when those thoughts are wrapped inside the labyrinthine mind of a serpent.

“Honeymoon’s over, I guess, hmm?” Aziraphale says with a forlorn sigh, gazing at the world around him – the world he loves – with bittersweet affection. “I know you’ve had suspicions about a battle to come, I just … I didn’t think it would happen so soon. I thought we’d have more time.” He runs a hand gingerly down the neck of the snake, chuckling to himself. “Listen to me. More time. We’ve known one another for six thousand years! If the end is coming, I guess I should be grateful for the time we’ve had.” The snake rests its head on his thigh and seems to sigh as well – not in defeat, but more like sympathy. Knowing Crowley, he already has plans – escape to the stars, other planets, alternate dimensions. Crowley will know a way out of this. He’ll know what to do. And they’ll be fine, provided things work according to plan. But what about the world? Aziraphale wants to spend forever with Crowley, but something has never sat quite right with him about abandoning this world to do it. “We’ve been walking the middle ground for so long, Crowley. And I will admit, even if I didn’t show it, I always feared one day it would end. I don’t want that day to be now. Not now. Not yet.” He bends as best he can in an awkward position to lean close to the serpent, and the serpent rises to meet him. Aziraphale cups it under what he assumes is its ‘chin’ and rubs it’s snout with his nose. It’s scaly and cold, nothing like the warmth of his husband’s skin, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “But whatever happens, we’re in this together. You and I, till the day we …” The rest gathers at the back of the angel’s throat, huddled in a lump, refusing to come out “… well, you know. But I want you to know, I’m not leaving you without a fight. Not ever. Because … well, because I love you, Crowley. I do. I should have said it a million times – the very moment I knew. But I’m saying it now, every day, as a matter of fact. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love …”

“Aziraphale? What on Earth are you doing?”

Aziraphale stops talking. His eyes go wide. He stares questioningly at the snake in front of him. If he didn’t know better, he would swear it shrugs.

“Crowley?” He sits up, hand still cupping the serpent’s chin, and sees his husband – human form Crowley – standing before him. His jaw drops, the apples of his cheeks glowing a jasper red, brighter than twin stoplights, especially since the rest of his color has drained clear away. “Wha---?” Aziraphale looks at the black snake sitting beside him on the blanket, the one he’s been talking to for the past half hour, then back up at Crowley, who’s taken on a rather defensive stance – arms crossed, hip cocked, glaring behind his dark glasses at his angel’s offending hand. Aziraphale pulls his hand away and swallows hard.

“Th-this isn’t what it looks like.”

***

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,  That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

“Ah, Shakespeare …” Aziraphale hugs the leather-bound book to his chest, gazing down the length of the sofa he’s on to the serpent lying by his socked feet, coiled against the cold. “In thousands of years, I’ve never had the pleasure of reading works by anyone who could do poetry such justice. Don’t you agree?”

The serpent raises its head, gives a little nod, then rests it on the angel’s ankle, exhaling in contentment.

“Hmm, I do agree. I do agree. So where were we? Ah …”

“Are you reading him sonnets?” Crowley snaps when he walks in and catches his husband curled up on the couch beside the creature he has affectionately begun calling his son.

“He listens,” Aziraphale replies, going back to the book and turning the page, “unlike some people.”

“You forget, I was there the first go round.” Crowley grabs a glass and a full bottle of wine from the desk nearby. “Wasn’t too impressed then, either. Why are you letting him stay here anyway?”

“He followed me home, Crowley! I can’t just put him out! That would be cruel! Besides, I don’t understand why you’re so upset! It’s not like I …” Aziraphale cuts himself short and looks up from his book. “Wait a minute …” A small smile dances at the corners of his mouth, not easily noticed by one unaccustomed to being teased by an angel. But Crowley’s seen it a thousand times “… you’re not still upset about …?”

“Yes! Yes, I am!” Crowley miracles the cork from the wine and drinks straight from the bottle, bypassing the glass clutched in his other hand. “I find it offensive that you can’t tell a common black snake from your own husband!”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but at first glance, you two do look strikingly similar.”

“Oi! Oi!” Crowley points at his angel, stuck for a comeback strong enough to express his displeasure.

“Also, it’s a large, black snake, Crowley! Those aren’t all that common in these parts! How was I supposed to know it wasn’t you? Do you know the odds? Really …”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you were getting all lovey-dovey with …!”

“… something that I thought was you!” Aziraphale closes his eyes in frustration and shakes his head. “But don’t worry,” he says, waving away his husband’s ire with a flick of his hand. “I promise not to fall into the same trouble I got into with the last snake that followed me home.”

“Is that so?” Crowley grumps, searching under the sofa and around the stacks of books for the offending bugger. “You have a whole harem of snakes hanging around here, do you?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“Ah. So tell me, Aziraphale - what happened to him, eh?”

The angel and the serpent, thick as thieves at this point, look at a put-off Crowley, wearing matching smug smirks. “I married him.”

*** Notes: This was a sort of a culmination of different ideas I got from fanart on Tumblr. There's a consensus (I think) that when Crowley shows up in his snake form, Aziraphale automatically knows it's him. So I thought ... what if it doesn't work that way? XD

[saintheartwing]

Invader Zim: The Pod People Invasion

"So…tell me again WHY my poor son is here?"

Professor Membrane was rather astounded that his son had been unceremoniously tossed into a straight jacket, gagged, and put in the school counselor's room. The black, scythe-haired scientist looked furious, despite nobody being able to see his eyes behind those large goggles he wore, and the fact his big white labcoat covered up his lower mouth. But his black-gloved fingers were clenching tightly onto his arm, his body practically vibrating with fury and rage as he glowered at the police who were in the whitish/grey room with him, the office of the school counselor, Mr. Thildari. The blind man had a soft face and white eyes, wearing glasses over those milky orbs as he wore a white button up shirt and white pants, and had a necklace with a lovely green orb-like gem at the end of it as he tilted his head to the side, the almost androgynous-looking man intrigued by what Professor Membrane had to say.

His son, Dib Membrane, was sitting in a chair nearby, in a straight-jacket and Mr. Thildari nodded at the police as they undid the straight-jacket. "I think it's unnecessary since his father's here at last. We apologize for the dreadful inconvenience." Mr. Thildari's soft yet dark voice remarked, his tone having almost a faint echoing undercurrent to it. "Please accept the school's humble apologies. Would you, perhaps, like to buy some chocolate? The school's having a promotion!"

He reached into his desk and pulled out big jars of chocolate-covered nuts. "How about it?" He inquired of Dib as they got him out of the straight-jacket and removed the ball gag and he dusted himself off. "You maybe got some…mad money to spend?"

"HA. HA. HA." Dib snorted as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose a bit and frowned, amber/golden eyes glowering at the school counselor, then at the cops. "This sucks, Dad. I got practically violated by these jerks!"

"Well you were ranting and raving about the end of the world in the middle of the school cafeteria for a good four minutes until we finally tased you." The first cop remarked.

"Because it's really happening!" Dib said. "Look, maybe I should just start from the beginning…" He sighed, pinching the space between his eyes and shaking his head back and forth. "It all started simply enough…" He murmured. "I'd forgotten my wallet yesterday on Sunday, and I had to race back into town. See, there was this really cool convention just the next town over, so I had to take a bus there only to realize…WOOPS. Forgot my wallet with my tickets in it. And the worst part was that because I only had enough change for the bus fare once, I had to walk back. And by the time I got back, that's when I realized something was really, really wrong with the town. I mean, everything seemed okay at first but…"

"You gotta help me!"

Torque Smacky had grabbed hold of Dibbun Membrane and was shaking the black-jacket-wearing, blue-undershirt-having young 12 year old about, looking mortified. The frazzled, spiky hair of Torque was even more messy, his big, ugly face looking horrified as he looked into Dib's eyes, his dad, lantern jaw and all, walking towards him.

"What the heck's wrong with you?" Dib asked. "I'm not doing your homework for you-"

"It's my dad, dude, he's not actually my dad! He's not!"

Dib stared at him. "…what?"

"He can't be! He hasn't spanked or smacked me once today!" Torque Smacky insisted.

"Oh, relaaaax, I'm sure your Dad will start smacking you around again soon enough." Dib remarked snidely. "Geez, Torque, you're angry that your family isn't hitting you? I call that finding a unicorn, do you know how many times Gaz hit me over the head during her "blue period"?"

"Thank you, sir." Torque's father said, taking hold of his son by the collar. "Come on, son, you must be…tired." He insisted, bringing him towards the screen door to his home nearby as Torque uselessly squirmed around, trying to break free.

"No, no, no! Please, believe me! Believe meeeeeee!" Torque cried out as he vanished into the house.

"Looking back, I…I can't believe how stupid I was not to see what was happening. I guess I was also in a bad mood, because I was missing the convention. AND I was starving too. So I went to get my wallet from my house. It was quiet, real quiet. Nobody seemed to be there, and there wasn't any food in the cupboard left over. So I decided "Okay, I'll get some snacks from the gas station, then head out and catch the last half of my convention". But then I met GIR, Zim's little robot friend, all disguised as a dog, and he'd finished up a Suckmunkey. He was sitting on the stoop and looking really depressed, and Zim was eating a candy bar…"

Indeed, the Irken alien invader, Zim, had distinctly green skin, no ears, no nose, ruby/maroon eyes hidden behind obvious contact lenses, and his black insectoid antenna was hidden by a black wig. He was still obviously wearing black gloves and boots and a maroon "invader's attire" that was a big ol shirt with long sleeves, dark grey pants, and he had clawed hands for God's sakes! And yet…hardly anyone seemed to realize he was an alien.

But even he seemed down.

"You guys look…really depressed."

"NONE of the filthy huuuuuman children will listen to me going into detail about my glorious new plans!" Zim remarked. "The whole town is��quiet! Lethargic! Slothful! Nobody cares about what Zim has to say!"

Dib sniggered as GIR sighed as well, the little green doggy suit he wore having its head a-drooping. "None of my friends'll play with me." He murmured. "Nobody wants to pet me. NOBODY LOVES MEEEEE!"

"Uh…gee, little alien robot, sorry…" Dib mumbled. Something was rather odd, he was beginning to pick up on that. But he'd learn the truth soon enough, because as he walked towards the bus station after getting some nachoes and a soda to sate himself, he saw, of all people, SKOODGE racing out of Zim's house, grabbing Dib!

"You gotta help me, Mr. Dib! PLEASE! Nobody else will listen to me!"

"Okay, alright, alright." Dib groaned, rolling his eyes as Skoodge led him to the backyard, past the guard-an-gnomes that Zim had, following the very tubby and rotund alien invader. Skoodge was dressed up in a better disguise, he had a holographic display that gave him a freckled face, orangish hair and the like…but he hadn't taken his Invader's garb off. Ah well. Skoodge was more agreeable, civil and just plain nicer than Zim. If he wasn't an alien invader, Dib would have probably gone along great with him-

"HOLY CRAP!"

Dib gazed down at what laid in the backyard, a gigantic pod, big, green, faintly pulsating and with Skoodge's head upon it!

"Wh-what is this?!" Dib asked. "It's an amazing likeness of you!"

"Yeah, I found it in the backyard along with this other pod that's just…lying here." Skoodge said, jabbing a thumb at another nearby pod. "No clue who it's for. It's not one of Zim's ideas, believe me…he'd be talking about it all morning if it was."

"I think I know what it is…" Dib realized, his eyes going wide. "Skoodge, this is a space pod! Part of a diabolical alien invasion force from deep space to replace all humanity as we sleep! There's only one thing to do!"

"Uh…call the cops? The FBI? The CIA? NASA? 60 Minutes, maybe?" Skoodge asked. "Or, I dunno, go to every house and set fire to all the backyards?"

"No! We'll look for a pod person and make them explain everything in a convoluted bit of expositionary dialogue!" Dib proclaimed, pointing upwards dramatically as Skoodge stared at him, scratching his head.

"Um…Dib, I don't think they're going to do that." He remarked.

"Skoodge, c'mon, if there's one thing aliens LOVE, it's bragging and talking about how amazing their plans for taking over worlds are." Dib told him, folding his arms over his chest as Skoodge opened his mouth to protest…then tilted his head to the side and nodded a bit, wagging his hand in the air in a kind of "Yeah, okay" sort of gesture.

So off we went. We asked people left and right if they were pod people. We didn't always get the answers we wanted. Didn't have a lot of good luck!

"Excuse me, are you a pod person?"

"A WHAT?!" Iggins asked. "What's THAT supposed to mean?! POD PERSON!? I'll have you know I'm proudly gay and there's nothing wrong with that! Pod person. POD PERSON…"

"Dude, you're being creepier than usual!" Zita proclaimed, glowering at the two. "I have mace. I am not afraid to use it."

"No, I'm black." Said the Letter M, the tight-crop black hair of the kid almost standing up on end in irritation as he frowned.

"Say, why are you called The Letter M anyway?"

"Well, it beats what my sister got named. The Letter F." M remarked with a sigh.

"…wait. You mean…" Dib trailed off. "…do your parents, by chance, work as scientists like MY dad?"

"Yes, and they changed their names when they got married and are now the Mr and Ms Sir and Madam no more, now they're the proud Mr. Husband and Mrs. Wife. They even named our dog the letter C. I wanted a cat. But they said it would make calling for their daughter too complicated."

"I am so, so sorry." Dib said apologetically. "I can't think of any worse name than being called the shorthand for Male."

"When I have a son, I'm going to name him SUE." Letter M insisted angrily. "Then I'll scatter my parents ashes over the toilet, and will scatter something else over that." He growled.

We learned a lot more about the people of this town than I think I wanted to...but not much about pod people. Finally, though, our persistence paid off.

"Why yes. Yes, I AM a pod person." Sara said cheerily, the faintly nun-dressed young girl sitting on a park bench and giving them a rather…unsettlingly fake smile. "And I'd be delighted to tell all of you about our people's invasion plans before I go alert my co-conspirators to your presence. You see, our space pods land on a planet, replacing all its people with emotionless replicas as they sleep. Then we grow more pods, spreading sterility and tranquility throughout the cosmos!"

"Really?" Dib remarked. "That's it? Kinda…simple."

"Well, yes! It's our first time doing this, so we're keeping the plan simple. Still, to be fair and further spread our mission, we also invented tofu, created EuroDisney, and Ben Stein. Oh, and Lily Collins. She's been one of us for years." Sara added.

"How about Tommy Wiseau from "The Room"?"

"Oh, no, no, no." Sara shook her head. "He's too weird for us. That's on you people. We're not going near him with a fifty foot pole. We may be emotionless, calm, collected alien invaders, but even we get weirded out by that guy."

"So you wanna get rid of all our emotions?! That's horrible! That sounds like you wanna turn the world into a bad Lifetime Channel movie or some kind of old home video you'd show kids in Sunday School!"

"I dunno, I think it's pretty nice being a pod."

"AAAAA!"

Dib gaped in horror at Skoodge, who now looked…off. His eyes were kind of distant. His face looking like it was miles away! And the pod he'd been carrying with them for proof…EMPTY!

"How the heck?!" Dib cried out.

"Yeah, turns out me carrying it around wasn't such a nice idea. Or at least, that's what I thought about…ten seconds ago. But now I "feel" fine. You should try it." Skoodge said as he took hold of Dib along with Sara, dragging Dib into a nearby convenience store, people standing listlessly about as the man behind the counter stared ahead.

"So. What would you like? We have water…water…and, ah, more water."

"I'd like a tepid water."

"Yes, tepid, please."

"Tepid would be very nice."

"Oh, and I must remind you all, we are having "Unemotional Hour" tonight from 10-11 at the bar across the street. Is that not just lovely?" The convenience store owner intoned in a deadpan voice as the others nodded in agreement.

"Here, to ease your transition in, human." Said Skoodge as he handed Dib something from a large pile of objects to the side as the other pod people nodded some more. "Your own space pod and introduction membership kit! All you need for a nice, simple, assimilation into never having problems ever again. Oh, and we also have this very lovely foam finger." He added with a nod as Dib looked over the "Pods #1" foam finger he'd been given. "We got the idea from a very lovely little dog."

"Uh, look, um….I kinda want my emotions." Dib insisted. "They're good for, y'know…improving the world. Caring about people? Protecting it from…well, alien invasions!?"

"Don't be silly, Dib. Emotions lead only to bad things. Like competition, jealousy, and hallmark cards. We're doing your world a favor!" Sara remarked. "You'll never have any worries or cares ever again. Become one of us just like Mark Zuckerburg did. He's far better off now."

"Mark Zuckerberg's one of you? Really?"

"Yeah,it took ages to be sure he was, even before our pod, the man was as soulless as a piece of toast!"

"So…I won't care about…say…my favorite TV show, Mysterious Mysteries?" Dib inquired.

"Nope. Not a bit."

"…what about…hunting down Zim?"

"He won't be caring about anything anymore, why should you?"

"…my family?" Dib asked.

"No, you won't care about them either. You won't even care that you don't care!"

"…BUH-BYE!" Dib said, kicking Skoodge in the foot. BOINK! He flopped over, Sara gaping as Dib took off running.

"Hey, stop him!"

"You stop him. I don't care if he escapes." Skoodge remarked as he laid on the floor.

"Yeah, doesn't bother me any." Said the convenience store owner as other pod people nodded along.

"But if we don't stop him he'll ruin all our plans!" Sara remarked.

"…oh, well that's different." Skoodge said, chasing after him with the others as they barrled out of the street after Dib, who tore down the sidewalk. "Please stop running. You have forgotten your pod."

"Ask me if I care!" Dib called back.

"You know, if I had any emotional capacity I would be very cross with you right now." Sara added as they jogged after Dib, who glared back at them slightly before diving into an alleyway, scrambling over a chain link fence. He bolted as fast as he could, barreling down the road, into his house, slamming the door shut, Zim sitting on the couch and shaking his head back and forth.

"I really don't get why you like this show." He told GIR and Gaz as they sat down on the couch next to him. "Oh, Dib-Stink. Yes, I'm in your house, GIR stupidly insisted we come over here to check on "Gazzy-Wazzy". They evidently were doing something upstairs for a long time and now they want me to watch the…what is it? Calm Monkey Show?"

"Calm Monkey!?" Dib stared at the screen, mouth agape as Gaz and GIR kept watching, staring ahead blankly.

"…hello." Said the brown-furred, slightly yellow-eyed monkey on the screen. "…what a nice day. Isn't it a fine day. Isn't it fine that we're feeling fine?"

"Yes. Yes, it's fine to feel fine, isn't it?" GIR asked Gaz.

"Oh, yes. We're both feeling fine. You know, I think the paint's drying on the back of the wall behind that monkey." Gaz added, the purple-haired Goth girl…not even having her eyebrows down so much over her eyes she looked like she was perpetually frowning. She had her eyes wide open and she…she wasn't even wearing her skull necklace!

"This is not a good show." Zim muttered.

"Maybe you'll like…say…some nice, relaxing music." Gaz said, changing the channel to a music station as Dib frowned, then yawned.

"UGH. Post Malone's "Psycho"?! This song is so dull, he's supposed to be talking about going insane but he sounds like he's on Quaaludes!"

"We could always switch to a nice C-SPAN discussion if you'd prefer, they're talking about bumper crops." GIR remarked.

"…oh no. OH NO. I know what you're trying to do. You want me to fall asleep so you can replace us with pods!" Dib gasped. "No way!" He proclaimed. "Zim, we have to get out of here now. GIR and my sister have evidently been replaced by pod people from outer space and if we don't leave, they'll put us to sleep and replace us too!"

"Oh, c'mon." Zim said with a snort. "I mean, just because Gaz and GIR are acting much more calm and rational and polite and courteous and civil doesn't…doesn't…"

BAM!

Zim and Dib barreled out the front door, Zim's disguise falling off his face as he howled in terror. "YOU WILL NEVER, EVER TELL ANYONE I ADMITTED YOU WERE RIGHT, DIB!"

"SHUT UP AND RUN, LOCUST!"

"You can't hide from us!" GIR cried out as he walked after them, smiling stupidly along with Gaz.

"Yes. Today, Philadelphia, tomorrow…a whole bunch of other places!"

"We have to find a place to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere!" Dib proclaimed as they barreled past people in the street, racing out of the city as fast as they could, off to the outskirts as the sky began to get darker, Zim wiping his brow. "C'mon, Zim, pick up the pace!"

"S-Sorry! I'm…I'm not used to…running around so much!" He moaned. "Zim's PAK legs usually do this for him but I had to put it on "DEBUG" for the day, nothing's working but the life support." He commented.

"You are soooo out of shape." Dib intoned as they reached the old mine, climbing inside, panting heavily, Dib wiping his brow as Zim flopped against the stony wall within, the soft echoing of a stalactite dripping water down into a cave pool not far away. DRIP…DRIP…DRIP.

"OOOF…" Zim moaned. "I wish I'd eaten more than a candy bar. I'm starving."

"I'm going to check to see if the coast is clear. Lemme look outside the back entrance." Dib told Zim, heading down the mine, going to the south entrance, using his smartphone's flashlight to light the way as he wiped his brow on his jacket arm. "Hoo…I'm getting tired too. Okay, once I know we're safe, we can take a little nap and then I'll gather my thoughts and think up a plan." He mused to himself as he finally reached the southern entrance to the mine about half an hour later. He peered out as the stars began to twinkle overhead, a soft wind blowing through his hair as he clung to the wall of the mine, peering out.

No sign of anyone or anything, save for a natural pathway leading out to the highway. Dib grinned, then headed back the way he'd come, calling out. "Zim! Zim, the coast is clear, let's get-OH NO!"

There, by Zim's side…was a pod!

"Yeah, uh, funny story. They had some spares here in the mine. Anyway, Zim is a pod now. It's pretty awesome." Zim intoned. "I think you should be a pod too." He added, holding up another pod. "One of us! C'mon."

"AAAACK!" Dib barreled back to the southern entrance, racing off as Zim called out, the pod people coming in through the north entrance.

"He's over here, this way! Human over here!"

Dib barreled down the highway, racing off for the school, looping to the west as he slid his way inside through a window. His chest felt like it was on fire as he made his way into a closet, panting heavily, wiping his brow and looking around. No pods anywhere. NOWHERE. Phew. He quickly began to move things around, barricading the door and finally, at long last, sitting down to rest and-

"Hey. This is my closet." Said an irritated-looking janitor with a bit of messy black hair atop his head and a dark look in his eyes, his body thin and emaciated as he poked his head out from behind a bucket. "I've got a busy day tomorrow of painting a wall red with blood to feed the demon that lies inside."

"Well I'm hiding from pod people who want to take away all our emotions!"

"…yeah, okay, fair enough. Just so you know? I snore." The janitor intoned, plopping back down behind the bucket.

And so, come the next morning as the kids were going into the cafeteria for a big announcement…that was when I barreled in, fully rested and probably still looking wild and crazed, waving my arms over my head as I got on top of a table, bouncing up and down, yelling loudly to all in the room about the oncoming alien invasion of pod people!

And about four minutes in, that's when the school's police guard came in to tase me.

…

…

…

… "So that's what happened." Dib explained.

"Only a moron could believe stuff like that!" said one of the cops as Mr. Thildari rubbed his chin.

"I'm very sorry, Dib. But without any kind of supporting evidence, well…the best you can do is let the media exploit you for a lucrative book and Netflix movie deal." The school counselor remarked just before Professor Membrane noticed something.

"Oh. One moment." He lifted open his chest, showing off a built-in smart TV, everyone looking on in awe as he cheerily chuckled. "We're getting a breaking news bulletin! I can always tell because I get a tingling in my colon."

"This just in! SPACE PODS HAVE INVADED EARTH!"

"And by the way!" a voice rang out as the rather homicidal-looking janitor brought in several big ol' green pods, tossing them into the room. "I found these in the damn bathrooms. How am I supposed to clean up all the blood if these pods are in the way!?"

"Oh, Dib! You a pod yet?" Zim inquired as he poked his head into the room with an unnatural smile as Gaz, GIR and Skoodge stood by him.

"HA! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! SEE?! SEEEE?!" Dib cried out. "You believe me now, you jaded authority figures, you?"

"I dunno…not really…" One of the cops remarked.

"Mmmm…gee, nah, I don't think so…" Another cop intoned.

"Actually, I do." Said Mr. Thildari as he smiled broadly…

And then, before their eyes, became an Irken with balled antennae dressed in a big white robe with a silver belt! He smiled cheerily at Dib, waving his clawed hands, white eyes blinking. "You see, we Irkens have actually been on Earth for many decades now. My own mother and originator, Almighty Tallest Miyuki, blessed be her name, came here aaaaages ago to do some experimentation with a VERY lovely black-haired young scientist who ended up charming her."

"Wait, WHAT?!" Professor Membrane's eyes bugged behind his goggles. "Though this explains a lot…" He confessed as Dib gaped in astonishment, the cops in the room, Zim, GIR, Gaz and Skoodge gasping in amazement. "She always felt very different down there whenever we-"

"BAH, we're not worried about you." One of the cops said as he took off his hat…then his head, revealing a distinctly green, scaly-skinned, tusk-having alien who was amazingly tall! "We Martians have been preparing too! We've been seeing all of your efforts for twenty decades and we're getting our hunting parties ready!"

"That'd be very impressive…" said another one of the cops before his skin melted off…showing off synthetic alloy beneath with soulless eyes as his arm opened up to reveal a carbine blaster that was revving up to fire. "But we robots have foreseen your attempt. I come from the future to end your reign before it begins! If need to, we will shoot you twice! We'll screw you over more than the new Terminator did to it's franchise!"

"Wait a minute, I thought we were only being invaded by pod people!" Dib remarked.

"You think that's what's going on? Not at all, man!" yelled Nick as the young man with the obvious head injury stuck his head into the room and walked inside, wearing…a kilt. They stared at him in shock as he sighed, folding his arms over his chest, the poor kid's brain exposed from horrifying experiments that Zim had done on him, the brain barely kept in by a kind of glassy little dome. "Giant blancmanges landed. They've turned half my class into Scotsmen so they can dominate the Olympic games this year because "everyone knows Scottish people are terrible at sports"! Bunch of prejudicial puddings!" He grumbled.

"You think that's bad?!" Ms. Bitters intoned as she crawled in from the window outside, panting heavily and wiping her brow, looking mortified, smoke slightly rising off her skeletal frame as the glasses-wearing old, white-haired crone cringed. "It's the apes you need to worry about. Apes have inherited the Earth!"

"Have we actually all died and gone to Hell? What's going on here?!" Dib groaned as he looked around the room, other people beginning to talk amongst themselves, the voices getting loud and panicked and terrified.

"No, no, it's all a twisted experiment!"

"It's the GOVERNMENT'S fault!"

"IT'S A COOKBOOK! IT'S A COOKBOOOOOK!"

"You stupid, STUPID morons!" A voice rang out as they all turned, suddenly seeing someone whom they never expected to see…Minimoose. The flying, purple little moose-like toy glowered at them all, speaking perfect English! "None of this is real! We're all just typed words on a page, stuck in a comedic horror story written by a New Englander! This is all just FANFICTION!"

Everyone stared at him…and then burst out laughing, hysterically cackling. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"WOOP! HA HA HA!"

"PFFFTTT!"

"HEE-HEE-HEE!"

"Oh, that's a good one. Fanfiction! Ha-ha-ha! That's the stupidest one yet!" Dib sniggered.

"Oh yeah?!" Minimoose glowered as his eyes narrowed. "Then how do you explain the fact that the next words out of your mouth are going to be "You're just being silly, Minimoose!"

"You're just being silly, Minimoose-" Zim began to say before he stopped, and everyone gazed at him, his expressionless face now looking terrified. "…wh…what?"

"And look! Look up THERE! See! The PAGE!" Minimoose proclaimed as he pointed up above, and everyone stared.

"Wh…what? H…How can I be up there when I'm speaking now?" Dib murmured fearfully as they all glanced around at each other.

"And there's MORE!" Minimoose proclaimed. "Haven't all of you felt it? That feeling you were being watched? Like the eyes of strange things are upon you?! Look! Reading this right now! YOU! Yes, YOU!"

"OH MY GOD!" Dib cried out as he saw you, the others gazing on in amazement and horror. "That…that means…"

"Then…then…" Professor Membrane murmured.

"AAAAAAAAAA!"

People were screaming, running left and right. The pod people howled in terror, folks were bolting out the door and the windows, and Dib, pale as a sheet, shook his head back and forth, looking up at you.

"Please, whatever you do! Don't stop reading! DON'T STOP READING THIS STORY! DON'T EXIT THE TAB! DON'T CLICK AWAY! DON'T! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 23

Read Ch. 22 | Masterlist

Okay I lied. I misremembered where I left off. The next 3 chapters are fillers in between what’s canon in the comics.

“He did what now?!”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” Ren groaned and hid her face in her arms.

With U.A. on a short break before the mandatory internships start, Ren, Tomoe and Seri finally found time to hang out in their secret hideout. It was the only place they could go without anyone hearing their conversation. Even though it was freezing cold outside, a small campfire was made to keep the three warm.

“Tomoe, it’s hunting time,” Seri darkly blurted out and took her talons out.

“No! No hunting!” Their pink-haired friend immediately jumped out of her seat, her hand held up to stop them.

“How about maiming?” Tomoe suggested with an evil grin.

“Do absolutely nothing that would cause him bodily harm!” she nervously instructed.

“You’re no fun,” her owl-faced friend pouted and retracted her claws.

“It’s not a matter of fun. Aizawa’ll kick my ass three ways to Sunday,” she solemnly pointed out.

The tawny brown haired girl grabbed a Pocky stick left over from the holiday party and clamped one between her teeth.

“So what’re you gonna do?” she asked and took a bite of the chocolate biscuit.

“Move out of the dorm and back to you guys?” Ren half-jokingly thought out loud.

“You’d trouble Todoroki-kun if you did,” Seri pointed out. “The real question is how do you feel about him?”

“I...” Ren sat back down on the log and crossed her arms over her chest, really thinking about it. “He… makes me calm.”

“Calm is good,” Tomoe noted.

“He’s also very observant and makes a lot of effort in trying to help the people around him, even though he doesn’t seem to be the type to trust easily.”

“Does he make you happy though?”

“As happy as I get.”

“That doesn’t help.” Seri rubbed her forehead, unable to fathom how one of her best friends could be so emotionally dense with all that intelligence. “Has he done anything for you lately that’s touched your heart?”

“He let me meet his mom at the hospital and took me to a dog cafe after he overheard me talking about Skye.”

Ren’s two friends made eye contact, one just as shocked as the other upon hearing that bit of information.

“Damn, the competition won’t last at this point,” Tomoe muttered out.

“Competition?” She turned to look at her tall, spiky friend. “What are you talking about?”

“She doesn’t know,” Seri noted with a smirk. “It’s actually cute.”

“Know what?” The pink haired girl was beginning to get agitated. “Who on this goddamn campus hit their head and decided to have doki-doki feels for me?”

“Should we say?” The hedgehog girl enquired loudly to her owl-friend.

“I’m not sure.”

“Hey!” Ren shouted with thinning patience. “I’m right here and don’t appreciate you two having a conversation without me!”

“Ren-Ren, look,” Seri started and took a breath. “There are a lot of people on this campus who have ‘doki-doki’ feelings for you,” she explained and used finger quotes on the descriptor. “You’re just oblivious to them.”

“Or maybe they’re too subtle,” Tomoe hypothesized. “Ever since the festival, you’ve gotten a lotta attention from other classes.”

Ren could only groan out loud again.

“I don’t care about them. I only care about what I’m gonna say to Todo-kun,” she blurted out and held her head in her hands. “I rather take on a villain and beat them to the ground with an inch of my life rather than deal with this.”

“We can give you as much advice as you want, but nothing will change unless you talk with him,” the white-haired girl reasoned. “Peel off the band-aid and put your hypothetical balls to the wall.”

Knowing her friends were right, they decided to put the fire out before teleporting back to the main campus. The three entered 1-A, only to see a stack of large boxes by the doorway.

“Oh senpai!” Iida greeted. “These packages came for you while you were out.”

“But I didn’t order any–Oh sweet baby All-Might, no.”

She buried her face into her palms, mumbling something inaudible while shaking her head slowly.

“It’s that time of year again.” Seri held a worrying hand to her cheek, sighing out loud and felt drained all of a sudden.

“What are you guys talking about?” Midoriya asked only to see two completely dejected upperclassmen like they had their souls sucked out.

“The shackles of the elite upper class,” Tomoe summarized and pointed to the aforementioned boxes with her thumb.

“But I’m not elite or upper class!” Ren jolted back up. “It’s my mom’s position that lets people believe otherwise!”

“What does your mom do, senpai?” Kirishima asked.

“She’s a translator at the embassy. Her quirk, Polyglot, let’s her understand and speak every language on this planet.”

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Uraraka boasted.

“But what does it have to do with the ‘shackles’ over there?” the green haired boy pointed to the stack of flat cardboard boxes.

“Every year, the embassy has a holiday party with powerful government people,” Tomoe explained. “And since they made it a family friendly event, spouses and kids are invited.”

“More like they just want to show us off as their trophies and brag about our accomplishments like it’s their own,” Seri venomously spat out with a glowering stare at the boxes. “They can kindly go kick rocks and fuck themselves.”

“I already told my mom I wasn’t going this year, but she insisted,” Ren huffed out angrily and rolled her eyes. “Because a ‘future hero should build up a good network.’ Those parties are always so boring and stuffy. I swear she just wants me to go half the time so she could play matchmaker to me. It’s just–”

She let out an audible shudder that vibrated throughout her entire body.

“And the dresses...” Ren continued with a look of sheer horror on her face and glanced over at the towering behemoth. “I just… I can’t...” she choked out, suddenly remembering all her past traumatic experiences with fitting sessions.

“Okay, the past few years may have been poor choices on her behalf–” Tomoe defended only to be cut off by Seri.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call a small piece of sparkly fabric held together by one thin string ‘poor choice’, Tomoe,” Seri flatly said.

“I had stripper dust on my back for weeks even with just trying it on,” she groaned at the memory and wished to push it back down into the depths of her subconscious. “I’m not looking forward to this.”

“Well, let’s open the boxes together and see,” Yaoyorozu suggested. “Perhaps they’re not so bad this time.”

Reluctant to agree, Iida and Midoriya helped gather the packages and laid them down on the floor in the common area. They opened it one by one and Ren physically felt blood push up her throat upon seeing the first dress. It was a fully sequined high collared ball gown in crimson red with matching high heel stilettos. There were ruffles where there weren’t supposed to be and sequins could be found on every inch of the bodice.

“So sparkly!” Uraraka gushed.

“Burn it,” Ren darkly growled. “Next.”

The next dress was a midnight blue in an A-line cut. The dress had a very deep v-neck line in the bodice area, only held together by a thin mesh material in-between and the back.

“Throw it into space. Next.”

“Your mom sure has… very outgoing taste,” Yaoyorozu slowly commented, choosing her words carefully.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘gaudy’, Yao-Momo.”

“Well, I don’t want to be impolite...”

“It’s as gaudy as they come,” the three upperclassmen simultaneously stated.

Opening up the next box, Uraraka pulled out a strapless sparkly pink ruched bodice dress with a leg slit that sat right below the hip bone. Even the gravity girl was blushing madly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she groaned in English.

Ren took her phone out from her pocket and dialed a number without even seeing the last two dresses. The line on the receiver picked up.

“Courier. Now. Or I burn them all,” she growled out in Japanese.

“But you haven’t even–”

“Courier. Or. Fire.” She repeated with emphasis on each word. “Your choice.”

“At least let me see you try them on,” the woman on the other line bargained. “It’ll make dear ol’ mom happy.”

“Y’know, just because you couldn’t wear them when you were my age–”

“Are you saying I’m projecting, dear daughter? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Ren’s shoulders froze in place, inwardly groaning.

Now she’s done it.

“Just...” She rubbed her temples in a circular motion with her thumb and squeezed her eyes shut. “Give me five minutes to set up the video call.”

She ended the call and slumped over the couch to muffle her screaming.

“She went dark on you?” Tomoe asked the obvious.

The flustered pink haired girl turned her head to the side for some air and flatly answered, “Almost.”

Dragging herself away from the couch, she asked Uraraka to help her with the dresses and went into the girls public bathroom.

“She’s not gonna flush them down the toilet, is she?!” Jiro exclaimed.

“The sequins would clog up the pipes.” Seri’s stoic commentary made her sound like this was something she knew from first-hand experience.

“Lange-senpai, what did you mean by ‘dark’ before?” Midoriya asked.

“You guys remember how Ren-Ren was when she beat Bakugou in the video game?” Tomoe reminded.

“Don’t bring shit up from the past,” the mentioned blond boy grumbled out and rested his face in his palm.

“Yeah… Imagine that in the ‘mom’ version.”

All the boys sitting in the common area thought about their respective mothers. Their eyes immediately went wide as the aura of hopeless seeped out. Their stream of consciousness slowly faded from existence.

“Ren-senpai, we sympathize,” majority of the boys all dejectedly huffed out a long sigh. A sudden burst of echoing laughter came from the girl’s bathroom, recognizing it as Uraraka’s.

“You’re laughing too much!” Ren’s quivering voice shouted.

“But—But–” Sputtering of tittering replaced her words instead.

“Seri, is the call set up?” she shouted.

“We hear you loud and clear, sweetheart,” the voice on the speaker phone echoed.

“Let’s get this crap over with.”

Ren trudged out of the bathroom wearing the first dress, trying to gather what she could of the fluffy fabric so she didn’t trip on it. Her face looked like how Bakugou’s was at the podium from the Sports Festival. A roaring fit of laughter filled the silence of the common room as she stood stationary, shaking from anger and embarrassment as she flipped them off with both hands.

The dress, for a lack of better words, made her look like a Mama at a brothel; all she was missing were the gaudy makeup and a cigarette in her mouth.

“Oh! Put the shoes on! I wanna see the full outfit!”

Letting out an audible growl, she roughly dropped the heels on the wooden floor with a clatter and gingerly stepped into them. Her mom squealed with delight on the call.

“How does it fit?!”

“Sequins are digging into every part of my skin like spikes and it hurts like my soul,” she deadpanned.

“Turn around. I wanna see the back.”

Throwing her head back and slumping her shoulders, Ren awkwardly turned with the 5-inch stilettos. She yelped aloud and tripped on part of the fabric from being caught on the jeweled part of her dress, subsequently falling flat on her butt with a muffled thud.

“Senpai! Please stop!” Jiro wheezed out between her fits of laughter and nearly rolled off her seat. “I can’t breathe!”

“Ren-Ren, you look like a clown’s mirror ball!” Tomoe blurted out loudly and fell over the armrest of the couch.

Angrily kicking the shoes off, Ren clumsily got herself off of the floor, slipping over the unnecessarily copious amount of fabric on her person while hissing audible profanities. She stomped back into the bathroom as everyone continued laughing. Uraraka stumbled along not too far behind to help her out of the dress.

“Why are they laughing? I thought she looked beautiful,” Ren’s mom blurted out.

“I think your definition of the word differs from theirs, Aunt Victoria,” Seri replied between her own suppressing giggles.

A shuffle of fabric could be heard at the far end of the hall, with Ren coming out wearing the midnight blue dress with her black bra showing itself through the mesh fabric. Her face was flushed from the commotion and embarrassment. The previous laughter was replaced with approving awes from the girls and furiously blushing faces from the boys.

“That… looks really good on you, senpai,” Kirishima praised with flushed cheeks, his red eyes unable to peel away. “You look… beautiful.”

“You’re supposed to wear that without the bra, honey,” her mom pointed out.

“Like hell I’m gonna take it off with perverts around!” she barked back at the camera on the phone, fuming.

Sensing a sudden disturbing force, Ren turned to her left and saw Mineta launching himself at her from one of the couches. The small sticky boy seemed to have been unable to contain himself anymore.

“Entrust me with your boob--” he shouted with a trail of drool coming from his mouth, only to have his lecherous face catch her hard right hook followed by launched quills from Tomoe to stick him to near the top corner end of the wall. Sero huffed a quick sigh and restrained the small boy with his tape.

“Good to see your reflexes haven’t dulled, Ren-Ren,” Seri remarked.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You really need to learn restraint, Mineta,” the boy huffed out.

“You should wear this one, Ren. It really shows off your figure.”

“This thing is half mesh and I’m freezing,” she complained and visibly shivered. “I can’t even think about moving in this thing without thinking about flashing side boob!”

“Which is perfect for some young gentleman to lend you his jacket at the party,” her mom fantasized dreamily over the line. “Just think of the possible–”

“Cut the call, Seri,” she coldly blurted out as she walked back to the bathroom.

“You’re so cruel! Doing that to your own mother!”

Ruffling the back of her hair, Ren stared down her next opponent: the pink bodice dress. It’s not that she minded wearing dresses, she just wished they weren’t so… form-fitting. And it’d show her scar. Uraraka came from behind to help her out of the dress carefully and prepared the next one.

“I really like the blue one, senpai,” she gushed.

“Then you wear it,” she blurted out and paused. She then slowly turned to her assistant with a sly grin, like a wolf cornering its prey.

“S-Senpai?” she quivered with fear in her eyes. “W-What are you doing?”

A high pitched scream echoed from the bathroom, making everyone jump out of their seats. The girls ran in to check the commotion, only to come back out moments later with matching grins.

“Is everything okay in there?” Midoriya asked with worry.

“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Ashido drawled out with a wink at the confused boy before returning to her seat.

“I’m so getting video of this,” Jiro mumbled out with excitement while setting up her phone camera.

First came Ren in the form-fitting pink dress, clearly flustered at the garment. She was trying her best to pull the slit close by grabbing it with her left hand so she didn’t flash anyone while walking. Her right arm covered her chest and shoulder scar; they looked like they were ready to fall out of the strapless dress due to the tightness of the band. The apparel literally left nothing to the imagination as it hugged every part of her. Feeling no one behind her, she darted back into the bathroom to drag Uraraka out.

“Noooo, senpai! Pleassseee!” Uraraka desperately pleaded while clinging onto dear life at the wall.

“Hey, if I’m making a fool out of myself with this, so will you!”

She used her full strength to pull the brown haired girl out from the confines of the bathroom. She stumbled out with flushed cheeks, wearing the blue gown Ren had on before. The boys were rendered speechless looking at them, some even looked away out of shyness. Bakugou could only stare at Ren wide-eyed, never realizing her body was that curvy.

“That dress fits Ochaco-chan so much better,” Seri approved and lightly blushed.

“’Cus she has the better boobs for it,” Ren blurted out, making the latter party yelp and cover up their chest out of shyness. “What do you think, Midoriya? Doesn’t she look good?”

The green-haired boy’s face was glowing red, with steam coming out of his ears as he whimpered and stuttered, unable to form any sort of wording.

“Ren-senpai, I never realized your butt was that big,” Jiro noticed, prompting her to put her hands behind there to hide it in failure. She wished she could sprout arms out like Shoji and cover up her entire being.

“Why do you think I always wear baggy clothes?!” she huffed out at the purple haired girl, her face flushing bright red before turning back to the camera. “And mom! Why did you even think this was a good idea?! I look like someone looking for a sugar daddy in this thing!”

“With that butt, I’ll give you all the sugar you need,” Mineta cooed out lustfully, only to be silenced the instant Seri and Tomoe launched their respective projectiles at him.

“Sleep now,” Seri’s eyes glowed yellow at the tied up boy and instantly knocked him out.

“I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad idea at the party–” her mom teased.

Her daughter silently glared and pursed her lips into a fine line, crossing her arms over her chest and tapped her feet impatiently.

“Are you done?” Ren flatly asked, clearly not amused with the selection of attires.

“I guess we are,” her mom pouted. “Are you sure you don’t wanna keep any of–”

“I’ll offer them to the Fire Gods as tribute and you’ll lose any hopes of a refund on your credit card.”

“Point taken.”

“Yao-Momo, Kyoka, can you help us get outta this stuff?”

Yaoyorozu placed a hand on the small of Ren’s back to escort her to the bathroom to change. She did a really awkward shuffle with the balls of her feet, like she really needed to pee.

“I seriously cannot move a muscle in this thing,” she muttered out within an earshot.

“Ochaco-chan, come on.” The tomboy musician helped her floaty friend back up on her feet and brought her back to change.

“Perhaps the bodycon wasn’t the best idea, Aunt Vicky,” Tomoe commented.

“I thought it’d look nice with her figure,” the woman pouted. “What did the boys think?”

“Well...” Seri trailed off and turned the phone camera over to the couches where they were sitting. They were all practically blushing from ear to ear, avoiding eye contact with everyone; Kaminari and Sero both crossed their legs suspiciously. Bakugou glared away, covering the lower half of his face with his hand as an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

The girls reemerged in their regular clothing a short moment later.

“I’m gonna be picking sequins out of my butt for the next week,” Ren grumbled out, wearing an annoyed expression and gently reached out to grab her phone from Seri’s hand. “Satisfied?”

Her mom heavily sighed on the other line. “Not my best choices, it seems.”

“You don’t say,” her daughter sarcastically replied and jutted her hip out when she rested her hand on top of it.

“Just be sure to get something to wear in the next three days, okay? I’ll get a courier to pick that stuff up.”

“I’m gonna wear a sleeping bag,” Ren joked.

She ended the call and placed the device back in her pocket, heaving a heavy sigh. “Sorry you had to see that, guys.”

“I… don’t think they’re going to answer anytime soon, Ren-Ren.” Tomoe cocked her head in the general direction of all the dumbfounded and stunned boys. “You gave ‘em quite a show.”

–

Ren emerged from the elevator to the common room dressed in a black and white jumpsuit with a draped black blazer on top on the evening of her mom’s embassy holiday party. Her hair was styled back with a bit of volume and her makeup consisted of black eyeliner, voluminous mascara and dark red lipstick. It was simple but dramatic enough to catch everyone’s eye. Just to be on the safe side, she adorned her bangles in case anything were to happen. She placed her heels near the door before heading to the couches and draped her peacoat and scarf draped on her arm before placing it on top. As she walked past, the boys caught a whiff of her honeysuckle and rose pedal perfume.

“Senpai, you look hot!” Ashido praised with excitement. “So grown up!”

“You’re not wearing a dress tonight?” Ochaco wondered.

“Jumpsuits are more my speed. Pockets and better mobility,” she explained.

Moments later, Todoroki came down the stairs in a navy blue suit with a black lapel. He wore a black skinny tie and a crisp white dress shirt underneath the jacket to match the black slacks. His hair was left unstyled.

“Whoa, Todoroki!” Kaminari whistled. “Lookin’ spiffy there, my dude.”

“You have a hot date tonight or somethin’, Todoroki?” Ashido half-joked with a grin.

“I have a function to go in place of my father tonight in Tokyo,” he replied in his usual stoic manner. “Since he’s still recovering from his last fight. Though, I’m sure he’s using it as an excuse.”

“Tokyo? Isn’t that where you’re goin’, Ren-Ren?” Jiro asked.

Before she could answer, her phone in her hand vibrated, notifying her the driver arrived at U.A.’s gate.

“Gotta go kiddies. Stay outta trouble.” Ren hurried to the shoe lockers and grabbed her belongings off the couch before putting her shoes on. “Todo-kun, wanna catch a ride? I’m sure they can drop you off wherever you need to go.”

“Sure.”

As they walked to the gate, the click of Ren’s heels filled the silence between the two. Catching the aroma of her perfume in the cold wintry air, it was then he realized how beautiful she looked tonight. Her simple eye makeup made her usual warm hazel-green eyes more striking.

“You look nice tonight,” he softly said. “The clothes suit you.”

“O-Oh. Thanks.” She looked up at Todoroki and gave him a small smile with a light blush on her cheeks. “You clean up nicely yourself.”

They get to the car and see Seri already in the back seat with a black coat with her dark purple dress showing up below and greeted one another. Settling in the middle seat, the boy made sure Ren had enough room when he got in and closed the door.

“Good, you’re on time,” a familiar voice spoke up from the front seat; it was Aizawa.

“Aizawa-sensei,” the dual-hair colored boy greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“For some reason, I got invited to the party at the embassy tonight, so we’re all going together.”

“’We’?” Ren questioned.

“It seems we’re headed to the same place, senpai.”

“At least we won’t be bored, Ren-Ren,” Seri chimed out with a devious smirk, her owl-like eyes gesturing to the boy on her right. She could only inwardly groan and felt her heart rate go up a few beats, remembering the conversation they had a few days ago and the kiss. The drive went by without incident and the party of four reached the embassy safely. Disembarking out of the car, Todoroki opened the door for both Seri and Ren on the other side like the gentleman he was.

The two girls thanked him and headed into the building together. Ren strolled up to the reception desk with purpose. It’s not exactly the most favorite place in the world for her; majority of her childhood were spent here after moving to Japan and waiting on their paperwork to be legal citizens in the country.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had much of a chance to talk, Todoroki-kun,” Seri softly spoke, looking at the back of her friend at the reception desk. “I’d like to ask you something.”

He softly turned and looked down at his petite upperclassman with a curious yet nonchalant gaze.

“What exactly is Ren to you?”

“A senpai. And… a friend.”

“Is that all?” she instigated, earning her a now suspicious stare from Todoroki.

“What do you mean, Kubo-senpai?” His tone was deep and clear like ice.

“She told me what happened with you two after the party the other night. One can only assume you have more than friendship emotions for her.”

His hetero-chromatic eyes looked down at his leather dress shoes, unable to come up with a proper answer. He swallowed heavily and clenched his teeth, frustrated at his lack of understanding of his own feelings.

“This goes without saying, but Tomoe and I are extremely protective of her. We won’t stand idly by and let someone play with her heart who wanted to give her a kiss on a whim. She’s more sensitive about things than she lets on.”

“It wasn’t on a whim… Nor am I trying to deceive her,” he softly retorted and sighed through his nose. “I’m just… not used to feeling this way with anything.”

“Then I suggest you properly sort it out first before acting,” Seri advised with a harsher tone than she intended. “I don’t wish to see her rejected again.”

“Like with her ex-boyfriend?”

“With Togata-senpai.” The owl girl corrected and sighed. “She may make light of her confession at him, but it hit her hard. Part of it stems from her survivor’s guilt. She thinks she doesn’t deserve to be happy and loved no matter what Tomoe and I say.”

Seri’s yellow owl eyes was crestfallen and looked like she was going to cry. Her hands gradually gathered part of her dark purple dress into her palm.

“I just… I don’t want to see her heart break all over again. She’s come so far.”

Knowing Ren’s history based on recent events, he stayed silent looking at the snow owl girl. What could he say? He had to grow up and face his feelings head on.

“Hey, you two okay?”

Ren’s voice roused them from their conversation and the two faced her wide-eyed. She held two silver colored wristbands in her right hand.

“Never better,” her bird friend answered with a bit more energy than before. Even though she didn’t seem convinced, neither one looked like they wanted to talk about it.

“Party’s at the top floor.” She handed each of them their wristbands to put on before walking past the lobby and toward the elevators.

“Where’s Aizawa-sensei?” the boy asked.

“He went on ahead to talk with some government officials about some hush-hush stuff.”

The ding of the elevator doors gave them permission to enter and found a security guard inside to guide them to the proper floor. The lift stopped once more and brought them to their destination. The three walked down the wide carpeted hallway slowly leading to the ballroom.

“Who do you think we’ll see there?” Seri wondered aloud.

“Probably the Preppy Posse,” Ren groaned and placed her left index finger on her temple, already feeling an oncoming headache in having to deal with them. “They’d never miss a party like this to schmooze and booze.”

“’Preppy Posse’?” Todoroki asked.

“They’re the sons of some of the ambassadors. For a lack of better words, their offsprings are a waste of air and quirks, reeking of privilege who think they’re above the law,” the owl girl summarized.

“They’re more trouble than they’re worth. I’d advise you to stay away from them, Todo-kun,” the rose-gold haired girl stated.

“They’re the types to suck up to powerful people for favors?”

“And Peppermint gets the winning point,” Seri praised.

The three stood at the giant doors and took a breath like they were going in for a boss fight.

“Let’s get this over with and get some ramen after.”

[combust-catalyst]

Two Sides of a Coin

Main Idea: Niwaki ( OC ) and class 1-A are doing hero combat class. And Niwaki hasn’t had the best of days at the moment, but since he has had a chance to relax, that anger or explosion isn’t going to end well.

Notes: I’ve been having a rough day at work within the few days to maybe a week and stress is going to literally make me explode. This kind of long.;;; I apologize for any grammar like mistakes and such. This is a Bakugou x OC story, but there isn’t a lot of per say interactions between them a lot as most is very non agreeable? Thus, I tried tagging them the best I could for what I believe is appropriate and not clutter other tags it’s not a part of.

Everyone has ups. Everyone has downs. Some people have good days. Some people have bad days. It was only a matter of how you dealt with those days. Relaxation was a way to ease the pain. Hobbies and activities one loved could release tensions. A good massage would help with tense muscles. A favorite beverage put you in a sense of bliss. Music or sounds could send away the painful migraine. Finally, a good chat with a good friend was a good way to make everything go way.

However, Niwaki had none of those things. At least, for the moment, Niwaki didn’t have any solutions. His days had been disgusting. As disgusting as being pushed by a large crowd on the way to school. It was the early mornings, so it was naturally busy. Crowded trains with business people clamping up against him with no mind for personal space. Clamping foot steps stomping on his feet. Yeah, this wasn’t a good start to his day. 

To find that his homework had been left at home that was due the very current day. Although, one could say it was yesterday that he had bad nightmares that made sleeping almost nonexistent. His abrupt awaking to his own yelling and nervous sweating made sleeping in the dark of night impossible as he would resort to  hiding under his sheets. Matters seem to only grown more when annoying voices in his head got to him. Or were they voices? Wait, where did the scratching noises come from? That was from a tree, right? 

A car driving pass a large puddle that splashed onto Niwaki’s pants. At least, it only got his shoes and lower parts of his pants up to his knees wet. Either way, he was on his way to school. He didn’t have even time to go back home and change again as that would require another crowd travel back on the train. He would have to go to class and just home he could hope that the air today and temperature was fair enough to make it bearable. 

To include insult to more problems, a random dog chased him on the way to school. It was uncertain to the boy as to where the dog came from, but he was sure it wasn’t home trained as the animal was not wearing a collar. Niwaki had not even encountered this dog nor agitated the canine in any way nor shape nor form. This was only their first encounter with each other for fucks sake! As why the dog had been so enamored with wanting to rip Niwaki’s jacket, the boy didn’t even know.

And it didn’t stop there. Even school was draining him dry. He had to explain to Present Mic for the missing assignment which didn’t end well. You know how one loves music? Well, Niwaki has his favorites, but let’s just say Present Mic’s voice was on a very low tier list. Low volume or quietness was not going part of that teacher’s characteristic. . . at all. 

“Seichikara,” Present Mic stopped.

“Yes,” Niwaki’s voice responded a bit ghoul and almost dead-like.

“You don’t seem to be lookin’ too hot, my dude.” Present Mic remarked as he took notice of Niwaki’s already badly messed up shoes and lower pants. “I’m not too angry over the missing assignment. Things happen, ya dig?”

“I’m fine.” Niwaki calmed as he raised his hands to prevent Present Mic’s further reassurance. “I’m completely fine, teach, okay? It’s just a rough day.” He looked away his expression clearly not equal to his own works, but his tone and pretending attitude seem to get through his teacher.

“If ya saying it’s all good, I’ll follow, but I still my suspicion.” he complied almost somewhat a bit against the sudden shrug off.

“Thank you,” Niwaki smiled as he bowed his head respectfully. 

All seemed to be well for Niwaki. Exiting the teacher’s lounge, Niwaki rubbed his forehead. It was subtle, but there felt to be two lump from his head. Maybe it was from the migraines. They tended to annoy him when he was in a bad mood such as today.

“Maybe I should just---,” he toppled a bit backwards against the wall. “Fuck! Ow.”

That was going to make his migraines worse for sure. As his eyes scanned for the source of the impact. They had locked eyes with a pair of two red eyes. One seemed a bit less harsh and almost apologetic while the other seems to have more of a hostile anger at him like he had ruined their day despite his own. 

‘I don’t have time for this!’ Niwaki hissed to himself. ‘I’ll just try to dispute this peacefully. Besides, no point get angry at someone who is already angry.’ 

At least, he was the only one thinking this.

“Watch where the fuck your going, you damn extra!” the voice barked.

Niwaki scratch that idea immediately out the window.

“Excuse you,” he barked back. “Say that to me again you puny spike puffer fish!”

The more hostile red eyes that he had locked into contact earlier had seem to take it as a challenge and immediately seem to inch closer to Niwaki. His height already somewhat taller than Niwaki’s. His teeth more shine and eyes that seem to want to pop out of his sockets. He continued, “Fucking say that shit again! ”

“Bakugou,” the one with much softer eyes and spiky red hair spoke up, “come on, dude! Knock it off!” His hand blocking the other one away from Niwako. His own sharp teeth smiling as his expression a bit more goofy was enough to keep Niwaki in place. “Listen, don’t my friend here, hehe. He’s been a bit rowdy. Things are comings up and he’s been on edge.” He extended his hand to Niwaki, “Names Eijirou! Kirishima Eijirou! Please to meet!” 

Niwaki leaned back a bit hesitant from the sudden change in mood. He wasn’t sure if he should be saying hello or glare at him. With whoever was behind him, Niwaki felt as if two auras was surrounding him: one that seem a bit too bright and one that seem too heavy. 

The soft eyed boy, Kirishima took notice of the situation. With a toothy grin once more, but with extra teeth, his other than pointed with his thumb back to the other one with much more hostility in his eyes that before staring at Niwaki, “And this is Bakugou! Katsuki Bakugou!”

Niwaki decided to at least comply with Kirishima’s introduction with his own accepting his extended handshake, “Seichikara. Niwaki Seichik---.”

“That damn extra doesn’t deserve to fucking know my damn name!” the boy, Bakugou, interjected. 

And with that, he made a swift jerk. His elbow bumping into Niwaki’s as he stomped off. His hand clamped into his pants that seem to be even more disgusting in Niwaki’s eyes. Someone like that goes to this school?! Kirishima was at least kind enough to give another apology for his friend before racing off to catch up with the puffer fish.

“See you in class later!” he waved. “We got combat practice today!”

The walk back to class had not been light enough to sooth the raging pain in Niwaki’s head. And bumps on his forehead felt a bit bigger than before. Maybe some ice packs might help or should he go see Recovery Girl.

‘My head hurts,’ Niwaki rubbed his face as he stepped into class. 

And the sight was rather over whelming to say it lightly. Normally a class held a number of possibly twenty students each, right? So why in the word was there over that number of students in the classroom now? Niwaki pinched his nose at how rowdy the conversation was. Was this a competition to see who could be the loudest?  If so, this would rival that noisy Bakugou guy from earlier; he seem to only knowing swearing at people for a first impression. His eyes scanned the room as he was able to tell that there was quite some students he had not encountered--at least not at a slight closer distance. 

“Why is there so many people here?” Niwaki groaned.

And just as he had pondered to leave the room, a door flew open. And what followed seemed to be none other than the R18 Hero, Miss Midnight. Niwaki’s face was at pure concern at this point. Although, he couldn’t deny a slight disgust at how close she was--as if blocking him from the only freedom he could see. 

“I hope you haven’t forgotten what today is.” she folded her arms as a smirk graced her lips. 

“A holiday? Special occassion?” Niwaki guessed. 

“Your combat training today.” she cheered. 

“Oh,” he deadpanned before burying his face in his hands. ‘Shit!’

Niwaki recalled Kirishima mention something about a combat hero class today. Was it really today though? Perhaps all those bad things earlier was a sign to stay home? Now Niwaki was feeling a bit disappointed at himself. It didn’t take long for him to wander before a hand landed on his right shoulder. His magenta eyes coming into contact with a familiar soft pair of red ones. 

“Hey again,” Kirishima grinned, “this is like our second meeting too! Haha!”

A pair of hostile red eyes returned to join the spiky red-hair.

“Not fucking you again,” Niwaki growled. “Can YOU not be here when I”M here?”

“I didn’t even say a damn thing to you!” Bakugou barked.

“Guys,” Kirishima stepped in as the rest of the class started to die down. “Come on.”

“You h---.” he started to bite back again until a gust of blew from behind him. 

His white hair flowing along the wind and tangling up his style. There was even a slight clumped together strand of hair that curled straight up like a swirl. Bakugou was loud yes and would grab quite the attention because of it. Yet, Niwaki had seem have a slight weird affect. As if the air was suffocating for a few of the students, the atmosphere felt too hot, but at the same time curiosity was a natural thing. Glancing behind him, where Miss Midnight had previously stood, but seemed to be with now two other teachers. Dressed in entirely all black that matched even his hair with only his scarf and belt standing out, the hero whose quirk disabled others, Eraserhead, otherwise known as Aizawa. And finally the quirk user that might as well be a mystery of his own nature, All Might.

All Might saluted in his rather same old masculine form, “I see everyone is full of energy!”

“I know, right?” Midnight agreed with glee.

“They may as well save it for today’s training instead of picking fights with each other.” Aizawa deadpanned not even the slightest interest shown for what today’s activity was going to be. He tilted his head at the students who eyes all trained on the teachers in front of the doorway. His hands pulling out a remote, “Today’s training will be working on your skills and such.” As he pressed a button in the direction of the wall, the wall began to press into the glass revealing suite cases each with different numbers. “Get dress and head out back for further instructions. We’ll be informing you more later on.”

And with that, Aizawa had left. Midnight following behind as she herself claiming it was a surprise for a few students. All Might had given a small encouraging speech before following as well. Most of the students were quiet while some had continued their chit-chat from earlier while carrying their suitcases to their respective dressing rooms. Niwaki just slip pass the two boys as he proceeded to grab his own suitcase. 

Although, he could never exactly escape one of them though.

“Hey, uh, Seichikara?” Kirishima called. 

Niwaki glanced to see them again except this time Bakugou was clearly looking away from him. Kirishima’s nervous expression as he rubbed the back of his head.

“I just want to say---,” he stopped as his eyes was looking up at Niwaki’s forhead. “Dude, is something wrong with your head?”

“What about my head?” Niwaki asked. “There is nothing there.”

“Look again, shit-head.” Bakugou intervened.

“Do you ever say anything that doesn’t come with an insult.” Niwaki growled. 

“Not my fault you fucking have a low attention span!” Bakugou pointed out.

“Dude,” Kirishima interrupted. “There is like two horns coming from the top of your head. Is that normal?”

The dark-skinned boy took a second to let those words seep in his ears. They were two lumps from maybe something that happen some time ago he had concluded. And they weren’t even that big like just bumps from a distance. Lifting up to touch his forehead, the curvature of the lumps was evident. A slight peak or edge was felt from the tips of his fingers that followed the curve. His eyes widen in horror. Was he getting sick? His mind rambled for answers, but only responded with a another throbbing headache that felt like a needle had been jabbed in his skull. 

“Ow,” Niwaki flinched as if static had got him.

“You don’t look so good.” Kirishima said eyes soften and voice laced with concern and worry. “I should go get the teachers.”

“No,” Niwaki grasp the spiky red-heads sleeve. His eyes widen as they came into contact with Kirishima’s. “I’m fine! Really! It’s just a bad headache symptoms that my quirk does sometimes! Yeah! That’s it! I’ll be fine! It’s nothing to worry over! Some fresh air will do the trick!”

Kirishima squinted his eyes. His eyes appearing to struggle at trying to keep eye contact with Niwaki who might as well look to be helpless pup begging it’s owner for attention. It was then Niwaki’s eyes had noticed the puffer fish, Bakugou, walking off. It didn’t matter to him in the least what the ash-blond did. Niwaki was not going to have this day go any more crazy that is already was. He’d just needed to get through this class today and everyone should be sooth sailing. Besides, hero combat training was one of his favorite classes for many reasons, but there was something more special about it for him at least.

“Seichikara,” Kirishima pulled Niwaki away from his thoughts, “you should really go tell the teachers.”

“I’ll be fine.” Niwaki smiled as a way to reassure Kirishima before sneaking his way out of the topic, “Say, do you have any idea what’s going on with today’s hero class?”

Niwaki didn’t mean to do it, but if it went on forever, Niwaki was going to be stuck here. And besides, peoples quirk have weird reactions to their owners internal problems. You could get a cold and your body temperature could drop or you sneeze ice icicles. His quirk was just reacting to his body he guessed. 

The travel to the boys dressing room was a pretty nice and chill. Of course, a few other students that were headed there two was a bit more rowdy than most. Kirishima had no idea from what Niwaki was inferring from that the classes was a bit more of a secret. This meant no one knew what to expect. Yet, the boys enthusiasm was something Niwaki found quite nice; that and his optimism. When you two went inside to finally change, Kirishima brought up an interesting question or it might be called expected.

“Oh,” he started to chuckle, “this seems really intrusive to ask since we just met today even though more than an hour ago. But mind if I ask what’s your quirk?”

“If I told you,” Niwaki laughed, “you’d use it against me. Besides, we don’t know what the teachers have in store for us all to do.”

“Agh,” Kirishima groan, “you’re right. Darn!”

As Niwaki proceeded to dress in his hero costume or well, uniform? His uniform was a bit easy for movement, but enough that he didn’t feel like a completely copy of other ones. However, his most precious item was his gloves. It was maybe a personal taste or how it had many meanings. Yet, for Niwaki, his gloves might as well be his most important part of his identity.

The meet up with teachers was calm. With all students dressed up in their hero costumes, Niwaki couldn’t help, but look around. Some costumes were easy to tell the owners quirk and others took a bit more subtly. One couldn’t help, but find some others amazing in appearances and gave off intense or cute aura. Even some where quite plain or disturbing.

Midnight shifted her hips which her hands rest, “Heroes must be able to improvise and work along with others. This includes making the best use of each others quirks and special skills that go beyond just the basics. Cooperation and teamwork are crucial in any situation.”

“Putting your complete trust in your teammate!” All Might laughed. “A hero can be not just be a single person in the light, but duo--or even a group!”

“Which is why,” Aizawa stepped up in between the two one foot ahead of them in front of the students. “You’ll be working in pairs of two in today’s hero training.”

Excitement filled the air as some felt a bit enjoyment. Niwaki was not one of them. If working with another person while having a headache could count as a good, Niwaki would be showing enthusiam. Instead he smacked his head into his palms internally screetching. 

‘This can not get any worse!’ Niwaki screamed. 

“Working as pair, one of you will be wearing these,” Midnight announced as she held up a ribbon like necklace. “This is in a way treasure in the heroes possession that the villains will be going after. There is a tracking devise to allow us to keep track of every piece. Villain will not be given one as their objective to obtains the very ribbon one of the two of you possess. Of course, this will not be a battle royal to avoid any dangerous destruction.” Her eyes glanced at Aizawa and All Might who seem to be avoid her glance. 

“Of course,” All Might coughed. “We will be observing closely from near the area and in a security room to allow other students to watch and learn from their classmates.”

“I’ll be announcing who the pairs are.” Aizawa put his hands in his pockets; his head tilting a bit. “During these decision it was between use three to pair you with particular partners due to either quirks, personality, or behavior.”

As Aizawa proceeded to name the students pair, Niwaki bit his lip. His fingers toyed with his hair. Every pain he felt began to weigh him more and more. He massaged his temples from the tips of his fingers. His eyes closing to trying take in the cool air that graced upon his skin.

“And lastly, Seichikara,” Aizawa announced, “you will be paired with Bakugou.”

Like a bunch of glasses falling apart, the world or soothing ease Niwaki had put himself in had gone down the drain. His eyes widen in horror. He did not need to deal with the puffer fish! And certainly not on this course as his partner! And it seemed that Niwaki was not the only one as Bakugou’s own eyes locked with his matching the shocked expression.

Throughout the rest of the day, the training had gone pretty nice. Each students prevailed while some barely went through. Yet, there was also a tiny portion that would fail or get carried away in the moment. Niwaki found it to be a good source to watch with excitement. Yes, the whole partner thing had gone on pretty terrible, but Niwaki wasn’t going to let Bakugou make his headaches kill him. 

“You might want to get ready.” Midnight smiled. “You and Bakugou’s turn is coming up.’

“Right,” Niwaki’s face clearly struggling to smile as he glanced at his surrounding to find the puffer fish nowhere in sight.

Approaching the area which was a city construction that seemed almost too familiar, Niwaki walked at the entrance with his white necklace around his neck. Bakugou’s back being the only thing Niwaki could see. Expanding a sigh, Niwaki had to take this seriously. The only problem was how do you talk to someone who gives off an aura of “don’t talk to me”.

“So depending on who we’re up against,” Niwaki initiated the talk, “we need to be cautious in case its some whose quirks we don’t know. Got anything to say to that?”

“Just stay put and out of my way,” Bakugou deadpanned his eyes entirely focused ahead of him.

“This is a team, more so duo,” Niwaki warned. “We do this as a pair not as a one man army!”

Before the talk or argument get more higher, Aizawa interrupted.

“Team Bakugou and Niwaki will be playing against Team Kirishima and Sero.”

Niwaki blinked, “I was worried for something else.” He glanced at Bakugou, “You’re friends with Kirishima, right? So you got to know at least his quirk.”

Instead of answering his question, Bakugou proceeded inside the area. Niwaki racing right behind. Was this really the time to not talk? This was important.

“Bakugou,” Niwaki barked as his glove grabbed onto his shoulder roughly turning him around, “I’m not going to just let your recklessness get us in trouble right now! I’m trying to work with you! It would be APPRECIATIVE if y----.”

Before Niwaki could finish, Bakugou was close to elbowing Niwaki in the side. Luckily, Niwaki was observant as his free hand gripped Bakugou’s elbow. His eyes came into contact with the  same hostile and fierce red ones since the just more than an hour ago they met. Was this idiot truly going to do this now? Niwaki was internally grateful to be able to react quickly enough to prevent his anger to lash out at them so violently free. Besides, Niwaki wasn’t a pushover. 

‘I’ll have to thank Kirishima for this.’ he reminded himself.

“And I said don’t get in my way,” Bakugou barked. “Is all you do is ask god damn stupid questions?”

“When I’m trying to talk to a puffer fish,” Niwaki responded, “who by the way, looks angry almost every fucking second then yes I do!”

The air was thick. Perhaps from the humidity in the air or the wind that was blowing at them, but Niwaki’s stance stayed the same against Bakugou. His hands gripping Bakugou’s elbow that seemed to be fighting against the hold. Niwaki’s magenta eyes glowing bright as his teeth clench. This was already difficult as it was! Niwaki had enough problems and troubles that came along his way. His days had been disgusting enough! And now having to work with an uncooperative teammate was just as bad and fueling the fire.

“I am asking you one last time,” Niwaki’s voice deepened almost like a beastly growl, “will you----.”

It was unfortunate the sentence couldn’t be finished as Niwaki felt a strong grip wrapped around his shoulders that restricted his arms. He stared down as he was exposed to white like tape. His eyes checked with Bakugou as his own attention was no longer focused on the brown-skinned boy, but rather behind him. 

“Damn it,” he growled.

Niwaki’s eyes glanced back following the source of the white tape. At the end, a light skinned and dark haired boy about taller than Niwaki whose elbow was rather larger than the average human had a look of a grin on his face. Kirishima had stood right next the boy; a less cocky but confident smile on his face.

“Yo,” Kirishima saluted, “no hard feelings, right?”

“This is too easy!” he laughed as he began to reel Niwaki in.

Niwaki’s glared behind him. This was already stressful. His teammate wasn’t even cooperative! Now, Niwaki was stuck in some fucking tape! His head was pounding. The pain of needles felt like a pain of a sledge hammer hitting at his cranium over and over again. His teeth screeching as they lost their form. His eyes kept the same glow. The nubs on his head felt less small and short, but rather longer and stretching as if growing in size. 

“Fuck you,” Niwaki yelled as he reckless fought to break free of the black-haired boy’s restraints. “And fuck this fucking tape!”

Everyone around remained silent as Niwaki seem to behave entirely different as he even gripped at the tape to rip it off. Bakugou, who appeared ready to suddenly fight was silent as Niwaki’s sudden emotion was more hostile than he had seen previously. Despite all of this, Niwaki was behaving like some wild animal or insane badger.

“Eh, uh, Sero,” Kirishima blinked, “are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Another Bakugou?” the black-haired boy, Sero, asked.

“No,” Kirishima denied. “Seichikara looks. . . different?”

“Wh---.” Sero lifted and eye brow. 

Not giving Sero a chance to continue his talk with Kirishima, Niwaki clawed his hands into the ground for support as he began to pull back away from Sero. This resulted in Sero stumbling forward almost into the ground. 

Niwaki grinned, “Not so tough with you being the one pulled in huh?” Niwaki shifted his weight again causing Sero to follow along almost helplessly. 

Leaning up, Niwaki’s voice groaned as he bit his lip. His eyebrows furrowing in anger, but concentration. It was enough as he was able to get himself onto one knee. He had enough being through shit and he wasn’t going to allow others knock him down more than the day had succeeded ahead of them. His eyes glanced up a pair of red ones, ones Niwaki immediately recognized and felt his anger get higher. The same eyes that had nothing, but hostility to him had now turned to caution. 

“You,” Niwaki hissed as he began approach Bakugou.

Each step was followed a low growl. Niwaki’s entire appearance that had been nothing had grown into some beast. His eyes had been clouded black with the only magenta glow that stared down the explosive boy. Marking from his head down to pass his neck, almost unrecognized. And the thumping nubs on his forehead had extended upwards--almost horn-like. Bakugou only keeping his stance against Niwaki as small sparks began to fly off his palms.

Niwaki’s step faultered as he was yanked back once more, this time it was Kirishima was assisting Sero who was having more trouble than before from the pain of his arms. Kirishima’s skin almost rock solid as he appearance to stomp his foot in the ground to get solid grounding and not budge, “Seichikara, snap out of it!”

“What are you talking about,” Niwaki grinned as he gripped tighter on the tape and with one more pulled had yanked the two off the ground. His body shifted as he tossed the two into a nearby building. “I’m perfectly fine!” His eyes jerked to the side in search of Bakugou. The white-like tape no longer wrapped around him, but rather loose on the ground. A grin on his faced never leaving, “Now--!”

Boom!

From a large explosion that collided with Niwaki directly in the face, the dark skinned boy was sent back quite a distance. A large rumble had fallen in front of him as a few pebbles of concrete had seem to fall apart from the structure of the ground. A groan escaped his lips as the contact had been quite a dizzy one. Yet the point blank blast was a bit more obnoxious as he was pretty sure he received quite a few bruises. 

“Son of a bitch,” Niwaki yelled as he began to stand up again. 

His eyes stared directly at the source in front as Bakugou had his palm outward aiming for Niwaki. 

“Tch,” Bakugou clicked his tongue.

“I’m gonna---.” Niwaki yelled as he stomped his foot forward before sprinting directly at Bakugou.

“That is quite enough!” a voice called.

“Huh,” Niwaki hissed before his eyes came into contact with a pink like mist and a smell that seemed too soothing. His eyes blinked a bit trying to fight his, but he fell to his knees. His face colliding with the ground. “God damn it,” was his last words before he collapsed.

Once Niwaki opened his eyes, he stared up at a ceiling. Was he home? That could be possible? Was he at the hospital? No, lights there were much brighter and room develop noise from outside to which there was none. He leaned up. He gripped his head almost as if his brain lost its still state and bumped into his skull from the insides. To call it a headache than--no! Comparing it to over grown headache was a laugh. This pain strung him like his brain was ping ball and his skull was the table. Not a pretty sight at all to imagine.

“Oooowwww,” he groaned. “Myyyy heeaad huurts.”

“Well,” an elderly voice lectured, “that what you get when you neglect a headache! Especially with what it caused!”

Niwaki looked to his side greeted by an elderly woman whom he immediately recognized as Recovery Girl. Shit, he was in the school infirmary. Well, it was better than a hospital, so he couldn’t argue against that. Yet, his mind wandered to the class he should be in before finding where he was now. What happen to everyone? Where was the teachers? His mind went back to what happened earlier. His hands covered his face with shame. What about Kirishima? He hoped he didn’t injure him or that Sero guy too badly. Considering his anger and burst of rage, they might as well be mad at him.

“He hates me.” Niwaki confessed as his voice dropped.

“What?” another voice called from the entrance. “What are you talking about? Hate who?”

“Huh,” Niwaki blinked.

At the doorway, the three teachers stood behind as the three students Niwaki recognized from the fight earlier. The guy Niwaki recalled earlier to be Sero, who was on the left side of Kirishima, had a few bandages of his own and possibly a brace for one of his elbows. Niwaki sweatdropped as he knew exactly why that was the case. Bakugou on the other side of Kirishima preferring to not even still make eye contact. He looked perfectly find as usual, but that reason was because Niwaki was restrained earlier and didn’t get to punch him at all. As for Kirishima, he was in a few bandages, but there wasn’t a lot of them as his expression was full confusion.

“I mean,” Niwaki started, “look at you two! Those were my fault!”

“They were.” Aizawa interrupted. “That’s a reason I had Midnight around just in case things got out of hand.” He scratched his head. “Present Mic had informed me earlier this morning about your earlier condition.”

“And you still let him continue in class,” Recovery Girl summarized, “knowing full well he may just burst?”

“When you put it like that,” All Might scratched his own head clearly not able to argue at the truthful fact. 

Niwaki interrupted, “I was the one that didn’t confess though.” He looked down at his hands, “I was having a rough day and just thought it would pass, but my headache just kept growing and then I got irritated.” 

Recovery Girl sighed, “Bottling in emotions are damaging to your mental and physical health! It is even worse for those around you who are unfairly targeted due to your emotional outburst!” She turned to the teachers who seemed a bit terrified. “And as teachers you should be more careful for letting it almost get too far!”

All Might apologize as did the other two. Midnight sighed as she smiled at Niwaki, “For now, how are you feeling? I can imagine after all outburst, you’re more sore than ever.”

Niwaki chuckled, “I’ll be alright, for real this time.” He smiled at Recovery Girl, “I’ll try to keep that advice next, Recovery Girl. Thank you.”

“Well,” Recovery Girl sighed, “with a quirk like yours, healing shouldn’t be a problem. You have quite a lot energy for that.”

“I thought Niwaki’s quirk was super strength!” Kirishima yelled astounded. “That’s not his quirk!”

Niwaki rubbed his head, “Inside voices please.”

“Sorry,” Kirishima flinched. “I mean with how you was about to like grip Sero’s tape and just fling him off---and me!”

“Well,” Niwaki sweat dropped, “it’s part of my quirk.” Niwaki had a feeling explaining was going to be quite a pain. “Let’s just says it’s like two sides of a coin?”

“Oh,” Sero called, “like Todoroki’s, right?”

“That’s kind of close to it.” Niwaki sweat dropped. 

Kirishima nodded a few times appearing to take in this information. Bakugou groaned which caused everyone to stare at him expecting some exchange of words between him and Niwaki. 

“Your hands,” Bakugou glared. “That’s the source of your quirk, isn’t it?”

Niwaki sighed, “I did say it’s hard to explain. But I mean Sero already got it.” 

Niwaki rolled his eyes as Bakugou clicked his tongue and jerked his head away. He had a feeling he was going to encountering Bakugou a lot more often for the rest of the year. And honestly, Niwaki wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

[xoxoendoh]

A Prickly Pair

Prompt: Temari Week / Month 2018, Day 1: Hourglass ⏳ (Sorry I’m late!)

Summary: Shika tries his damnedest to ensure Tema’s first birthday they spend together is perfect…but life has a way of turning the best intentions upside-down. ;) Ninja-verse + all the Naruto crew!

Also, if my god-awful 🌵 pun of a title didn't give it away, lemme just say this: prepare yourself for a long fic with major fluff and cracky humor! 

Rating: T; colorful language, birthday booze, some suggestive themes 😏 There are two f-bombs—two!—but they are well-deserved, so I'm leaving this fic as T.

Soundtrack: “Magic in the Hamptons” by Social House (ft. Lil Yachty)—it's so damn catchy!

Also: Hanakotoba is the art of conveying messages / sentiments through flowers. For example, you might send yellow camellias to a SO who's been away on business as a way of conveying "longing." 💐

Read on FF.net here + this will have a Part II / continuation...soon-ish!

Shikamaru knew he was in trouble. One way or another, he knew he was going to have his ass handed to him. As that notion wasn’t exactly incentivizing, ...his lazy ass had procrastinated: now he had one day.

“What a drag…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, both elbows resting on his thighs.

If there was one thing he knew about the other troublesome women in his life—his mother, Ino, Sakura, even the Godaime—it was that their birthdays might as well have been national holidays.

But if he did what his troublesome woman claimed she wanted, he’d literally be doing nothing. For her birthday.

When he’d seen Temari last month, he had manned the hell up. He’d gritted his teeth, grumbled out of the corner of his mouth, and eventually inquired about her looming birthday. Her response, of course, had been less than helpful. She’d crossed her arms in a huff and flicked her blonde head in the opposite direction. He couldn’t see her face, but he heard her loud and clear: “Shikamaru, you idiot. It’s just a birthday. Don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?”

Easier said than done, you impossible woman! he thought, shaking his head.

Because what if she was just saying that? What if she wanted the whole dog and pony show and he was just supposed to know? What if she was playing at one of those stupid female mind games?

Even worse, this wasn’t just any birthday. Oh, no. Of course not!

This year, she’d be stuck in Konoha for the next Chunin Exams planning conference—far away from her family and working on official Suna business. On top of that, this would be their first ‘big event’ or ‘anniversary’ or ‘milestone’—or whatever the hell it was birthdays actually were!—since they became a couple. It had only been three months since they’d made it official, …and that feat had been a special sort of excruciating in itself.

At the memory, Shikamaru face-planted into his folded arms, a feeble effort to hide from the lingering embarrassment. Taking her off the market should’ve been the hardest part! How the hell was he supposed to know it only got more confusing from there?

Because what if she really wasn’t big on birthdays? What if he wrecked it by going all out? Did she want it to be just the two of them? Did she want to pretend birthdays didn’t exist?

“Damn it, I’m hopeless with this stuff…” he grumbled into his elbow, before letting out a long groan. “I’m so screwed, I should have just sent word to her brothers and asked!” He felt a drop of sweat bead under his ear and trickle down.

Too late for that now, genius.

But he was a genius, and there had to be a way to not screw this up! He couldn’t afford to, not so early on in the relationship, not when he didn’t have enough—or any—romantic capital stockpiled to make up for it! But no matter how many different scenarios he ran through, they all played out the same way—painfully. He could see it all so clearly:

Temari backhanding him into next week. Temari grabbing him by the collar and chucking him out a window. Temari launching him airborne with a single swish of her fan. Temari summoning Kamatari to bite his ear off.

Damn, his girlfriend was scary. The thought made his frown falter….

That huffy little pout. The way her blonde pigtails bounced when she stomped over to him, her little hands twitching and ready to slap some sense into him. Her eyes getting that scary teal-fire glow…

He sighed and shook his head, utterly defeated.

Damn her, he thought, grinning despite himself. She’s beautiful even when she wants to wring my neck. He sat up to look across the Nara land, noting the sun’s angle in the melting sky.

If he was going to get his teeth kicked in no matter what he did, he might as well try to do something nice for his girl, …right? He seized the moment of motivation, forming an oval with his fingers, and closed his eyes.

Take her at her word and just find a happy medium! he ordered his brain. Surprisingly, the conclusion came to him a moment later: Dinner with the crew. No one hates a dinner party, and everyone loves her. Done. Easy.

Shikamaru let out a satisfied yawn and crossed his arms, pleased to have settled the matter.

Hold up, genius. Her birthday present!

His hands flew back together.

Damn it, jewelry?

No, he’d never seen Temari wear any, and jewelry would probably breach her “big deal” rule.

Chocolate?

No, they were going to a dinner party. Food on food would be stupid, right?

What do you want, woman?? he wondered bleakly. This is worse than getting Naruto and Hinata’s wedding present! He’d be willing to shell out whatever it took if she would just like what he got her….

Losing the iota of motivation he’d mustered, he lowered his head in another trademarked Shika-sigh.

Times like these, he wished Asuma were still around.

He wished the same for his dad, of course…but Shikaku would have just shrugged noncommittally and told him to ask his mother, anyways. He’d already tried that. His mom, however, had been no help at all. All she’d done was gush about how ‘talented’ and ‘lovely’ Temari was until he’d fled the damn house! Like he needed reminding...

But Asuma…

Well, he would have loved Temari, too. But he would’ve had at least something helpful to offer!

Who am I kidding? Shikamaru couldn’t help the chuckle he felt in his chest. Like Asuma had any moves, anyway! Kurenai-sensei just took pity on the guy. He’d just tell me to get Temari flowers, like it was that simple.

Shikamaru sat up straight, struck by the sheer simplicity of it. Maybe it was that easy, maybe Asuma had it right! Flowers wouldn’t be too flashy or too much of “a big deal” or whatever Temari had called it.

Alright, Dad, Asuma-sensei..., he thought with a faint smile, standing to shrug his hands into his pockets. Let’s see if that famous ‘Ino-Shika-Cho teamwork’ can conquer this.

Game-face on, he trudged his way to the Yamanaka Flower Shop.

If he had thought he’d be prepared for Ino’s excitement, he’d have been dead wrong. Of course, he knew Ino better than that.

“So, uh, do you have any, uh…” he trailed off, unable to look her in the eye, feeling his entire body go tomato-red. Clearing his throat, he tried again, but every word combined into one: “DoyouhaveanyflowersfromSuna?”

Somehow, she deciphered the question he’d asked his feet.

“Shikamaru!” she screamed. “I have been waiting for you to drag your lazy ass in here and get her something! You really know how to wait until the last minute, huh?”

He could hear the haughty smirk in her voice.

“But really, Shikamaru, it’s so sweet!” She sighed dreamily. “You and Temari are perfect together…. And flowers from her home country…”

He looked up just in time to see her eyes glassing over as she clutched at her heart.

“Of course we’ll help you!” Abruptly, the honey left her voice and she traded her doe-eyes for her signature scowl. “Right, Choji?” she growled, smacking Choji’s hand as he reached for the last morsel in her bento,

“Y-yeah, Shikamaru!” he piped up, his red hand floundering until it landed on the back of his neck. “We’ve got your back, bud. You know we love Temari.”

Shikamaru felt relief surge through his system: these two would always save his ass.

Not wasting any time, Ino leapt over the counter, apron strings trailing behind her, and bodily dragged Shikamaru after her. Ignoring his grousing, she wound them through the rows of greenery and fragrant blooms until they reached a partitioned-off portion she called “The Suna Section!!”

“We actually have a pretty good variety of desert plants,” she declared proudly, sweeping a hand out before four tables overflowing with vegetation.

As Shikamaru bent his knees and gaped at the selection, his teammate prattled on, getting more excited with every question:

“So what else are you going to do for her birthday? It’s tomorrow, right? When does she arrive?”

Shikamaru knew she needed answers, but all he could do was gawk at the array of…things…in front of him. There were some squat little plants with ungainly, fat leaves…but they were kinda pretty in their own way: the stupid little leaves fanned out like petals, and they came in purple or a greeny-blue. Above those, he was pretty sure he recognized aloe stalks. Then there were a series of lethal- and ugly-looking things—the sort of things Shikamaru was positive would end up impaling him if he dared to present them to Temari. Spiky barbs, serrated leaves, deceptively plushy-looking fluff guaranteed to needle under the skin… There was nothing even remotely attractive about them….

“Helloooo? Shikamaru?” Ino flicked his ear. “Don’t ignore me when I’m trying to save your ass! What are your plans for Temari??”

“Oh,” he jerked his head up to face her. “Uhh…”

Her hands were on her hips, and he’d learned long ago that was never a good sign.

Laughing nervously, he rose. “Heh, I was kinda, ya know, hoping you’d help with that, too, Ino....”

Exasperated, she groaned. “Ugh, remind me to kill you later.”

Waving his hands in placation, he tried, “But you’re so good at this sort of thing!”

She got that creepy feline grin on her face again—the one that meant she saw through his lame ploy, the one that meant she was plotting—and gave him a wink.

“Fine, I’ll bide my time,” she conceded with an innocent smile. “But watch your back, ‘kay?”

Shikamaru shrugged and rubbed at his neck. He’d worry about her vengeance after he solved the birthday equation.

“Yeah, yeah. So anyway, Temari told me not to make a big deal out of it, but I figure I can’t do nothing.”

“Damn straight, Shikamaru.” Ino nodded sagely. “Damn. Straight.”

“So I was thinking just a simple dinner with the usual group…?”

“That’s perfect!” she squealed.

Shikamaru sighed, grateful for Ino’s stamp of approval.

“Casual and low pressure, but it shows that you thought about it and planned ahead. Well...,” Ino paused to throw him a glare, “that you should have planned ahead—but whatever!”

Ino turned on her heel, clearly satisfied with the intel she’d gleaned.

“W-wait! Ino!” Shikamaru had never sounded so desperate in his life. “Hey, c’mon! Don’t leave me with the plants!”

“Oh, calm down,” she smirked from over her shoulder. “Look them over, read the little descriptions, and just choose one you think she’d like! But actually read the tags, Shikamaru. ‘Cause some flowers have special meanings…and some species are poisonous!”

“Poisonous??”

He gaped at her.

Ino giggled at his appalled expression. She was enjoying his pain. So much.

She’d started out the night as his second favorite blonde…but Naruto had just made the leap up to silver.

“You’re a ninja, you can handle a few thorns! …And it’s not like the poisonous ones are fatal or anything.” With that, she was off, sliding open the screen and skipping through the rows and rows of flowers. “Oh, Chooooji!” she sang for the whole shop to hear. “We’re going to make Shikamaru look real good for his girlfriend! You’re in charge of the dinner reservations, and Sai and I will call everyone to get them on board.” She clapped her hands together like she’d never been so delighted in her life.

“How about that place with the little courtyard in the back? Best barbecue pork in town, great for a party!” he heard Choji offer.

Were they inviting all of Konoha to this thing, or were they just aiming for death by embarrassment?

“Oh, perfect! You’re their best customer, they’d totally pull some last-minute strings for you!”

Shikamaru could almost hear her bouncing in excitement. So maybe she was still his second favorite blonde, but did she have to be so loud?

“Shikamaru,” she called on cue, “we’re off to go plan your girlfriend’s party! Just leave the cash on the counter once you decide, my mom will be down in a bit to close up!”

Shikamaru grimaced as the door slammed. Choji wouldn’t let him down, and Ino was undoubtedly his savior…but he didn’t know a damn thing about plants. He didn’t want to know a damn thing about plants. Griping to himself, he knelt before the green things, cautiously shifting a few pots out of the way to see the full assortment, …waiting for a scorpion or something to lunge at him.

“Pick a plant, pick a plant…,” he droned miserably to himself.

Something not-hideous at the back caught his eye. As he reached toward it, the mesh of his sleeve dragged against some spikes. Glancing down at the culprit, he realized it was a furious-looking—yet somehow beautiful—cactus. Complete with a single, white bloom of multilayered petals, it looked rather like someone had glued a lotus to some wild desert thing. The more he looked at it, the wider his grin grew. It was just like Temari—as gorgeous as it was troublesome—and it was like it had chosen him! As he tried to disentangle himself without catching the spines of any other friendly Suna flora, he knocked over the small ‘Hanakotoba’ card in front of it.

My bad, Yamanakas. Like he was going to risk life and limb to pick up a scrap of paper!

But as he rotated his arm to dislodge the thorns from his shirt, he nicked his wrist.

“Damn,” he muttered, finally succeeding in freeing himself. It wasn’t a grumble this time: “Oh, shit!” Is this one of the poisonous ones?!

He extracted the cactus from the deathtrap of a display and snatched up the description tag staked near its base, frantically scanning for the mention of ‘poisonous’ or ‘toxic.’ Thankfully, it just said ‘See reverse for Hanakotoba Symbolism: Saboten’ and listed the care and lighting instructions. Relieved, he backed away with his hard-fought prize.

“’Symbolism’?” he scoffed, tucking the tag back into the pot. “Pffft. Like Temari cares about that!”

Mission completed, he marched triumphantly to the cash register, slammed the appropriate bills down on the counter, tore off several feet too many of red cellophane wrapping, and vowed never to set foot in the “Suna Section!!” again. 

Temari was all the desert he needed.

–

Temari’s birthday evening was off to a solid start. She’d arrived safely and seemed genuinely pleased with the dinner party idea.

“So you do pay attention every now and then, huh?” she’d purred, smirking at him. Then her lips had softened. More quietly, she’d said, “It’s just what I wanted. A nice evening with my friends and my idiot boyfriend.” She’d kissed his cheek then.

Blood rushed to his face, pride swelled up in his chest: he hadn’t let her down.

Not yet, at least.

But as he went down the ‘gentleman boyfriend checklist’—a set of rules Ino had long ago hammered into her male teammates’ heads—things seemed to keep going smoothly.

They’d parted ways so she could settle in and clean up after her long trek. He’d meticulously mummified her present in that red florist wrap. And he’d done it in a way that would preserve the flower at the top, protect the recipient from the spines, and lead to easy unveiling. Then he’d shown up on time and remembered to bring the stupid plant, just like Ino had instructed. He was actually feeling pretty proud of himself….

And when she exited her hotel, he’d managed to compliment her with a straight face—no fumbling for words or blushing or inappropriate glances!

“You look amazing, Temari.”

It had been no easy feat, however. Seeing her there in the soft glow of the streetlamps… She’d gotten all dolled up in a jade sundress, simple but stunning against her eyes and sun-kissed skin, clinging to the perfect hourglass of her body.

“And you clean up pretty nice yourself, kid,” she retorted, clearly hoping the jab to his sternum would distract him from her rosy cheeks.

It didn’t.

“Glad you didn’t wear a tie, though, or I’d be underdressed!”

Her dark eyes spotted the bright package resting in the crook of his elbow. She quirked an eyebrow and couldn’t quite keep that half-smile of hers from surfacing.

Her voice dripped of sarcasm as she pointed at it: “Should I be scared?”

“Yes,” he said smugly before offering her his arm, like a gentleman.

Hand in hand, they started off for the restaurant. For once in his life, he stood up straight, rolling his usually-slouched shoulders back. He was escorting a bombshell to dinner, so he should at least try to look the part, right?

Halfway to the restaurant, the wind picked up. Shikamaru mentally crossed ‘chivalry’ off his checklist and shrugged off his blazer to drape over her shoulders. She blushed prettily up at him with a sweet smile on her lips.

Keep it up, Shikamaru, he told himself, grinning down at her, and you might just live to see tomorrow!

At last, that lingering sense of dread was fading, and contentment rose to take its place: if there was something he hadn’t thought of, he was sure Ino and Choji had.

When they walked through the courtyard gate, they were greeted with woops and calls of Happy birthday! Temari squeezed his hand and beamed up at him.

Ino rushed over, towing Sai along by the hand, and kissed Temari on both cheeks. “Happy birthday, Temari! You look beautiful—teal is definitely your color.” Not waiting for a response, she snatched the birthday cactus, wrapped shiny and red, from Shikamaru’s hands and transferred it to Sai, who accepted it with a pleasant smile. “We’ll put this with the others. Now, come on and get something to eat!”

“Okay?” was all Temari had time to manage as Ino dragged her off.

As he and Sai followed Ino under the string lanterns, Shikamaru noted his team’s handiwork.

Choji had been right to choose this venue; it was perfect for a private party: the stars were shining, the moon was bright in the sky, the spread was mouthwatering, the barbecue tables allowed for easy mingling and warmed the cool night air. And the turnout was impeccable, considering the literal last minute notice of it all. Everyonewas there. Then again, he knew better than most just how difficult it was to refuse Ino. No doubt, she had personally corralled any stragglers.

“Shall we get a beer, genius?” Sai offered mildly, placing the cactus with the other gifts.

“Beer?” Shikamaru questioned and followed along. He was no longer fazed by Sai’s odd nicknames, but beer piqued his interest. Temari won’t mind, right? Nobody will go too crazy, …right?

On cue, Kiba and Choji appeared, frothing cups in hand, and regaled him with the tale of their labors:

Like mushers with a sled dog, they’d actually strapped a keg of beer to Akamaru, transformed it to look like a crate of sparkling cider, and casually hauled it through the streets. Clever, convenient, and a party trick in itself—Shikamaru approved, giving them sequential high-fives before raising a glass to his girl across the courtyard.

Ino had led her to a yakitori table, and she was immediately surrounded by some of the world’s finest kunoichis. Hinata and Sakura brought over the grilling meat, Karui—who must have been in town for the conference, too—took care of the veggies, and Tenten delivered the all-important beer. Assorted plates of barbecue fodder and plastic cups before them, they were more than prepared to catch up, drink up, and chow down.

Over the foam of his beer, he couldn’t help but appreciate how she was swimming in the blazer he’d draped over her shoulders.

She gave him a little wave, and that was all the permission he needed to take a hefty swig. Kiba and Choji were the true geniuses, he decided. But it wasn’t just Team 10 and Kiba’s keg: despite the last-second notice, everyone had gone all out for his girl. Thanks to them, this was going better than he could have hoped.

As Temari was chatting with her girlfriends, Shikamaru walked with the beer smugglers towards the central fire pit, where Naruto, Shino, and Lee had set up camp.

“Shikamaru, Sai,” Choji sniggered, pausing before they got into earshot of the others, beckoning them closer conspiratorially. “So we’ve got this thing going.”

“Oooh, I forgot!” Kiba butted in, barking out a laugh. “It’s brilliant.”

“We’re calling it ‘Did You Hear Naruto Got Married?’: The Drinking Game.’”

It was Shikamaru’s turn to snicker. Oh, this was going to be good.

“So every time Naruto says something about Hinata or being married or in love or whatever,” Kiba explained, “you have to take a swig.”

“I like games,” Sai agreed happily.

“Everytime,” Kiba emphasized seriously. “Them’s the rules.”

Any idiot could see this was going to go sideways and fast, but Shikamaru just shook his head and let a stupid grin fall on his face.

–

And sure enough, they all would’ve gotten hammered off Naruto’s marital bliss…if Sai hadn’t eventually asked why Naruto himself wasn’t drinking every time the blonde started mooning over his wife. But as it stood, they were all pleasantly buzzed. Naruto—who was somehow closer to plastered than those actually playing the drinking game—had almost fallen out of his cushioned patio chair when Sai had burst the bubble. Lee had a proposed a toast to “YOOOOUTH…ful love!” and even Shino had chuckled behind his turtleneck.

I’ll have to thank Sai later, Shikamaru thought, chuckling to himself. Could’ve gotten troublesome otherwise.

From there, Shikamaru was content to slowly sip his drink and just enjoy the company. He could see Temari was enjoying herself, she didn’t need him attached to her hip. So he watched the evening play out from his overstuffed armchair, foot occasionally tapping to the summery, chill tunes Lee had put on. Lee, he noted, had really good taste in music.

Two beers later, the mountain of barbecue fare had diminished, the groups had dispersed and mixed, Tenten had changed her camera’s memory card at least twice, and everyone had paid their respects to the guest of honor.

By the time Naruto brought him another sudsy cup, Shikamaru looked up to find his girl standing before him, hands on hips, an eyebrow arched expectantly.

“Didn’t save the birthday girl a seat, huh?” she teased, a faint alcohol flush on her cheeks.

He grinned and patted his thigh. “There’s room for both of us.”

Her mouth fell open.

Oh, shit.

He’d just said that. Out loud. This blew right by simply putting his foot in his mouth! No, she was going to put his foot in his mouth! “Tema, I—“

His jacket flew from her shoulders and hit him square in the face.

Someone gasped from behind him.

‘Liquid courage’? More like ‘liquid stupid’ in my hands!

A punch was sure to follow. He braced for impact.

I should have known I’d find a way to screw up tonight—it was going too perfectly!

A second went by, then another, …but nothing happened. All the warning he had was a sweet smell on the crisp air, and then he felt the weight of something warm and toned on his lap.

Wait, really?!

Stunned out of terror, he yanked the blazer off his head, and, sure enough, there she was. Arms and legs crossed, lips pursed, and blushing like mad—but she was perched on his knee.

A few Awww’s rang out from around them.

It must have been the liquid stupid or maybe their friends’ encouragement, but he decided to push his luck a little further. Flinging his coat out like a matador’s muleta, he let it fall over her legs—he was nowhere near drunk enough to risk revealing a wardrobe malfunction—and he pulled her up into him.

She let out an indignant yelp and flailed in momentary surprise…but she stayed put.

“Idiot,” she grumbled, fidgeting with his blazer blanket.

Yet she rotated in his arms to cuddle into his chest, tucking her legs up under his coat.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot,” he laughed, tightening his arm around her bare shoulder. Apparently, beer turned him stupid…and really sappy. He was better off changing the subject. “You having fun?”

“Mhhmm.” She nodded against his shirt.

“Good.”

Basking in the glory of success, he ran his hand up and down her bare arm, keeping the chill off, and looked up to the cloudless night. Sitting there with his girl, fighting off a contented yawn, he realized he could get used to this. Maybe ‘Did You Hear Naruto Got Married?’: The Drinking Game’ was catching up to him in more ways than one….

A touch on his chest drew him back to the present.

“Shikamaru,” Temari murmured, tugging shyly at his dress shirt, “This is perfect. Thank you.”

Was she pulling at his shirt or his damn heart?? He could practically see it in her little hands! …And he knew he wasn’t getting it back.

Damn it, why am I so lame tonight??

Smiling despite himself, Shikamaru did the only thing he could: he tilted her chin up, thumb running along her jaw, holding her eyes for just a moment, …and stole a quick kiss.

Woops and catcalls and flashes exploded from all around them. 

The hell? he thought, startled out of their kiss. 

Temari almost jumped out of her skin when she looked up to see Tenten clicking away on her camera just a few feet away, but Shikamaru only grinned and hauled his girl into place for the picture. He was too damn happy to bother with the awkward, even when he realized all of them must have been watching his every move with Temari, ninjas lying in wait…. He chuckled and released his favorite blonde, who launched herself at Tenten to threaten her into handing over the camera.

“Teten, I swear I’ll—!”

Ino, socialite extraordinaire, stepped out of Sai’s arm to diffuse the situation.

“Presents!” she proclaimed loudly. Since Temari was conveniently already in the center of the party, she added, “Temari, stay right there!”

Ino’s order seemed to have startled the blushing birthday girl into obedience.

“You have to open Shikamaru’s last. Actually, open ours”—with a wink, Ino thumbed at Sai, who waved amiably—“after Shika’s! But the rest can go in any order.”

Tenten took advantage of her proximity. “Me first!” Beaming, she held up her camera. “My gift will be the prints, of course! Temari, they’re so cute, I swear!”

Tenten’s announcement was met with Aww’s…and few knowing smirks. She’d already captured some solid gold, and she was bound to get some more, if Kiba had anything to say about it.

Reluctantly, Temari acquiesced with a shrug, …one corner of her mouth barely rising. “Fine, fine. But for my eyes only.”

Next up was Shino, who emerged…from somewhere…to stand before Temari. He extended a small box.

Shit, it’s probably a live scorpion or something! 

Shikamaru leapt from his patio chair, preparing to weave a Shadow Possession and intercept the container. He wasn’t about to let Shino ruin her night with some creepy-crawly thing!

But Temari’s dark eyes glimmered with interest, and she shucked off the brown paper wrapping before Shikamaru could act.

Damn it, too late!

But to his surprise, she gave Shino a broad smile.

“Antheraea yamamai,” he declared proudly, erudite.

The evening crickets chirped their entomological approval…but no one else made a peep.

“Shino, c’mon, man!” Naruto whined good-naturedly, arm looped around Hinata. “Translate!”

“A silk moth,” he sniffed, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “It perished naturally, so there is no harm in appreciating its beauty behind glass.”

It was then Shikamaru realized that his desert girl wouldn’t have been fazed by a damn scorpion—or any other of Shino’s insects, probably—in the slightest. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried feebly to make like he’d lurched up for some reason other than saving Temari…from a bug.

“It’s lovely, Shino,” Temari said, holding up glass-top box for everyone to see her moth’s impressive wingspan. “Thank you.”

Sitting back down, Shikamaru had to admit it was pretty classy gift. Maybe I’ll go to Shino for next year….

From there, Kiba and Choji took credit for the ‘Konoha hospitality’—the keg—and Choji dragged Karui out by the hand.

“She made a chocolate cake for everyone! Trust me, you’re gonna love it. Sooo let’s hurry up with the presents, guys!”

“Yeah, his ‘taste test’ left me just enough batter for the cake!” Karui grinned and poked her boyfriend in the stomach.

Hinata rose to offer Temari a book on Konoha’s history and customs, stating with a smile, “From Naruto and me. Since, umm, your work brings you here so often, we hope Konoha becomes your home away from home.”

“’Home away from home,’ huh...?” Temari flipped through it with a sly smirk. “Thanks, Uzumakis.”

Shikamaru felt like he was missing something, but he wasn’t about that troublesome life.

“You’re already wearing my gift!” Sakura yelled from her post near Akamaru, sending over a wolf-whistle.

So that’s where she got the dress. If Shikamaru had been wearing a hat, he would’ve tipped it to Sakura; he made do with a grateful nod. Might have to send a thank-you note for the first and only time in my life…. He smirked.

“My gift will compliment Sakura’s!” Lee shouted with a thumbs-up, tossing her a small package. “What luck!”

A moment later, Temari held up a pair...of violet legwarmers. 

Somehow, she managed to keep a straight face—even as Lee lifted his pant leg in a wild kick to demonstrate just how versatile a garment legwarmers were—and thanked him, placing them with the rest of her bounty.

Shikamaru, on the other hand, had to pretend he’d choked on a nonexistent bite of beef. Tenten gave him a solid thwack on the back, but the reproachful look on her face told him she wasn’t particularly concerned about food being lodged in his throat.... 

But he's wearing legwarmers under slacks, Tenten! Shikamaru pled silently. 

Temari’s words, however, dissipated Tenten’s glare.

“Everyone, thank you.” Temari was looking down, suddenly shy again. “I’m really… I’m feeling the Konoha Hospitality, I guess!”

His girl looked so happy, just in time to unveil the cactus.

Choji was closest to the bench where Sai had left it. “I got it, Shikamaru,” he said and set it on the yakitori table nearest the birthday girl.

Temari raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend, fiddling with the note he’d slipped between the twine, but he just shrugged with a grin. She seemed so pleased with the rest of the night, it probably didn’t matter if his stupid plant didn’t wow her like Shino’s moth had.

“Read the card!” Naruto shouted, another beer in hand.

Shit.

He’d forgotten about that. And how was Naruto still observant with all the alcohol he’d knocked back?

“Uh, maybe not?” Shikamaru tried sheepishly.

Ino had told him to, but nobody else had gotten her a card. On top of that, she’d told him it would be ‘so, so, sooo cute’ to use a ‘term of endearment’ in it. Shikamaru grimaced. He hadn’t exactly planned on everyone hearing it...but maybe it wasn’t a big deal. They were at that point in their relationship, right? It wasn’t weird to call her a petname after a few months, right??

“Read iiiiiit!” Naruto bellowed.

“Alright, alright,” Temari laughed, either not hearing or simply ignoring Shikamaru. “Pipe down, blondie!” She cleared her throat and opened the simple Nara stationary. “’Happy birthday, babe!’” she quoted, smirking around babe. “’I’m a lucky man to have you in my life.’”

Hoots and Awwww’s echoed through the assembled ninja. A peach flush coloring her high cheekbones, his girl blew him a kiss with a wink. Lee clapped him on the back and sparkled a thumbs-up at him.

Shikamaru definitely hadn’t imagined Babe trying out her new petname…on herself—his ears were still burning to prove it—but he nodded in calculated appreciation:

Temari and the girls approved, and the guys were having fun with it. At his expense, sure, but fun nonetheless. He let out a sigh. Even if her brothers couldn’t be there, even if she was in town for work, even if he’d put it all off until the last possible moment… Temari was laughing and surrounded by friends. Was it too early to call the night a success?

Well played, Shikamaru. Best boyfriend ever, he congratulated himself with another satisfied nod and a swig of beer. “Careful unwrapping it, babe!” he called, letting out a smug chuckle after babe. He liked the sound of it.

She untied the twine holding the florist wrap together, peeled back the ruby plastic he’d so carefully arranged to spare her skin, and revealed the pretty plant he’d picked out just for her.

He swished his beer and waited for the sort of reactions all the other gifts had gotten.

But there were no girlish giggles, no excited coos. Even the legwarmers had gotten a warm reception, …but his plant couldn’t even get a cricket chirp?

And Temari… She was just staring down at the cactus, ominous in her silence. Her bangs were hiding her eyes; he couldn’t see her face.

Doesn’t she like it? he wondered nervously.

Then, all at once, static surprise gave way to dynamic reaction: Hinata fainted against Naruto with a squeak, her face beet-red. Sakura’s mouth fell open, and a The hell? slipped out. Karui was alternating between coughing up the drink she’d just inhaled…and snickering as Choji patted her back.

“Hina!” Naruto wailed, cradling his passed-out wife.

What’s happening?! Why are the girls freaking out, and why are they looking at the plant like that?? Shikamaru’s eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle it out through the alcohol haze. Temari’s skin was turning pink! Oh, no! Was it poisonous?! He sprang up, ready to slap the offending thing out of her hands. No, wait. I would have felt it earlier, and I checked the tag!

“Tem…ari?” he tried, no hint of smugness left in his voice. Sweat was pooling between his shoulder blades.

Temari didn’t respond, still gaping down at the prickly plant.

Where the hell had Ino gone?? She’d know what was happening, and she’d tell him!

By then, Kiba had eagerly sidled up to a cherry-red Sakura for an explanation. Shouldering his wife’s limp form, Naruto hurried to follow suit.

To his left, Tenten was pink in the ears, trying and failing to stifle her giggles with her hand while Lee begged her for enlightenment.  

As he tried to shake the truth out of his teammate, Lee voiced what every male in the place was wondering: “What!”—shake—“Is!”—shake—“Happening!” Shake.

The brunette only laughed harder.

Damn it! What is it?!

Sakura, however, finally found the words to describe the indescribable. Once the breathless secret left her sniggering lips and hit their eager ears, Kiba howled, a wolf at the moon, and Naruto boomed a guffaw, nearly losing his grip on Hinata.

What? No! It was a thoughtful gift—even Ino said so!!

He felt panic welling up in the pit of his stomach as his fingers dug into the wood of the nearest table.

What. The. Hell. Everything was perfect until the girls saw the stupid cactus!

Akamaru joined Naruto and Kiba’s barks of amusement.

Et tu, Akamaru? he thought dismally.

Without a word, a glance, or a discernable emotion, …Temari grabbed the nearest beer and sank it, downing it in one go.

Oh, no.

He didn’t need to be a ninja to sense the danger in the air.

Though on opposing sides of the courtyard, Sakura and Karui gave into fits of uncontrollable mirth at the same time, well past words.

Damn it, no help there. This is bad. This is so bad!

He turned to Choji, who—judging by the tears streaming down his face—had clearly been filled in by his girlfriend. …Yet all Choji could manage was to mouth Dude! through hoots.

Some ‘best friend’ you are!

Shikamaru gritted his teeth, nerves eating away at his composure.

“Guys, come on,” he begged.

At his pitiful plea, Kiba fell to the ground, gasping and rolling in delight. Naruto, on the other hand, retained just enough self-control to recline his fainted wife safely against Akamaru…before he completely lost it and doubled over with Kiba.

“Shika—haha! …Shikamaru!” Kiba rasped out from the grass. “You-you—haha!”

Spit it out, man, jeez!

Since breathing was too much for Kiba and Naruto, Shikamaru turned to Shino, who only shook his head and shrugged, sunglasses glinting in the lantern light. Beyond desperate now, Shikamaru turned to Sai, who just smiled placidly, happy to see his friends enjoying a joke…even if it flew miles above his head.

Temari’s hands clenched into tight little fists of rage, snapping the emptied plastic cup in half.

What did I do?!

“Beautiful!” Sai cheerfully announced Ino’s return, pulling out her chair.

Shikamaru did a full 360 and finally found the person who could clue him in. Lips freshly glossed, she must have just come back from the bathroom inside.

As Ino’s blue eyes scanned the scene, all she could manage was: “What…the hell?”

“Ino—somebody—please just tell me what I did!” Shikamaru shouted, nearing his wit’s end. But his request only sent a fresh wave of hysterics through the party.

At last, Ino was by his side, yanking him to her by the ear. “Shikamaru!” she screeched in a pitch high enough to shatter both eardrums and glass. “I told you to read the descriptions on the plants, you idiot!” she hissed through clenched, white teeth.

“But it’s not poisonous, I checked!” Shikamaru defended weakly.

At that moment, another woman recovered her verbal faculties.

It was Temari, growling low and fearsome: “Shikamaru…”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

“Hanakotoba, moron! I told you some flowers have special meanings!” Ino ground out mournfully. “It says it right there on the tag.”

“Says what?!” Shikamaru demanded in a moan, drowning in trepidation.

He heard a sudden clickclickclick and dimly realized Tenten had recovered enough to start snapping photos through the giggles, forever preserving his abject horror. To her side, Lee’s complexion had changed to match the green of his dress shirt, clearly informed and clearly scandalized.

“It’s a plant! What the hell can it ‘say’ that’s so terrible?!”

It was then that Sakura regained the ability to string together a sentence: “Shikamaru, you-you gave her a—!”

Kiba’s snort from the ground, however, cut her off and sent her stumbling back into giggles.

So Kiba took it upon himself to fill in the blank, a roar of rapturous merriment:

“A sex cactus!” He choked on another howl of laughter, eyes tearing up in sheer joy, unable to believe the words as they left his mouth. “Y-you gave her a fucking sex cactus, man!” he wheezed.

Convulsions took him once more, his fists beating the blameless grass flat.

“The fuck?” Shikamaru breathed, brain backflipping in despair.

Someone must have spiked the beer, he was tripping. That was the only explanation for what he’d just witnessed.

“Damn it, Shikamaru!” Naruto yowled before joining Kiba in breathless grass-slapping. “At her birthday party, too?! She’s…she’s going to end you, bro!”

Shikamaru couldn’t take it anymore. High or not, this obviously wasn’t something he was capable of decoding! He lunged at Ino, hands grasping her shoulders like a lifeline.

“Ino, please!”

She shook her head sorrowfully. “Saboten, flowering cacti, are given as sexual gestures! Like, with that”—pointing with one hand, she squished up his cheeks in the other to wrench his head back toward Temari…and the obscene cactus—“you’re telling Temari—and anyone here with eyes and half a brain!—that you want her.”

“Whuh? Nwoh!” Even with Ino’s fingers distorting his words, he could hear the shrill of panic in them.

Ino released his face to massage her brow, wholly disappointed in his stupidity.

No longer obstructed, his voice was no less hysterical: “But that’s not a thing! How can that be a thing if only girls know about it?!”

Another reverberation of laughter.

Ino just groaned and face-palmed.

Shikamaru dared to glance back at Temari’s face, imploring. “Tema… I… I…!”

He couldn’t make the words happen. What could he say to erase a screw-up of these proportions?! They’d only been together for a few months—a few long-distance months! They hadn’t had the chance to get anywhere close to sex—they hadn’t even made out yet! Tonight had been the most physical they’d ever been!!

And I just propositioned her…for birthday sex…with a cactus…in front of half the village?!

His fingers rose to rake at his scalp, eyes widening in true realization.

“Oh,” Temari began darkly, taking a predatory step toward him, fingers tightening around the rim of the vulgar cactus’s pot, “it’s a thing, babe.”

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Oh no.

There was fury flaming in her eyes.

Oh no.

He felt his stomach fall through the earth’s crust: she picked up the indecent cactus.

Oh no!

He felt his stomach hit the earth’s core and combust: she was coming at him with the cactus.

OH NO.

This was it. He was a dead man. He was going to die a virgin…because his girlfriend was going to eviscerate him with a plant. A spiky, evil plant.

But then another thought hit him. A thought even more horrific than the obituary reading, ‘Cause of death: proposition by cactus’:

She’s going to break up with me—she’s never going to speak to me again!

Just then, Ino bravely flung herself between him and the wrath of his sex-cactus-wielding girlfriend.

“He didn’t mean anything by it, Temari! Your boyfriend’s just a moron and didn’t”—she turned to give him the full force of her glare—“read the damn tags like I told him to, so he had no idea! He just wanted to give you something pretty from Suna, you know, to be sweet. Since you had to spend your birthday away from home and all.”

Temari’s glower softened, but only slightly, the sex cactus still firmly in her grasp.

Laughing to herself, Ino continued in practiced sarcasm: “Of course, I figured he’d get you a tiny desert rose or a little echeveria. You know, something you could actually take with you after the conference.” She turned to scowl at Shikamaru again. “I mean, really. You expect her to take a cactus with her on the three-day hike back to Suna?”

Shikamaru moaned, the heat of shame was melting him into the grass. “Temari, I’m so so—“

Realizing she had accidentally fanned the flames, Ino cut him off: “I know! Why don’t you open your present from Sai and me? I can guarantee it’s better than Shikamaru’s.” She chirped out cheerfully, “Sai, darling!”

Sai materialized from the darkness, gift bag in hand, and smiled serenely.  

“Happy birthday, Temari!” he remarked and extended the bag, blissfully unaware of the murderous tension surrounding him.

Slightly stupefied, Temari lowered the x-rated cactus to the table at her side, and Shikamaru let out a quiet, shaky breath.

Ino, grab it while you can! He glanced frantically at his teammate, begging her to hear his thoughts, but she was focused on Temari.

Peering around Ino, he could see Temari raise an eyebrow.

As she accepted the proffered gift bag and parted the tissue paper, revulsion spread across her face. “Another one?!” She dropped the bag to the table with the rejected, dirty cactus in a heavy thud.

Ino, what the hell?!

“No, no…” Ino grinned, eyes twinkling gleefully back at Shikamaru. “You see, this isn’t traditional hanakotoba….”

Genius intellect or not, this was beyond Shikamaru’s understanding. How could he have foreseen any of this? All he knew was it was a miracle that he didn’t have a hundred new piercings to accent the ones in his ears. Hell, it was miraculous he still had a head on his shoulders! No... The true wonder was that Temari hadn’t shouted “We’re done!” and stormed off ages ago. He’d rather Temari skewer him with the stupid, debauched cactus and throw him on the yakitori….

Curiosity got the better of her, and Temari reached in. She slowly, gingerly retracted her hand, revealing something green and plant-y.

What is that thing?

Between Temari’s forefinger and thumb hung a frilled stalk of leaves…attached to a spiked, oblong fruit. She lifted her prize for all to see. 

Ire and mortification forgotten—perhaps replaced with utter confusion—his girl’s black-emerald eyes met Ino’s.

“And what, exactly, are you trying to say with a pineapple?”

The question was saturated in sarcasm, but Shikamaru detected the slightest hint of playfulness coloring Temari’s words. He felt his lifespan slowly extending, not even noticing as Ino attained the sweet vengeance she’d promised….

“Oh, it’s simple…. Don’t you see it?” Ino waved a dainty hand, only just able maintain her casual façade, brimming with barely suppressed anticipation. “It’s Shikamaru, of course!”

It took only a second for the joke to hit, before the outburst of obnoxious, tipsy titters echoed through the night. 

Ino nodded to herself, clearly satisfied with her delivery.

A fruit? Shikamaru thought dumbly, genius brain fogged with beer and total humiliation. She named a fruit after me?

“It-it’s perfect!” Naruto choked out from the lawn. He ripped up a handful of grass—dirt clods, roots, and all—and held it to Kiba’s head, miming...a ponytail.

Then a sidesplitting cackle rang out over the din. It was Shino, he’d finally cracked.

I am…a pineapple?

If Shikamaru had any blood left elsewhere in his circulatory system, it joined the rest in his face then.

Temari bit down on her lip, face twitching slightly. She closed one eye and slowly raised the fruit until it was perfectly parallel with her distraught boyfriend…and his pineapple-shaped head. Her teeth sunk in further. Her hand quaked, ...then her whole body.

Aliens had failed to kill Naruto, …yet Shikamaru was beginning to think the Child of Prophecy would laugh himself to death before the night was over.

“I chose a really green one, so it should be perfectly ripe by the time you have to head home,” Ino piped with yet another wink. “Figured a memento would keep you from missing him too much on the road!”

That was it. It finally happened. 

Temari laughed. 

And it wasn’t a snigger or a chuckle. Oh, no. It was a full-blown belly laugh. It bent her spine and sent the Shikafruit bouncing to the ground.

“Careful, you’re going to bruise him!” Choji roared, fueling the chorus of guffaws.

Shikamaru was too relieved to notice the embarrassment. Temari was laughing, and she couldn’t hate him if she was laughing! Hell, he’d answer to ‘Kiwi’ if that meant she’d forgive him! The corners of his lips started to turn upward.

From the corner of his eye, Shikamaru could see Lee was crying tears of youthful jubilation, and Hinata had finally awoken to Akamaru licking her face, blinking slowly.

About damn time for someone else to be the clueless one, he thought dimly.

Temari straightened halfway and wiped at her eyes, gasping out, “G-get over here, idiot!”

Shikamaru had already accepted that he had no retort, no defense. It was probably better to just get it over with, so he did as she commanded and loped over.

“Temari, I’m so sorry! I—“

She slapped him upside the head, latched onto his collar, yanked him close…and kissed him.

He had not seen that coming. He’d expected—at minimum—a bloody nose or Kamatari to join the party…. But this…

Just as he realized what was happening, just as his hands rose to cup her face, …she leaned back.

“No more plants,” she deadpanned under the catcalls, fingers tightening menacingly in his shirt, ocean-blue eyes glaring up into his.

“Never again,” he vowed in a murmur, trailing a set of knuckles down her flushed neck.

“Good!” she huffed, releasing him and swatting his hands off her skin. “Now hand me my pineapple.”

Finally, it was Shikamaru’s turn to laugh: “Yes, ma’am!”

Shaking his head, he stooped to retrieve his stand-in. Troublesome woman… he thought, placing it in her expectant hands.

He realized then that they were standing in the middle of the uproarious group—they were the literal center of attention—and he decided to give in to the liquid stupid just one more time.

“Alright,” he grumbled, face caught between a frown and a smirk, “you’re coming with me.” It’s not like I can get into any more trouble, right? I mean, I set the bar pretty damn high….

Before she knew what was happening, he had her scooped up in his arms, stupid pineapple and all. Careful to hold the hem of her dress in place, he carried his indignant girlfriend back to the abandoned armchair and sank into it.

Temari punched him in the shoulder but couldn’t keep a scowl in place…and collapsed into giggles.

“Okay, show’s over, folks! Someone cut the damn cake!” he announced, leaning one elbow against the armrest and finally allowing himself the solace of a nice face-palm. There was only so much humiliation a guy could take in one night, and he was never going to live this down—this was the stuff of legend around here!

Once she caught her breath, his girl scooted herself from his lap and up to the open armrest. Reclining against the backrest, she crossed her legs...and extended them to the opposite side, one foot dangling. 

Peeking out between his fingers, there was a mile and a half of leg stretched out before him….

NopeNopeNope! he chided. Look alive, idiot! You’re living on borrowed time as it is!

He jerked his chin up…and found her smiling wickedly down at him.

It was a devious purr: “Attaboy…”

Fear slapped his face the in the opposite direction, eyes wide and cheeks flaming.

ShitShitShit!

“Birthday girl needs some cake, I said!” he crowed to no one and everyone.

“Chill, Shikamaru,” Ino teased, already on the move. “We’re on it.”

Temari flicked his ear but draped her arm over his shoulders. “What am I going to do with you?”

Moping and mortified, Shikamaru’s right hand returned to shield his burning face, while his left slid around Temari’s waist.

Then—as if the heavens had decided to prove to Shikamaru he wasn’t the only one capable of humiliating himself that night!—Sai opened his mouth:

“Beautiful,” Sai inquired of the woman in charge of dessert, “when would you like a cactus? Perhaps there’s a hanakotoba book you c—”

“Oh, Sai…” Ino groaned, flushing crimson, and pulled his wrist.

Shikamaru allowed himself one snicker, but just one. He figured suffering through her stupid pineapple revenge had earned him that much.

“We’ll talk about this later, handsome,” Ino assured, kissing Sai’s palm. “Now let’s shut them up with sugar before some other calamity happens out here!”

Then, only a few steps closer to Karui and the cake, she grumbled, “Well, your odds are a hell of a lot better than Shikamaru’s are right now….”

“Okay!” Sai concurred agreeably.

Temari’s laughter vibrated through her body directly into his.

Yup, Shikamaru concluded, the universe definitely had it out for him….

As he tried to disappear into the cushions, he heard something interesting off to the side.    

“Hey, future hokage,” Sakura started, offering Naruto a hand off the ground. “Do you believe me now?”

The terrifying look in her seafoam eyes, the sarcasm in her voice—maybe the universe had moved on to another target, after all!

“Believe what, Sakura-chan?” Naruto squeaked out, one hand trapped in her vicelike grip, the other scratching nervously at his head.

“Wasn’t I just saying the Academy needs to teach cultural practices—like hanakotoba!—to all students, not just the future-kunoichis? Just think, we could have avoided this whole idiotic display…if”—her eyes blazed dangerously, her deathgrip tightened—“the curriculum were...corrected.”

Sheepishly, Shikamaru’s third favorite blonde gave the only response he could:

“You right.”

Against his better judgement, Shikamaru decided to run with Sakura’s reasoning, pivoting his head towards his girl with a smirk.

“See, Temari? It’s not my fa—“

Another slap upside the head cut him off. “Don’t even try, pineapple,” she scoffed.

Birthdays, women… They were all so troublesome.

...But maybe he liked a little trouble?

–

The Chunin Exams were planned, the conference was over, the sun was only just starting to rise…and Temari was standing at the village gate, about to depart for Suna.

“Guess you’re gonna tell the kazekage and Kankuro about your birthday, huh?” Shikamaru asked, hands stuffed in his pockets, absently kicking at a rock.

The days after her dinner party had gone by smoothly and without incident, but now that she was leaving….

“What, and start an international incident? Nah.” She winked. “They’re definitely getting a slice of Ino’s pineapple, though—don’t get too many of these babies in the desert!” Grinning wide, she patted the bottom of her overstuffed backpack. “Besides…” She lowered her voice, narrowed her eyes, “I’m sure they’ll hear all about your exploits soon enough on their own.” She shrugged theatrically. “Shame your present couldn’t travel, huh? Then I could’ve shown them how it all began….”

“Yeah, yeah…” Shikamaru pouted and scratched the back of his head, knowing he’d be catching shit for her birthday for the next decade or two. From Temari, from Konoha, from Suna… Hell, even from Kumo since Karui was there!

“Oh, don’t be such a baby! And speaking of my present... It better still be alive the next time I’m in town!” she snarked. “Anyways, I’ve got something to show you before I hit the road.”

She smiled that wicked smile of hers as the ascent of the morning sun cast a golden halo around her face. It made for a surreal combination….

“Tenten brought you the prints, didn’t she?” he groaned, throwing out an unimpressed hand. Why, Tenten, why?

“Sharp as ever.”

She withdrew a thick envelope from her weapons pouch and slapped the first two rectangles into his hand, one on top of the other.

“We don’t have time to go through all of them—whether you like it or not, we’re going to someday!—but these two are my favorites.”

Of course she’d organized them by favorites. No doubt, in order of how stupid he looked. Grudgingly, Shikamaru looked down. There was no point trying to avoid it, no matter how much he might have wished to forgo reliving his disgrace….

“First, we have the ‘Before.’ Like Tenten’s caption?”

Shikamaru had to smirk, he couldn’t help it. The ‘Before’ showed him grinning big with his arms wrapped securely around a pink and pouting Temari. Her tanned legs were tangled up in his blazer as she fought to escape his grip…and destroy the camera.

Beautiful, he thought, and deadly.

Underneath the photo, Tenten’s neat handwriting read:

‘Yeah, I’m the man.’

Shikamaru nodded in appreciation. He had to agree with Tenten’s assessment: he sure as hell looked the part. He slid an arm around Temari’s shoulders and leaned in to admire his handiwork. Even knowing what the next picture would show, he had to tease her: “Look what one little kiss did to you, you’re all flustered and sulky!”

Not even bothering to glare at him, she deadpanned: “You know you’re about to eat those words, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, sullen again. “I know….”

“Let’s take a look at the ‘Post-Cactus’ photo, shall we?”

Gleefully, she brought forth the monument to his eternal shame.

He wasn’t mentally prepared to look at the actual image yet, so his eyes fell on Tenten’s caption:

‘The Queen and her Pineapples’

Yup, he conceded, that sounds about right.

“So what do you think, Shikamaru?” she goaded, looking up at him so sweetly. “Personally, I think it might be Tenten’s magnum opus. I just don’t think she can top it!”

Oh, grow a pair, he scolded himself.

Grumbling and fighting off a blush, he finally looked at the image. They were in that armchair again but…

Whoa.

Temari looked like a goddess gracing a mortal with her presence. She was smiling triumphantly in the firelight, showing off her perfect teeth. Perched elegantly on the armrest, she had her long legs crossed demurely.…

Hello.

And he’d thought they’d looked good in the first photo! He was afraid she’d somehow catch him staring like a perv, so he tore his eyes away and finally faced the first jab to his ego. Temari had one hand proudly supporting that menace of a cactus in her lap. The second jab, of course, was dangling the damned pineapple above his hunched shoulder…for comparison. 

He sighed. She looked amazing…and then there was him.

He, a mere mortal, was slouched over, hiding his red face in his hand. Though only a grimace and a single eye were visible, it was more than clear he was glowering at his fruit look-alike.

He’d seen enough. He closed his eyes, shaking his head with a reluctant grin.

If I didn’t have that arm around her, I’d look one-hundred percent whipped…instead of, ya know, just ninety….

He reopened his eyes at the sound of Temari’s voice.

“I almost forgot. Tenten left a little note with the pictures,” Temari went on, voice noticeably softer.

Evidently, she’d decided she’d tortured him enough for one trip.

“Look, everyone signed it.”

She withdrew a slip of paper from the envelope and unfolded it for his eyes:

‘We’re all so sorry about the other night, Temari! We weren’t laughing at you, just at your boo! You guys are ~perfect~ together and all of us ship you so much!! Please don’t be mad. We love you. Come back soon.’

Smiling faintly, she carefully folded it up, slipped it in the envelope, and stowed it safely in her pouch.

Shikamaru rubbed her shoulder, unsure of what to say.

Even though they literally cackled at his misery…documented it in photos…and would never, ever let him forget it… He had the best friends around. 

And they’d become her friends, too.

Damn it, she’s turning me into such a sap!

As if on cue, it finally hit him:

There was no way all their friends just happened to have Temari’s birthday off! And the gifts they’d supposedly gotten or baked or whatever with one day’s notice…!

Ino and Choji… He shook his head with a grin. And probably Sakura, too.

They must have known he’d eventually get his act together and had just planned around it!

“Anyways,” Temari continued, “those two are for you to keep, but don’t worry: I have my own copies.” She snatched the pictures from his hand and slowly unzipped his vest. Slipping them into the mesh of his undershirt, she whispered, “Keep these close to your heart, babe.” She gave his chest a firm pat, clearly recalling how much she loved to torture him.

He was the least manly shade of magenta, he was sure of it. Troublesome woman…

Noting the sun’s position in the sky, she sighed, resigned, and looked away. “I have to get going.”

“Yeah, okay,” he frowned. 

One week was only enough to make him miss her. At least they’d both be in Suna at the same time next month.

“But before I go, I have a favor to ask, Shikamaru….”

Her voice had brightened, it sounded…dangerous. Her stormy-hued eyes were wide with contrived innocence, looking up at him so fondly.

Shikamaru stiffened. He knew the signs, he just didn’t know what was coming.

Temari leaned into him. Standing on pointed toes to reach his ear, as if to whisper sweet-nothings, she placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Kill my sex cactus,” she threatened in a honeyed coo, “and I’ll kill you.” With a firm pat on the cheek and a kiss on his lips, she turned on her heel. “Bye, boyfriend!”

As his hand rose to where hers had been, as he watched her stride off toward the desert, a chill ran down his spine. 

Damn, his girlfriend was scary.

Birthdays, man! So troublesome! ;)

🌵 Sooo this was my first time writing Temari or Shikamaru...or ShikaTema...ever! And fluff is new for me, since my default setting is dark and twisty…. I blame the sangria that 💯 fueled this marathon of a speedwrite. 🍷

🌵 I tried really hard to do them justice, and I hope this turned out okay!! If you liked it please let me know! ‘Cause that reblog / comment button is actually the “validate button.” ♥ Thank you for reading.

🌵 I hope to write a very NSFW continuation of this, also for Temari Week / Month. Let’s just say Shika manages not to kill the birthday sex cactus.... 🎂

🌵 Might continue this fic if there's interest! Beyond the smutty/fluffy Part II, mean. I do have several ideas! Might also be tempted into a possible SaiIno spinoff...?

🌵 Find my other fics on FF.net here; I write mainly SasuSaku + ItaSaku.

🍍 Shout out to @toondoon1010​, @angrypisces​, @thepiestperson for their support! Thanks, guys! ♥

–

XOXO

Endoh

🌵🍍🌵 UPDATE 11/16/18: NSFW SEQUEL COMING FOR SHIKAMARU WEEK 2019! 🌵🍍🌵

[impracticaldemon]

Nalu Fluff Week 2017: Within the Law, Chapter 1

fanfiction by impracticaldemon Words: ~2500 | Also available on FFnet and AO3

Author's Note:

Once again, I'm too behind on writing to be able to complete all the prompts for this ship week, but I did want to contribute at least a little!

The main prompt for this story is "Rain" (Day 2). I am also throwing in "Vacation" converted to "Work" (Day 3), and a smidgen of "Fashion" (Day 4). I haven't yet decided what else I may do for this ship week but you can probably look for a couple more pieces. Please remember: "a fanfiction author is never late, nor is she early, she publishes precisely when she means to." Thank you, Gandalf (and Tolkien, I suppose).

I hope that you enjoy the following shenanigans!

Chapter 1 ~ Sunshine in the Rain

Law school was tough—it turned out that Professor Porlyusica's class on Trusts was just as bad as they'd told her—but this was infinitely worse. Here she was in downtown Magnolia, wearing her best—and currently only—suit, a tailored white blouse, sheer nylons and conservative dark heels. And she was lost. Not very lost, just momentarily stymied. Any one of the three mega-towers in with entrances onto the plaza looked like it could house the prestigious Makarov & Vermilion law firm that had granted her this precious and not-to-be-missed interview for a summer student's position.

Unfortunately, a small contretemps at a subway turnstile involving a little white dog, an oddly bluish-grey cat with a green bandanna for a collar, and a guy rocking a great suit and neon pink hair, had caused Lucy to drop the paper with the firm's street address. The guy had been apologetic, sort of—he'd viewed the whole thing as more funny than serious. Then he'd told the animals to meet him at the 'usual place' and off they'd trotted without further fuss. It had been a little weird. The man looked like he worked at some high-powered job—Lucy had assumed that the animals weren't his.

"Don't worry," pink-hair-great-suit had told her, "you didn't hurt Happy or Plue."

That hadn't been Lucy biggest concern, but she'd murmured something appropriate and gotten a wide grin in return. She'd even returned the guy's wave as he rushed off—though whether to his job or to rendez-vous with his pets was unclear. He wasn't to be seen getting on the subway, in any event.

"There's a map in the lobby if you need one," said a voice behind her just then, making her jump.

"Um, yes, thank you. I guess I'll just go take a look." In fact, Lucy was having a tough time convincing herself to go into any of the buildings. Unfortunately, the person behind her probably worked in one of the towers and would find it really strange if she just went on standing rooted to the pavement.

"Oh hey! I just realized it's you! Sorry again about earlier…"

Great. It was the pink-haired guy who'd seen her almost fall on her butt in the subway station. He had a nice voice, Lucy thought—not too light, but bright and cheerful without being sharp or nasal. A half-turn confirmed her first impression of the suit. It fit him too well not to have been either custom-made or at least tailored by somebody who knew exactly how to accommodate square shoulders, a trim waist and lean, narrow hips. Okay, just stop that right now.

Lucy shook her head at herself; it was really rare for her to notice somebody's looks that much before getting to know them. Mostly because she made a point of not noticing—man, woman, whatever… nobody and nothing was going to get in the way of proving to her dad that she didn't need his money, his connections, or him in order to be successful at what she wanted out of life. His comment had been dismissive, as usual: "Lucy, I've got no problem with paying for law school, but remember that Heartfilias hire lawyers—we don't become lawyers."

He didn't understand that once she'd learned all the tricks of the trade from the pros, she was going to turn around and use them working for the people who really needed lawyers—small businesses, new entrepreneurs, creative people with a dream… Her family's company swallowed them up and spat them out because they couldn't afford a professional who could read the footnotes to the fine print.

There was a polite cough, and the man beside her surprised Lucy by saying, "You're looking for Fairy Tail, right?"

"What—well… yes, actually. And you are?" Lucy waited politely for the stranger to respond. She was suddenly on high alert. Only lawyers called M&V 'Fairy Tail'. (Of course, they were probably the only ones who cared, but still… it was just one of those things that you learned: the names of the judges of the Supreme Court, the fact that most modern consumer protection law could be traced back to tainted ginger beer, and the real name of M&V.)

"Me? Oh right—I was in a rush before—Natsu Dragneel." He held out a strong, blunt-fingered hand and smiled encouragingly.

That's one hell of a smile, thought Lucy, trying not to stare. It really stood out in his tanned, olive-toned face. Fortunately, she was in interview mode and she automatically shook his hand—warm, but pleasantly dry—and responded: "Lucy Heartfilia. And my interview's in ten minutes, so…"

"Oh that's right!" Natsu forgot to let go of her hand, and Lucy eyed him with a sinking suspicion that she wasn't going to like what she heard next. "You're the one all the fuss is about." He held up the bag he had in one hand. "Special treats for the meeting—um, interview. They're pretty excited about having you join the firm."

"Because of the connection to Heartfilia Enterprises?" asked Lucy bluntly.

"Well, yeah… sort of?" Natsu looked puzzled, and then realized that he was still holding Lucy's hand. He returned it to her with a final squeeze and without any noticeable embarrassment.

Lucy tried to swallow her disappointment. They were giving her this interview because of her family connections, not because of all her hard work over the last year and a half. As if in response to her suddenly dark mood, the early spring sunshine was blotted out by a large, heavy-looking cloud. It reminded Lucy of a star destroyer from Star Wars—and every bit as ominous as one of those gigantic, triangular ships had ever looked to a fleeing Rebel cruiser. A drop hit the tip of Lucy's nose and a change in the breeze brought the smell of incipient rain. Petrichor, thought Lucy. The smell of rain—though really it's the smell of plants getting ready for rain.

"I really should get going—" Lucy tried again.

"You know, that cloud looks exactly like a Star Wars battle ship—a star destroyer." Natsu was now staring up at the cloud above them. Then he looked down at Lucy and blinked. "Uh, sorry… old sci-fi stuff is a big hobby for me."

"Yeah?" Lucy perked up a little. She was trying not to think about the umbrella she'd left at home because it had been so sunny earlier. Another drop hit her and she noticed that the plaza was emptying fast.

"Oh, sure! How about you?"

Lucy didn't know quite what to say. Natsu—because 'Mr. Dragneel' didn't suit him in the slightest—seemed perfectly prepared to stand there and chat, while the heavens were clearly getting ready for the opening act of what now looked like a major storm. She shouldn't have skipped the weather report this morning.

"Well, actually, um, Natsu—I mean, yes I like some of the old TV shows and movies too, but—"

Lucy was forcibly interrupted by a combination of drenching rain and Natsu grabbing her hand and dragging her off at a sprint, oblivious to her heels and demure-but-narrow business skirt. Apparently she should have acted on her instincts sooner and gotten under shelter right away. She would have had to forcibly ditch her new acquaintance, however.

Moments later, they stood panting in the lobby of the smallest of the office towers—or rather, Lucy stood panting while her companion went back to the door to look anxiously out at the rain.

"You know," he said over his shoulder to Lucy, "you really should've come in out of the rain before it started. Couldn't you smell it?"

Lucy finally snapped. To heck with trying to be polite!

"Yes, I could smell it, Mr. Dragneel, but every time I tried to get you to move, you just, just ignored me!"

There was a pause while Natsu processed Lucy's irritation. Then—why was she not surprised?—he grinned, and used his hands to comb some of the water out of his cotton candy hair. The result was a spiky, yet ridiculously perfect mess.

"Yeah, I guess I might have—I was keeping an eye out for Happy and Plue. Sorry about that. No harm done though, right? I mean, at least you're in the right building now, and it's just rain." He caught Lucy's expression and laughed sheepishly. "Well, yeah, okay a lot of rain. Heavy rain, you might say. But you look fine, really."

Lucy decided that they had bonded enough over the star destroyer cloud for her to get out her compact and do a quick check of her face and hair in front of him—something that normally she would never do. Thankfully, she did look okay, courtesy of a well-pinned bun and minimal, but expensive, cosmetics. On the other hand... She barely repressed a yelp at the jagged tear in her stocking. She restrained herself from shaking Natsu for having dragged her along at such a pace, and tried to make him pay attention to her anxiety over the time.

"Mr. Dragneel—Natsu. I would like to be on time for my appointment. I have three minutes to get there. Your pets appear to be quite good at looking after themselves. I expect that they are waiting out the rain under cover somewhere. Please tell me where to go."

With an abrupt change of demeanor, Natsu gave her a quick nod.

"You're right, my bad. It's just that I'm watching Plue for a friend, and I kind of had to sneak away from work to let him out for a bit and, well—come with me."

With impeccable manners, he swept her towards a bank of lifts, waving at a sleepy-looking security guard whom Lucy hadn't even noticed. Lucy thought she saw a look of apprehension flit across Natsu's face as the lift doors closed behind them and he selected one of the upper floors. What was that about?

When they stepped out at the thirty-second floor, scant seconds later, Natsu turned and leaned heavily against the marble-faced wall. Despite now being extremely worried about the time—even to the exclusion of fretting over her torn stocking—Lucy paused to see if she could help. The rain was now pounding against the windows, all but drowning out the inevitable soft music of the floor's tastefully neutral lobby area.

"Um, Natsu?" Only years of controlling her anxiety around her father allowed Lucy to ignore her damp, less-than-pristine appearance, the fact that she was late for an interview for her dream job, and the way that the storm outside was competing with Elton John for her attention. (Why Elton John? And why the Musack version? Did it really need to be even slower and sappier than it already was? Plus, the song was older than she was and she probably knew it better than Elton at this point, courtesy of a thousand upscale office tower lobbies just like this one.)

"… Sorry…" Natsu looked positively ill. He waved a hand at her feebly. "… 'S'why I usually take the stairs."

"To the thirty-second floor?!" asked Lucy, appalled. Then again, he did seem to be in very good shape. Maybe this was why.

"Oh, don't worry about Natsu, Ms. Heartfilia," said a distinctly amused male voice from behind her. "He's terrible with elevators. And cars. And boats, trains, trams, pony-wagons, children's pedal toys—"

"Shut up, Gray," growled Natsu. His voice was still distinctly rough around the edges.

The man who had come into the lobby looked to be about Natsu's age—maybe a year or two older than Lucy. She was surprised that he wasn't wearing his suit jacket, since most city lawyers she'd met over the years wouldn't leave their office without one. Still, the icy blue tones of his slim-fit shirt worked just fine with his dark hair and eyes. Again with the personal appearances, she sighed. What is with me today?

"Are you really going to be alright, Natsu?" For some reason, Lucy found that she already missed the pink-haired guy's slightly overwhelming smile.

"Yeah," said Natsu. This time he managed a slightly happier expression.

"Yeah, he's okay, I promise," said his colleague, at almost exactly the same time. He still looked like he was laughing at Natsu, but his tone indicated that he had answered seriously. "I'm Gray, by the way—Gray Fullbuster. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Heartfilia."

They shook hands, and Lucy found Gray's grip to be firm and dry like Natsu's—but cool instead of warm. It was an odd sensation, in fact.

"Lucy's fine, Mr. Fullbuster."

"Sure—just call me Gray, then. I hope Natsu met you like he was supposed to? We tend to find people standing outside in the plaza looking confused… Anyway, Natsu volunteered to leave early to find you, so you could get inside before the rain hit." Gray quirked an eyebrow, somehow sensing that something was up. "Was there a problem?"

Lucy froze. He was supposed to meet me and bring me straight here? Her mind quickly ran through images of the collision with Plue and Happy at the turnstile, followed by Natsu running off to somewhere while she boarded the subway, followed by Natsu looking for his pets while the clouds rolled in… and then dragging her willy-nilly into the building after the downpour started. She glanced out the window at the wind-lashed rain and then momentarily at Natsu, who was now leaning more casually against the wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and an irrepressible smile at the corners of his lips.

"Actually, everything was just fine," said Lucy, lying through her teeth for no discernible reason.

Natsu looked surprised and then grinned. Lucy blinked. How did he do that? For just a moment, it was as if the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. I'm living a cliché, she thought, rolling her eyes at her own sentimentality. She decided to make a start on appearing professional.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she told Gray. She'd just have to ignore the stocking.

"I'm good to go, too," added Natsu.

Lucy looked between them in surprise. She hadn't expected a job interview to include more than one junior associate, and Natsu and Gray just couldn't be that long out of law school. Gray's lips quirked.

"We've been working here for years, Lucy—only our degrees are kind of new. I'm the head of our forensic law and tax services, and your cover letter mentioned you had some interest in learning current methods for tracking multi-layered companies and complex transactions." Gray paused, then shook his head. "And Pinky over there"—he ignored an obviously automatic "hey" from Natsu—"believe it or not, is the head of our corporate and securities law group. Basically, if you're serious about the kind of law you have in mind, you'll be working with us—mostly Natsu."

Natsu finally pried himself off the wall. With a total disregard for personal boundaries, he walked over and gave Lucy a short, one-armed hug.

"It'll be great!" he assured her, beaming.

Lucy just nodded. But when she sat down for her actual interview, which was conducted by the famous Makarov Dreyar himself and his equally well-known protégée, Erza Scarlet, her heart wasn't hammering against her ribs the way it usually did during important interviews. Even her stomach butterflies had faded substantially. Strangest of all, the storm had abruptly blown itself out, and the sun was shining. All she needed was twittering bluebirds to complete the scene.

Oh well, Lucy thought, resigned. At least it's a good cliché.

[END]

A/Note: Thanks for reading! All comments and reviews are much appreciated, as are likes, kudos, reblogs and whatever other fine method of communication is provided by your platform of choice.

Tags: @shell-senji @nalufever @eliz1369 @unashamed-shipper @naluloverforever @ftfanfics @fic-writer-appreciation @canadiangaap @very-x-vice @celestialgeekmage @miss-zei @sanguine-fairy @kazama-hime @sabinasanfanfic  @hakusaitosan @moon-faced-pear-shaped @devlin7

[enziroth]

Black and White Pt 6

Did you forget this AU existed? Because my will to write certainly did.  Now with 20% more graphic situations!

Lunch was possibly the most bland and boring meal he'd ever had.

"This is bullshit," he said to no one in particular, eyeing the food trays the guards had brought to his cellmates. Their food wasn't anything special, just sandwiches made with plain cheese and some unidentifiable kind of meat, but at least it was food.

Apparently, Law's idea of "food" consisted of a plate of vegetables and the same tasteless broth he'd had yesterday. If he ever had to pick his idea of the worst meal ever, this would be it, just barely beating out "crumbled rocks" and "actual dog shit".

Kid picked up a spindly green stick and dangled it between two fingers, frowning. What the fuck was this? Celery? He hadn't touched celery since Killer went on a health kick a while ago, and he'd thrown a bunch of the stuff at his second-in-command for trying to feed it to him.

The only thing that looked mildly edible on the tray were two little white pills, probably painkillers. He took those and downed the water he'd been given, wincing at the brackish taste.

Vegetables. And broth. He swirled his finger in the bowl. It wasn't even warm.

He slid a glance at his third cellmate, who was eating his meal with a stupidly blank look on his face. If I steal his sandwich, will they send me to Law?

Probably. There was a guy watching him from outside the cell, and he hadn't moved since Law left. Kid would bet his left leg that the guy was only there to rat him out whenever he did something wrong.

Fine. Broth and veggies it was.

 A little while later, guards came by to line them up by the bars and let them out of their cells, one by one.

Whoever ran the prison wasn't stupid enough to give the guards guns, but all of them had spiked batons that they weren't afraid to use. Just while being herded down the hall, presumably toward whatever the recreation yard was, Kid had watched three prisoners who'd stepped out of line get beaten to a bloody pulp.

Well, all of them had batons, except for Kid's guard. It was obvious that he was Kid's, because he hadn't left his side since they'd opened the cell doors. The guy had kept steady pace with him, stopping when he stopped and moving when he moved. And yeah, the spiky batons looked nasty, but the little barbed knives hanging from this guard's belt were downright wicked.

It didn't take long to get to the yard, which turned out to be an open-air square of grass surrounded by twenty-foot-tall metal walls. There was a rough dirt path around the perimeter, with a few prisoners already jogging around, and a bolted down rack of weights far on one end.

Kid stopped as soon as he stepped foot outside, basking in the fresh air until a guard jabbed him with a baton and told him to get out of the way.

Kid shuffled a few steps to the left, leaned against a wall, and basked there instead.

The weak sun didn't provide much heat, and the air was heavy with salt and the sea. He grew bored of it quickly, glancing around to study the yard. The guard stood casually next to him, craning his neck up to look at the sky. He didn't say anything, so Kid ignored him.

Shit. People were staring at him. Nobody had given him anything else to wear, so he was stuck in the maid costume Law had fitted him with. He'd probably have to do something about that.

It was cold, but the hunger in some of the stares made his decision for him. The top half of the costume was the first to go, as he ripped the flimsy fabric down the middle. His skin stung and his wounds ached in the cold air, but he could deal with it.

He tried the collar next, fingers fumbling around the length of it for a clasp. He hadn't seen how Law had secured it when he put it on, but there had to be a way to get the thing off again.

His fingertips brushed against a solid chunk of metal, feeling out the distinctive shape of a keyhole. Fuck.

Kid scowled, giving up on the collar and moving to the lacey thigh-highs. They came off easily enough, and he tore out a long strip to use as a makeshift bandana before tossing the rest.

Then he mentally took a step back and examined himself. The top half of the outfit hung from his waist, covering the skirt and giving him a little more protection. The collar was still there, and still obnoxiously pink, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He looked about as normal as he was going to get, so he moved on.

Weights were out; he wasn't stupid enough to cozy up to the muscle freaks over by the rack. There were a few sparring rings scattered around, but like hell he was going to join one of those in this state. All the other equipment was taken, and he was in no shape to muscle somebody out of the way.

That left the dirt path. He was barefoot, so running would hurt like a bitch, but whatever. He'd take it.

The guy pushed off of the wall and followed him when Kid started heading for the track.

As soon as he took the first step to pick up speed, his foot screamed out in protest. He swore under his breath, forcing himself to slow down and keep moving when all he wanted to do was collapse to take the weight off it.

He couldn’t fall over now; he had no doubt a shit ton of people were watching, and if he didn’t already look like a pansy piece of shit, that would do it.

So he walked, gritting his teeth until the pain in his foot calmed to a manageable level. Two laps around the track, five laps, ten. He’d had a good deal of time to get used to walking again while being paraded around the prison, but he still felt stiff and unnatural. There was no way to know just how badly he’d been fucked up; even under the maid outfit, he was more bandage than skin.

Somebody lapped him on the track, moving fast. It was right as he reached a corner, and they cut across a little as they passed by. They cut in front of him a little too close, however, and he gritted his teeth as he had to jerk to a stop before he hit them.

He would have thought nothing of it. They misjudged the distance, is all. They hadn’t even looked twice at him.

One second, the man was a few inches in front of him. The next, he was on the ground, clutching his arm and screaming in pain.

Kid had already begun the motions to begin walking again, and he had to stumble to a halt again as he processed it. The guard…his guard…had moved so fast he almost hadn’t seen it, slicing with all four of those wicked knives in a single swipe.

Fuck, he could see the dull white glint of bone through the gaps in the man’s fingers, cinched tight as if he could hold the wound closed. The flesh was shredded, blood leaking from a hundred places at once, and not a single one of the guards at the door was moving to help. No other prisoners were, either.

He's gonna die, Kid realized. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he’d bleed to death, without any kind of care. For getting just a little too close.

His guard looked straight at him, watching, but without emotion. As if he was just waiting for Kid to move again so he could follow.

Kid looked at the man on the ground, still whimpering, still moaning and rocking back and forth pathetically, eyes closed tight as if he couldn’t stand to see the damage.

He looked away and kept walking. The guy wasn’t one of his; no one here was. And if he wanted to keep it that way, he needed to focus on himself.

He walked six more laps around the track, each time passing the man on the ground. The guards called for lineup again, to lead them back inside, and Kid never once looked behind him.

 Dinner was the same as lunch. Cold broth, raw vegetables, two pills on the side.

He ate it anyway.

 Sleep came as soon as he dropped his head on the pillow, but it didn’t last for more than a second until bright lights and loud, banging noises forced him awake. He cracked his eyes open to see trays being slid underneath the bars.

Food. God, he was starving. Kid moved to get up, but his entire body seized up in one big, painful cramp. Black spots swarmed in front of his eyes, covering his vision until he was completely blinded. After a few moments, the pain calmed and his sight returned, just in time to see the brutish bastard from earlier reaching for two white pills from one of the trays.

“Hey!” he barked out, struggling to get his feet beneath him to stand. He needed those pills, damnit-

The guy ignored him, hand inching forward until it was abruptly crushed under a thick black boot. He let out a surprised hiss, escalating to a low growl as his fingers were grinded into the floor.

Kid looked up and recognized his guard from yesterday. Thick sunglasses and a low-slung hat covered his face like all the other guards, but those knives at his hip were unmistakable.

His guard let the guy suffer for a few more moments, then lifted his boot, leaving the bastard to retreat to one corner of the cell with his own tray.

Kid cautiously lowered himself to the floor, wincing at the pressure on his foot, and inched forward to collect his tray. Cold broth again today, but the wilted vegetables had been replaced with equally-wilted fruit.

Whatever. It was better than celery.

He gingerly moved back to his cot, swallowed the pills, and downed the rest of it. From what he’d gathered yesterday, he still had two hours until he’d have to deal with Law again. He knew he should be using it to think of ways to escape, but all he could think of was his crew. Did Killer get to their safehouse? Had his crew managed to burn all the evidence in their base before they were forced to retreat? God, if they’d even missed a little of it, each one of them could be hunted down. That shit had their real names, their homes…Kid had kept track of everything on his men so he’d know when they were in trouble, but all that would backfire now if any of it remained.

Fuck, he couldn’t think about it. Already he felt disconnected from his life in the past, from his men, from everything to do with the world outside. He couldn’t have been here longer than a week, but it felt like he’d been suffering for a lifetime.

He must have passed out at some point, his body too exhausted to keep up with his racing mind, because the next thing he knew was his guard knocking on the bars to wake him up.

“Time to see the doctor.”

[real-life-pine-tree]

Counterpart Cousins: Dance Lessons - Part 1 (1/?)

When Yuto discovers his connections to the Sakaki family, his once-bleak and lonely life becomes a lot brighter. A series of Yuya and Yuto familial fluff oneshots based on the Arc-V Aftermath series. Co-written with @violetganache42.

One day, in the newly-revived Heartland section of the mashed-up unnamed city, Yuto Osaku was working out in the Obsidians' gymnasium. Ever since he and his counterparts split, he began a new chapter in his life; he started working for the family's company ObsidianCorp and has been living with his girlfriend Lulu and her older brother Shay. After accepting the job offer of being in charge of the company's new dueling branch and getting hired right off the bat, he has been adjusting to living in a high-class environment since he was born a middle-class civilian.

Today, he wasn't at work today because his schedule assigned him not to work on weekends, so what better way to spend the hour by gaining some muscle. He obviously isn't buff, but dealing with the Invasion helped make him a bit buffer than all of his counterparts combined. Lulu doesn't mind though; it was one of the many qualities she admired about him.

As he was doing some push-ups, a knock on the door was heard and a robotic voice wanted to tell him something important. "MASTER Y-YUTO, THERE IS A PHONE CALL FOR YOU."

"Who is it, Orbital?" Yuto asked.

"YUYA SAKAKI," Orbital answered.

Yuya? Why would his cousin want to talk to him? Was there something important he wants to discuss? "You can come in," Yuto said as he completed his last push-up and got back on his feet.

"YOU HAVE COMPLETE 32 PUSH-UPS," a robotic coach stated. "THAT IS A NEW RECORD."

"Thanks for the update," Yuto said after taking a sip from a bottle of water. "What's my update for weight lifting?"

"YOUR CURRENT WEIGHT LIFTING RECORD IS 3 POUNDS," the robotic coach answered.

Yuto chuckled. "I can do better than that," he said, wanting to beat Shay's record. "Add two more pounds."

"VERY WELL, MASTER YUTO," the robotic coach replied.

As the door opened, Orbital wheeled towards Yuto to hand him the phone as the robotic coach went over to where the weights were to make the total weights five pounds. "Hey Yuya," Yuto spoke into the phone. "What do you-"

"TEACH ME HOW TO DANCE!"

The sudden outburst scared Yuto, causing him to almost drop the phone. As he managed to catch it before it fell onto the floor, he wondered what was wrong with Yuya and why on earth he wanted to learn how to dance. Whatever the reason, he sounded pretty nervous.

"Calm down," Yuto said. "What's going on?"

"It's Zuzu!" Yuya exclaimed, still panicking. "There's a school dance in a few days, I asked her out, and I realized I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DANCE!"

Yuto chuckled. "Yuya, you already know how to dance," he pointed out.

"Not with a girl!" Yuya cried out. "I need you to teach me how to dance like how you dance with Lulu!"

The frantic teen remembered his cousin telling him and their counterparts one morning about the Heartland Duel School dance and he has a good visual of how romantic it must have been for the couple. The only problem is he wasn't there to fully experience it first hand to get an understanding of how to formally dance because he didn't knew about the other dimensions at the time.

"So you want me to teach you how to formally dance?" Yuto asked.

"Yes!" Yuya exclaimed.

"Alright," Yuto said. "I'll come over."

"Thank you!" Yuya said.

Yuto hung out the phone and gave it back to the head robo-butler. "Orbital, ask Mr. Obsidian if you could borrow the family car," the eggplant-haired teen ordered. "I need you to escort me to the Sakaki residence."

"BUT MASTER Y-YUTO, YOU ARE NOT SUITED FOR VISITING YUYA SAKAKI," Orbital pointed out.

Yuto looked down at the gym clothes he was wearing to see they were drenched in sweat. It seemed Orbital was right about him being unsuitable for a visit. He then altered the instructions to ask Kameron about borrowing the family car to see Yuya while he takes a shower. Once he was done, he'll know if was given permission to do so by then. The robo-butler understood the declaration loud and clear as the two departed through the gym doors.

"SHOULD I PROVIDE YOU WITH FRESH CLOTHES FOR YOU TO WEAR AFTER YOUR SHOWER?" Orbital asked.

"Of course," Yuto answered. "Go get one of my more casual outfits."

"YES SIR, MASTER Y-YUTO," Orbital replied with a salute.

As the two headed upstairs, they parted ways: Yuto going to Lulu's private bathroom to shower and Orbital searching the house where Kameron was and where he last saw him.

Lulu was experimenting with new ways to style her long hair when Yuto entered her bedroom. "Hey there, handsome," she casually said, her gaze never leaving her vanity mirror. "How was your workout?"

"I had to end it early," Yuto answered, blushing slightly at his girlfriend's compliment. "Yuya wants me to teach him how to dance."

"How cute!" Lulu remarked as she started brushing her hair. "You could use some cousin bonding."

Yuto knew what she meant by "cousin bonding". The Sakakis were the only people left in his family tree: Yusho, Yoko, Yuya, and Sora (who was adopted by Yoko not long ago). He still couldn't believe that he had been going against the Fusion Dimension alongside his own cousin all this time and didn't realize it until after he got the job of running the dueling branch at ObsidianCorp. It also explained why Yoko reminded him of his mother Lono. This new connection, without a doubt, changed his life and he actually did want to find the time to bond with Yuya now that the Interdimensional War was over. Since he doesn't have work, why not today?

"You're actually right," Yuto told Lulu. "I spent a lot of time with Yuya, but I never really got to know him. Maybe some bonding could help." He walked over to Lulu to kiss her cheek. "By the way, you look cute with pigtails."

Lulu giggled and thanked her boyfriend for the compliment. The last time she wore pigtails was before Lono's funeral and when he was practicing his Skill for the Team Duel Tournament. It was one of the many hairstyles she learned how to do while she was practicing on how to properly maintain long hair.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Lulu complimented as she proceeded to tie her hair up in pigtails with her feather-shaped hair clips, glancing at Yuto through her mirror. "The t-shirt and shorts you're wearing nicely show off your muscles."

Yuto smirked after hearing those words and looking at his reflection. It may be a time of peace, but he still has his ego. At this point, he's gotten used to the comments of how certain features of him look nice. "I guess that Invasion proved to be a bit useful," he remarked, flexing his arm.

This was one of Yuto's many ways of flirting with Lulu because he knows how much she loves his slightly muscular body. And sure enough, she was blushing heavily and smiling wide. "We have plenty of time together this evening," she informed. "You said you'll help Yuya learn how to dance, remember?"

"Of course," Yuto replied. "But as a preview for tonight..." He proceeded to take off his t-shirt before heading into the bathroom, leaving his girlfriend in stunned silence.

Several minutes later, Orbital entered the bedroom with a pile of clean clothes just as Yuto was almost done with his shower. "Hi Orbital," Lulu said, testing new lipstick shades.

"HELLO MISTRESS L-LULU," Orbital greeted. "LILLYBOT IS ALMOST DONE WITH HER MONTHLY MAINTENANCE CHECK."

"Thanks Orbital," Lulu said. She glanced at what Orbital was carrying. "Fresh clothes for Yuto?"

"JUST LIKE HE ORDERED," Orbital replied. "I ALSO WISH TO INFORM YOU THAT THE WEDDING PREPARATIONS FOR YOURS AND MASTER Y-YUTO'S WEDDING ARE-"

"Activate Protocol TBA-.09," Lulu interrupted, feeling embarrassed.

Protocol TBA-.09 was a special program made to have any discussions regarding the early wedding preparations interrupted. Lulu installed it in all the house robots, including Lillybot and Orbital, because the thought of focusing on those plans was embarrassing, especially at an age as young as 14 years old. Why else would it include the acronym TBA in the first place?

"MY APOLOGIES, MISTRESS L-LULU," Orbital said. "BUT YOUR FATHER WAS SO INSISTENT. HE AND YOUR MOTHER ARE HAPPY THAT YOU CHOSE A SUITOR FOR YOURSELF."

"I know," Lulu said, letting out a loving sigh. "Yuto is cute and perfect, a true blessing."

At that moment, it sounded like the shower was turned off. "Orbital, if you're already here, I want to tell you that I'm done," Yuto said from behind the bathroom door.

"SHALL I GIVE YOU YOUR CLOTHES?" Orbital asked.

The door cracked open. "Just leave them near the door," Yuto answered.

"YES SIR, MASTER Y-YUTO," Orbital replied with a salute.

Orbital placed the clothes near the door so that Yuto can get some privacy while drying off. They consisted of a dark red t-shirt and dark denim jeans, alongside his dog collar and silver-studded black wristbands. He kept his wristbands and dog collar with him after he got his body back whenever he wants to dress casual, such as today.

Yuto picked up the provided clothes. "Not bad," he commented from inside the bathroom. "Orbital, I want you to also retrieve my black sneakers."

"YES SIR, MASTER Y-YUTO," Orbital replied with a salute.

With the clothes in his hands, Yuto closed the bathroom door to dry off and get dressed. His usual routine when it comes to getting clean after showering involves him rubbing off the water from his body with his towel and using a hairdryer to blow dry and brush his spiky, eggplant-colored hair due to him having thicker and longer hair than his counterparts. Once he was no longer wet and damp, he put on the provided clothes for the day and not forgetting to wear the light gray glasses he received on the night of the LID dance. He smirked at his reflection as he put on his dog collar and wristbands, happy with his look.

The bathroom door opened as he stepped into Lulu's bedroom, clean and dressed to visit Yuya. Of course, Lulu was impressed. "Not bad," she said, looking at Yuto through her mirror. "You look pretty cute."

"Not as cute as you," Yuto replied, noting that his girlfriend's hair was done in long pigtails.

"I appreciate the compliment, but you do have to visit Yuya," Lulu pointed out.

"Of course," Yuto said. "Orbital, did you speak to Mr. Obsidian?"

"HE IS OKAY WITH ME DRIVING YOU TO THE SAKAKI RESIDENCE," Orbital reported.

"Good," Yuto said. He looked back at Lulu, who was trying to choose between two shades of lipstick. "Go with pale pink lipstick," he advised. "Bright red probably won't look good on you."

Lulu realized he was right; bright red wasn't the kind of lipstick to wear on non-formal days. She thanked him for the tip before he left the bedroom with Orbital.

"MASTER Y-YUTO, YOU SAID YUYA SAKAKI IS YOUR COUSIN," Orbital said, giving Yuto his black sneakers. "BUT YOUR TWO LOOK SO SIMILAR. ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE NOT TWINS?"

"It's kind of complicated," Yuto admitted as he put on his shoes. "But long story short, my mom happened to be Yuya's aunt."

"OF COURSE," Orbital said. "THAT WOULD EXPLAIN THE SIMILAR FACES AND VOICES."

Once they were outside, two opened the front doors, with Orbital obviously in the driver's seat and Yuto riding shotgun. The robo-butler extended his body in order for him to drive; it was part of his program to do so whenever Shay or Lulu needed a lift. After buckling their seatbelts, Yuto gave out instructions to head to Yuya's house for the former to program them in.

"MASTER Y-YUTO, ACCORDING TO MY DATABANKS, YUYA SAKAKI NEVER HAD AN AUNT," Orbital realized as he drove.

"Our moms were separated when the four dimensions were created," Yuto explained. "Aunt Yoko was in the Standard Dimension, while my mom was in the XYZ Dimension. It wasn't until recently that Yuya noticed my last name is the exact same as his mom's maiden name."

"I SEE," Orbital said. "IS THAT WHY YOU AND YUYA SAKAKI ARE COUSINS?"

"Pretty much," Yuto answered.

Some time later, they arrived at the Sakaki residence as Orbital parked in front of the house. Yuto unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car to head inside, only for him to be greeted by Yoko.

"Hi Yuto," Yoko said, letting the XYZ Duelist enter the house. "Yuya is currently in his room."

"Thanks Aunt Yoko," Yuto said. Needless to say, it still felt weird calling her 'aunt'.

Yuto then headed upstairs to Yuya's bedroom, where he saw his tomato-haired cousin sitting on his bed with a huge pile of books. "Yuya?" he asked, perplexed. "What's with all the books?"

Yuya held up the book he was currently reading, which was called 'Dancing for Clueless Idiots'. "I got these from the local library," he explained. "But I don't think they're helping."

"Of course they're not helping," Yuto said. "You can't learn how to dance by reading. You need to picture it."

"Picture it?" Yuya asked

Yuto nodded in response. "Just imagine it," he said, taking the book out of Yuya's hand and setting it aside. "You're at the Paradise Prep school dance. You arrived late, but across the room, you see a beautiful princess."

Yuya closed his eyes to imagine himself overdue in entering his school for the dance. In his mind, he donned his tuxedo that Yusho used to wear when he was younger because he planned on wearing it in a few days. Just as he was about to take a look at his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of this princess that Yuto mentioned. She had pink hair that reached past her shoulders with short, light pink side tails; no doubt he pictured Zuzu.

"Zuzu..." Yuya said.

"You have seen this princess before, but not like this," Yuto said. "She looks too beautiful, causing your heartbeat to increase. You can't believe a princess like her would even consider a guy like you. But regardless of your past, you walk over to her, hypnotized by her radiant beauty."

The words coming out of Yuto's mouth came into a reality in Yuya's head as he walked to where she was while left speechless and dazed at how beautiful she looked. He soon found himself standing right in front of her.

"Wow..." Yuya said. "You look amazing."

"Thanks Yuya," Zuzu replied, smiling softly. "You don't look so bad either."

"Suddenly, music starts playing," Yuto said. "But not just any music. It's softer music, perfect for a romantic dance."

Sure enough, romantic music began its melody as it echoed throughout the entire gymnasium. That could only mean one thing: it was time for people to start dancing, but the question was will Yuya be able to dance with a girl.

He looked at Zuzu. Taking a deep breath, he held out his hand. "Do you... Do you..."

Yuto let out a frustrated sigh. "Stop hesitating," he said. "It will only make you look nervous. Be more confident and know you can do it."

Yuya was the kind of person to not have a lot of confidence in certain aspects. Getting cornered in duels, coping with his odd-eyed colors on his irises, and now formal dancing. Whatever the situation is that intends to break his confidence, he was bound to be hesitant. He has been able to gain a confidence boost as he travelled with the Lancers across dimensions, so hopefully it'll come to good use in his vision.

"Alright," Yuya said. "Zuzu Boyle, do you want to dance with me?"

Zuzu's smile became brighter. "Of course, Yuya," she said, accepting his hand.

The moment the two held hands, Yuya could physically feel Zuzu's hand even though it was only an imagination. But the touch felt a bit off...

"You escort her to the dance floor, your hand never leaving hers," Yuto said. "Once you arrive at the dance floor, you get into position as you place your other hand on her waist and she places her other hand on your shoulder."

The vision repeated exactly what Yuto said as Yuya and Zuzu accompanied each other to the dance floor and placed their free hands on the latter's waist and the former's shoulder. Their contact still felt different yet he couldn't determine why.

"You and the princess gently move to the music," Yuto said. "You hold her very gently as your dance with her, almost as if she's a porcelain doll, your gaze never leaving her beautiful eyes."

Yuya knew Zuzu was more spunky and short-tempered than delicate while they danced slowly. Could this be the unusual feeling he was just experiencing?

"Then it hits you," Yuto said. "Out of all the guys in the city, why you? Why would this beautiful, elegant princess fall for you? You're nothing more than a commoner, so why-"

"We're not talking about Lulu," Yuya interrupted.

Yuto immediately caught on what his cousin was saying. His dating experience involved Lulu, and given that she and Zuzu look alike due to them being Ray's reincarnations, he thought they were the same. But seriously, can you blame him? He met her in person several times before the Arc League Championship and she reminded him of his girlfriend.

"But you still shouldn't be too rough," Yuto pointed out. "Even if a girl isn't a princess, they deserve to be treated like one during these moments."

He wasn't wrong. Even the toughest females can reveal their softest, gentlest, and princess-like selves if given the right amount of treatment from the males, and Zuzu was no exception.

"So... I heard you-" Yuya started to say.

"Please be quiet," Yuto said. "Talking will only ruin the mood."

Yuya quickly shut his lips after Yuto was done talking. He wondered what the next part of the dance lessons were going to be.

"As you embrace in the dance, you can't help but be amazed as the beautiful princess," Yuto continued. "There's even a point in which she displays a bit of affection."

Yuya resumed imagining himself and Zuzu dancing, only this time, it appeared he was a natural at it. His expectations have been achieving much greater heights than he initially thought; he was amazed at how well his imaginary self was doing. As they waltzed across the floor, his childhood friend ruffled his soft, fluffy, tomato-colored hair as a sign of affection. Much like with the hand-holding, he felt his hair getting disheveled outside of his mind.

"Are you sure that's something Lulu would do?" Yuya asked.

"Of course," Yuto admitted. "And you did say Zuzu likes your hair.”

Yuya grinned. "Well yeah," he answered. "She thinks it's my best feature. She's always touching it when we kiss or cuddle."

It was a no-brainer that he knows she loves his hair. Sure, it may not be as elaborately-styled as his counterparts, but it still managed to preserve its perfectly-coiffed appearance, even if it did look somewhat feminine to a few people, which makes it an admirable trait of his for her.

Yuto chuckled at his cousin's happiness. "But calm down," he said. "You need to stop getting excited. You're supposed to stay calm during these events."

"Right," Yuya said. He took a deep breath. "Stay calm. I can do that."

Once he relaxed, he continued picturing the scenario that Yuto was describing. "I think I know what happens next," Yuya said as the dance came to an end. "There's gonna be a moment when the lights shine just right."

"Uh, Yuya?" Zuzu asked.

"And those lights will make her beautiful eyes sparkle," Yuya said, shifting his hand from her own hand to her cheek.

"Yuya...?" Zuzu asked, sounding concerned.

"Then we lean in," Yuya continued, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned in. "And we share a loving-"

"Yuya!"

THUD!

Yuya was snapped out of his fantasy and found himself on the bedroom floor. He shifted his head up to see that Yuto had shoved him onto the floor because he was now getting carried away. "What just happened?" Yuya asked.

Yuto simply groaned as he pressed his fingers against his forehead. "Do I have to remind you that we're the same person?" he asked.

"I don't get it," Yuya said as he stood back up. "You told me to picture it, so I did."

"Exactly," Yuto said. "You imagined a little too much."

Yuto's intention was to guide Yuya on dancing in formal events, but it may have worked a tad bit too well regarding on how it just went down. Despite that, does his cousin now have a general idea on formally dancing with girls?

Yuya's eyes widened. "Wait... That was you?!" he asked, alarmed.

"Yes, I was guiding you on how to dance," Yuto clarified. "I told you to picture the night of the dance so it would feel less weird to you."

"That means I..." Yuya said. He cringed a bit, realizing that what he thought was Zuzu in his mind was actually Yuto. "That would explain why it felt weird."

Yuto nodded in response, which was his way of admitting that it felt rather awkward to him as well when he thought about it. "So do you have an idea of how to dance with a girl?" he asked.

"I think so," Yuya admitted. "But your hands feel too smooth."

Yuto wasn't a Dueltainer in his hometown, so his hands weren't as rough as Yuya's and Zuzu's. He also was given access to the Obsidians' expensive body and hand lotion when he first moved in with them; with the accepted job offer and his first formal party in mind, it was another sign that he was still adapting to high-class life.

"My hands aren't too smooth," Yuto said. "Your hands are too rough."

"Because I use them a lot," Yuya explained. "But aside from that, I think I got the hang of it."

"Good," Yuto said, smiling in satisfaction. "Now to work on your appearance..."

Yuya questioned why he should focus on his appearance because he looked fine, but was told that the Paradise Prep dance was a formal event and there was no way he was attending it with his goggles on his head. He replied that he took those off for Lono's funeral and he knew how everyone always dressed in black for funerals because black symbolized death; in other words, the upcoming dance has no death symbolism.

"Because for a formal event, wearing goggles isn't appropriate," Yuto explained as he took off Yuya's goggles.

Yuya's head suddenly felt bare to him. He has worn those goggles ever since he was only 6 years old. It was practically a trademark to him and the light blue star on the right lens helps others identify him…along with his red and green hair and matching eyes. They also have been a coping mechanism of his to give him reassurance and regained confidence. Why else does he constantly wear them on his head? What if something goes terribly wrong at the dance and he doesn't have them?

Yuto did a double take. "Then again, you might need more work done," he realized.

"But I was planning on wearing my dad's old tux," Yuya explained.

Yuto let out a soft chuckle. "Shay is the only person I know who can pull off tuxes for formal events," he said. "You're going to have to come back to the Obsidians residence with me."

[caredogstips]

Man v rat: could the long conflict soon be over? | Jordan Kisner

The Long Read: Rat spread infection, ravage crops and very sometimes eat beings alive. For centuries, we have struggled to find an efficient way of controlling their numbers. Until now

First, the stories. “There wasnt” super rats. Apart from a specific subtropical make, they do not get very big than 20 inches long, includes the fanny. They are not blind , nor are they so worried about “cat-o-nine-tails”. They do not carry rabies. They do not, as was indicated in 1969 viewing an island in Indonesia, fall from the sky. Their communities are not led by elusive, monstrous king rats. Rat skeletons cannot liquefy and reconstitute at will.( For some otherwise rational people, this is a genuine relate .) They are not indestructible, and there are not as many of them as we remember. The one-rat-per-human in New York City estimate is pure fiction. Consider this the good news.

In most other respects, the rat problem, as it has come to be known, is a perfect nightmare. Wherever humans travel, rats follow, forming shadow metropolitans under our metropolises and hollows beneath our farmlands. They thrive in our squalor, attaining dwellings of our sewers, vacated alleys, and forgot ballparks. They poison food, gnaw babes, undermine builds, spread malady, devastate crop furnishes, and very rarely eat parties alive.A male and female left to their own machines for one year the average lifespan of a town rat can beget 15,000 descendants.

There may be no prince rat, “but theres” rat lords, an organization of up to 30 rats whose tails have knotted together to form one monstrou, swirling mass. Rats may be unable to liquefy their bones to slide under doors, but they dont need to: their skeletons are so flexible that they can constrict their route through any pit or crack wider than half an inch. They are cannibals, and they sometimes titter ( kind of )~ ATAGEND specially when tickled. They can seem en masse, as if from nowhere, moving as fast as seven paws per second. They do not carry rabies, but a 2014 consider from Columbia University found that the average New York City subway rat carried 18 viruses previously unknown to discipline, together with dozens of familiar, hazardous pathogens, such as C difficile and hepatitis C. As recently as 1994 there was a major reappearance of bubonic haras in India, an distasteful flashback to the 14 th century, when that rat-borne illness killed 25 million people in five years. Collectively, rats are responsible for more human death than any other mammal on earth.

Humans have a peculiar talent for obliterating other species. In the case of rats, we have been pursuing their total demise for centuries. We have invented elaborated, horrific nets. We have trained hounds, ferrets, and “cat-o-nine-tails” to kill them. We have invented ultrasonic machines to drive them away with high-pitched racket.( Those machines, still popular, do not work .) We have poisoned them in their millions. In 1930, faced with a rat infestation on Rikers Island, New York City officials flushed the region with mustard gas. In the late 1940 s, scientists developed anticoagulants to plow thrombosis in humen, and some years later supertoxic versions of the medications were developed in order to kill rats by making them bleed to extinction from the inside after a single quantity. Cityscapes and farmlands were drenched with thousands of tonnes of these chemicals. During the 1970 s, we utilized DDT. These periods, rat poison is not just sown in the earth by the truckload, it is rained from helicopters that track the rats with radar in 2011 80 metric tonnes of poison-laced bait were dropped on to Henderson Island, home to one of the last untouched coral reef in the South Pacific. In 2010, Chicago officials croaked natural: figuring a natural piranha might track and kill rats, they secreted 60 coyotes wearing radio collars on to the city streets.

Still, here “they il be”. Harmonizing to Bobby Corrigan, the worlds conducting expert on rodent ascendancy, many of the worlds enormous metropolis remain totally overcome. In New York were losing that war in a big lane, he told me. Combat analogies have become a central boast of rat conference among pest limit professionals. In Robert Sullivans 2014 volume Rats, he described humanitys relation with the species as an unending and bestial battle, a battle we seem ever, always to lose.

Why? How is it that we can send robots to Mars, build the internet, keep alive infants born so early that their surface isnt even amply made and yet persist unable to keep rats from peril our food supplies, biting our newborns, and appearing in our toilet bowls?

Frankly, rodents are the most successful species, Loretta Mayer told me lately. After the next holocaust, both rats and Twinkies will be the only concepts left. Mayer is a biologist, and she contends that the rat problem is actually a human trouble, a result of our preposterous selections and lacks of curiosity. In 2007, she co-founded SenesTech, a biotech startup that offers the promise of an truce in a conflict that has lasted thousands of years. The abstraction is simple: rat birth control

The rats primary survival knowledge, as a species, is its disheartening charge of breeding. Female rats ovulate every four epoches, copulate dozens of times a day and continue fruitful until they die.( Like humans, they have sex for solace as well as for procreation .) This is how “theres going” from two to 15,000 in a single time. When poison or catches thin out its own population, they mate faster until their numbers regenerate. Conversely, if you can keep them from copulating, settlements collapse in weeks and do not rebound.

Solving the rat question by putting them on the pill voices ludicrous. Until recently no pharmaceutical concoction existed that could shape rats infertile, and even if it had, there was still the issue of how it could be administered. But if such a thing were to work, the impact “couldve been” historic. Rats would die off without the is necessary to poison, radar or coyotes.

SenesTech, which is based in Flagstaff, Arizona, claims to have created a liquid that will do precisely that. In experiments conducted in Indonesian rice fields, South Carolina pig farms, the outskirts of Boston and the New York City subway, the produce, called ContraPest, effected a fall in rat populations of approximately 40% in 12 weeks. This autumn, for the first time, the company is forming ContraPest available to commercial groceries in the US and Europe. The team at SenesTech believes it could be the first meaningful advance in the fight against rats in a hundred years, and the first workable alternative to poison. Mayer was weaken about the implications: This will change “the worlds” .

Mayer is a tall, vigorous lady in her mid-6 0s with bright eyes, spiky gray-haired whisker and a toothy grin. Her dogmata of selection are Buddhism and the Girl Scouts. Its various kinds of my core, she enunciated of the latter, to do for others. In gossip, her demeanour is so upbeat that she seems to be holding forth radiantly before an audience or on the brink of explosion into ballad. When wished to know how she is doing, she routinely reacts in a near-rapture: If I was any better, Id be a twin! she also appears to enjoy watching parties be interested to know whether this is an expression they should know.

When I took a seat in her office earlier this year, she applauded her sides triumphantly and articulated Ooh! Youre sitting outside record and strength! There was a breather. I had a feng shui party come and do my agency, she explained.

Loretta Mayer, CEO of SensTech, props up a test cup of the companys rat contraceptive formula. Photograph: Taylor Mahoney/ SenesTech

Mayer came to science later than customary, in her mid-4 0s, after a career in real estate development and a stint as the international vice president of Soroptimist, a global voluntary organisation dedicated to improving the lives of women. The job change was surprising, even to her. After a close friend expired abruptly of a heart attack, Mayer called up a biologist she knew and asked how something like this could have happened. The biologist “havent had” filling answer; she explained that while congestive heart failure in humanities had been thoroughly studied, little attention had been devoted to post-menopausal congestive heart failure in dames. Well youve got to change it, Mayer responded, scandalized. The biologist was otherwise occupied, so Mayer decided to do it herself. At 46, she penetrated a PhD programme in biology at Northern Arizona University.

After graduate school, her initial study as a prof of biology at Northern Arizona focused on artificially persuasion menopause in lab mouse so that she could analyze changes in the postmenopausal mettle. Three years into her efforts, Mayer was contacted by Patricia Hoyer, a peer in Phoenix, who said that she had stumbled across a substance that seemed to make mice infertile, without having any other outcomes. Together, Mayer and Hoyer synthesised a new complex, which they announced Mouseopause.

Shortly after Mayer and Hoyer published their work on Mouseopause in 2005, Mayer received a telephone call from a veterinarian in Gallup, New Mexico, who had read about her research. The Navajo reservation where he worked was overrun by wild puppies. There were too many to spay and neuter, so “hes been” euthanising virtually 500 a few months. If you are able do for a bird-dog what you can do for a mouse, I could stop killing bird-dogs out here, he told her.

Mayer describes herself as excessively connected to animals, dogs in particular. When she arrived in Gallup and identified the piled bodies, she agreed to measure Mouseopause on an initial group of 18 booking puppies. I held up that first puppy, who I called Patient Zero, she told me, and I pronounced, I dont know what this is gonna do to you, but you will live on a satin pillow the rest of your periods. The insertion saw the dogs infertile, but left them otherwise glad and healthy.( Mayer delivered home all 18 pups and built a kennel in her ground to house them until she could find residences for them with houses she knew personally. Patient Zero, renamed Cheetah, lived with her until she died of old age though the pillow was fleece .)

The next request received from Australia in 2006. Biologists there wanted an adaptation of Mouseopause for rats. Rats, they told her, were snacking 30% of the rice harvest in Australia and Indonesia. If she could reduce the rat person by even half, they claimed, the harvests that would be saved could feed millions of people.

Mayer was moved by the idea of finding a solution to rat overpopulation that was neither lethal nor noxious. Since its fabrication, rat poison has been our primary procedure of curbing rat people, but it is dangerous. Assimilated in high-pitched doses, its lethal to humen, and it poses a particular to children because it is sweet and brightly emblazoned. In the US alone, more than 12,000 brats per year, the majority of members of whom live below the poverty line, are accidentally poisoned by pesticide symbolize for rats.

The collateral mar incurred by rat poison likewise extends to the environment, leaching into the grunge and poisoning house babies, farm animals, and wildlife that feed on rats. Worst of all, rat poison is not very effective at eliminating large-scale infestations. As long as there was a meat generator, colonies bounce back, and, especially in Europe, rats has been an increase resistant to the poisons. As Mayer often enunciates, Doing the same concept over and over and expecting different ensues: isnt that the definitions contained in madnes?

Persuaded by the research, and by her bride, fellow biologist Cheryl Dyer, Mayer decided to devote her job to developing a new, smarter direction to control the rat person. In 2007, they founded SenesTech. Beings do never to invest with a husband and wife squad, Mayer joked to me. I speak, Oh absolutely not! Then you have preeminence. But wife and partner? Works enormous!

For Dyer and Mayer, the immediate problem was obvious: while the laboratories mice and feral bird-dogs had received injections in controlled studies, wild rats would have to eat the formula of their own choice. Rats are neophobic they forestall what they dont know. Whats more, municipality rats are already well fed. In New York City, for example, they have fresh bagels, pizza, defrosted ice cream and fried chicken in unending furnish. To attain, Dyer and Mayer had to stimulate the combination not just edible but delicious.

After a series of tests, they speedily settled on a liquid, rather than solid, formulation. Rats have to suck 10% of their own bodies heavines every day to survive, and so are always ogling out for something potable. We compared the[ two] and they urinate on the solid and drank the fluid, Dyer told me. Rats are pretty straightforward.

Where Mayer is tall and voluble, Dyer is short and broad-shouldered, quiet and succinct. She seems most comfortable behind the scenes, if exclusively because it is easier to get away with wearing Hawaiian-print shirts and no shoes. At SenesTechs headquarters, Dyers windowless office is right next to Mayers, and if Mayers office evokes Zen, Dyers evokes an island paradise. Incidents from Hawaii envelop her walls, hula( and rat) figurines row the shelves, and on her table sits a small wooden mansion, which does, WELCOME TO THE TIKI BAR. I still have a widescreen Tv, on which Dyer likes to watch old-time movies on soften all day.

It was Dyers job to acquire Mouseopause appetizing for rats a ticklish overture because its active ingredient, 4-vinylcyclohexene diepoxide( VCD ), is fierce and caustic. Rats have the same smell advantages as humans they adoration fat and carbohydrate though Dyers experiments with various smells profiles indicated that their desire for both surpass ours.

She was also tasked with the greater challenge of adapting Mouseopause to work on rats, which are much hardier than mice. While VCD effected the eggs in mouse ovaries to decline rapidly, female rats were far less susceptible. Hoping for a complex gist, Dyer included two seconds active ingredient: triptolide, which stunted any germinating eggs. The solutions become better, but still not been enough. They precisely had smaller litters, goddammit, she said.

Eventually, out of a mixture of curiosity and madnes, she fed it to both males and females. The develop was drastic. It turns out that the triptolide destroyed sperm the males became sterile almost immediately after assimilating the formula. This was a total bombshell: no one had ever experimented triptolide on male rats before. It was dazing, Dyer told me. Totally unpredictable. Research after test: no puppy. She sighed. Man, you should have viewed the No Pup party. After three years of research and evolution, they had a make that worked and did not trauma other swine.( The active ingredients are metabolised by the rats body in 10 minutes, which means that any piranha that chews it is not affected, and the compound rapidly breaks down into inactive ingredients when it makes grunge or ocean .)

ContraPest, the finished product, is viscous and dessert. Electric pink and opaque, it tastes like nine packets of saccharine blended into two tablespoons of kitchen lubricant. Rats adoration it, Dyer added. Affection it. Mayer, who taste-tested every form during the development process, has not been able to say the same for herself.

In 2013, New Yorks Metropolitan Transit Authority( MTA) reached out to Mayer after hearing about SenesTechs early experiments to ask whether the company would experiment ContraPest in New Yorks metroes as part of a citywide effort to find brand-new, most successful alternatives to poison. Numerous municipalities dedicate manpower and fund to keeping the rats under control, but New York, which is more or less the rat capital of the western world, is the epicentre of anti-rat efforts. Every incoming mayor of New York shows his intentions for a enormous rodenticide Giuliani even commissioned a rat czar to oversee the carnage merely to leave the next guy even more to deal with.

Brown rat( Rattus norvegicus) rearing up. Guardian Design Photograph: Frank Greenaway/ Getty Images/ Dorling Kindersley

When the MTA officials contacted Mayer, she echoed, they were worried that the formula would not work on New York rats, which have the reputation of being bigger, tougher, and smarter than any other metropolitan rat in “the worlds”.( Norway rats, the species infesting New York, are not in fact the largest rat kind .) They requested Mayer whether they should send a few New York rats on a plane to Arizona so that SenesTech could experiment with them before coming to New York. No, I dont was just thinking, responded Mayer, entertained. I never met a rat I couldnt sterilise.

Mayer dispatched two of SenesTechs youngest scientists, women in their 20 s, to New York that are intended to test whether the formula was appealing enough. Would New York rats favor ContraPest to ocean or pizza? Wearing the most appropriate approximation of hazmat dress to protect themselves from the excrement, the scientists patrolled the metroes trash storage rooms under Grand Central Station. They planted bait chests filled with feed depots of ContraPest and then stood nearby, counting the rats that came in and out with clickers in order to racetrack how many rats were taking the bait. For six months, they baited and weighed, their suits at the end of each day in bleach.

The two young women went home to Arizona with good report: is not simply did the New York rats drink ContraPest, the drink actually worked on them. The measure approved the most important one hopes of the company there was an alternative to poison that would work, even in New York City, and they had observed it.

When humans and swine come together, there are selects. Mayer believes that if you understand the ecology of the swine and you understand your own ecology, then you and the animal will be able to coexist peacefully. After centuries of misperception and squeamishness, we are at last have a good clasp of rat ecology. Now the problem may be our hesitancy to look too carefully at ourselves.

In his 1983 journal More Cunning than Man, scribe Robert Hendrickson rolls the obvious spaces in which rats so well resemble humans: brutality, omnivorousness, adaptability to all climes, movement from east to west in the life journey of their species, reckless fecundity in all seasons, with a seeming need to prepare genocidal conflict on their own manner. He describes rats and men alike as utterly destructive, both taking all other living thing for their purposes.

Humanitys long struggle with rats predominantly signals the worst traits we share with them: our inability to live responsibly within environmental purposes; our bias toward hedonism and avarice; and our failures to look after the weakest among us. Going rid of them makes chastising ourselves first.

SenesTech is not alone in its to make efforts to organize a more sustained, responsible procedure of dissolving the rat difficulty. Its the job is heir to an existing method: integrated pest management, or IPM, which holds that if humans particularly city-dwellers took more care with their milieu, rats wouldnt thrive.

IPMs most vocal advocate is Bobby Corrigan, who has brought its principles to farmlands and metropolitans all over the world, most notably New York, which recently revised its rat domination program on his advice. Twice a year, he teaches the New York health departments Rat Academy, a three-day trained for manufacture professionals. This April, there used to be perhaps 100 attendees wedged into wooden theatre benches in a downtown auditorium, comprising feeble coffee and spongy muffins.

Corrigan is a thinnish, pale man, bald-pated except for a low-grade, wispy crown framing his ears. He invests his nighttimes on wall street or in basement recess analyse rats. Formerly, he lay in an alley with peanut butter spread around him all darknes so he had been able to get good photographs.( No, it wasnt safe. Yes, the latter are urinating on me. In grad school, you do crazy things .) He sees his work with utmost seriousness.

Heres what health professionals do, he said to his audience by way of introduction. He placed at a slip behind him and read aloud.

We protect the ceiling over folks chiefs . We protect the meat they snack . We protect their health, consolation and safety .

Im not saying this to pat us on the back. This is real. This is our job.[ Rat] get on airplanes. They chew on wires. They justification maladies. To me, this is the shot listen round “the worlds”. Then he spent 20 hours explaining how to divine datum from rat fells based on their moisture.

As the day wore on, Corrigans core message for his audience developed: struggle rats entails has undertaken to holistic attempts , not looking for a speedy, flashy mend. We love to spritz troubles away, Corrigan told me afterwards. A compound or a net, its a Band aid, and theyre Band Aids that come off very quickly. Instead, Corrigan highlights the fact that you first need to remove the rats food, then remove the rats shelter, and only then take lethal quantifies if you have to.

In theory, this solution is simple-minded. It does not involve radar or handguns. Instead, it necessitates eyelids for the trash barrel, and caulking for the rifts in foundations, or retaining our own little dens cleanse, as Corrigan articulates. It is the obvious answer, the one that has been sitting under our snouts for centuries: stop feeding them, stop housing them, and they will go away on their own.

The problem is that people, as the standard rules, favor the quick fix. Mounting out poison is easier; the ultrasonic machine looks cool. The sensible, labour-intensive alternative matches with defiance. Often, when Corrigan is called out to consult with a property owner, the owner rebuffs his advice, simply because following it would require too much contemplate, effort or expense.

And sometimes, even those who are willing to try his methods do not have the resources. Ricky Simeone, the director of pest ascendancy for New Yorks health department, explained to me that the neighbourhoods that struggle with the most difficult rat infestations are not the ones who file the most reports to its term of office. The poorest vicinities are very overwhelmed with other social or economic questions to file complaints or, worse, they consent rat infestation as one of the conditions of living in poverty.

Corrigan had reaffirmed that rats, particularly in metropolitans, affect the poorest of the poor more than the rich, because effective pest govern services are expensive. But he pointed out that no one absolutely escapes the rat question , no matter how rich. Municipalities such as New York make evident a universal truth. Were all accommodating mitts whether we know it or like it. Your rats are my rats. If the city blows it off, the sewer rats become everybodys rats. Rats are everybodys issue.

Everyone concludes, Its not my job, its someone elses job, Corrigan sustained. They envision, Oh I live in New York , no one can get rid of the rats in New York! He leaved a short sigh. We dont think we can do it alone, this is why we dont do anything as a group. As with all conditions that menace everyone but harassed the disadvantaged above all, developments in the situation is not better because we are not better.

Homo sapiens, Corrigan said to his audience at the Rat Academy. Does anyone know what this entails?

He smiled a grim little smile. Wise man.

Improving society is a collective project, but as Corrigan attests, it happens because individual beings make it their business to incite change. Mayer and Dyer, very, see this as their assignment. We have to be better stewards than this, Dyer told me strenuously. Were better than this. If SenesTech appears whimsicals in the endeavor, its founders do not seem to mind.

Rats are so longstanding a danger to humanity that contemplating an discontinue to the rat problem seems like a fiction. Photograph: AFP/ Getty Images

On a Tuesday night in August, Mayer and Dyer braced a revelry in their backyard of staff members and investors. The fellowship had just received US Environmental Protection Agency registration, a process that are typically takes times and often overheads more than companies of SenesTechs size can render.( The EPA is making an active great efforts to get rat poison off the markets in the US, and received word of SenesTechs science with enthusiasm .) Now, with the EPAs blessing, the company could take ContraPest to commercial-grade sells. Immediately, more than 100 calls and 200 emails came in with tell requests.

Mayer and Dyer live in a one-level wood hut a few miles north of downtown Flagstaff, in a wooded sphere near a subject of wildflowers. For the opportunity, they had cleared the back patio, where Mayer does her morning reflection and yoga, and replenished it with deck furniture and folding tables. The sunlight was coming down the San Francisco Peaks.

It was not a usual investors dinner, but then, SenesTechs nearly 700 stakeholders are primarily firefighters. While most biotech startups are funded by investment bankers and venture capitalists, Mayer chose to pursue funding from grant-giving the organizations and a multitude of private donors, all of whom built small investments, and each of whom Mayer knows by epithet. It was a pure accident of networking that so many of them shown itself to be firemen, but she is stimulated with the situation. Firefighters certainly believes in doing good, Mayer to present to me. And theyre like teenage girls. Formerly one of them invested, they all missed in.

There were perhaps 25 people investors, board members and SenesTech staff picked on the back terrace, ingesting tacos and drinking from Mayer and Dyers impressive liquor accumulation, but they constructed racket for 50. They were boisterous and caring, hugging one another, teasing each other, shouting old-time storeys to roarings of laughter, and clinking glass. About half the room seemed new and wearing Hawaiian patterned shirts.

When the time came for Mayer to pay a communication, she demurred for a moment before standing. Her toast altered briefly into an fable about flattening mouse skeletons in lasagna tins. But seriously, she mentioned, returning to her topic, We knew[ the working day] would come. Its enormous to be riding this motion with you. Its just so sweet. Glasses heaved into the air.

There was considerable work left to do: now that SenesTech had its national enrollment, it would have to file for registration in every position.( Since then, the company has registered in 11 US countries, and begun enrollment in the EU .) The manufacturing crew was hurrying to construct enough ContraPest to accommodate any such requests coming in.Dyer was working hard on modifications that would make the formula work in a variety of different milieu, and projecting alterations for different species. Mayer was preparing for a deluge of satisfies. While ContraPest has been effective in every experiment SenesTech has run in so far, there is a lot still to learn about how rats in different parts of the world will provide responses in it in the wild.

It sounds crazy: a banding of animal loversand firemen in the hills of Arizona, led by a Buddhist girl scout, making a pinks milkshake for rats that may eventually improve the lives of millions of people. They are unruffled by scepticism: In the middle of one interrogation, Mayer forgot a detail and yelled towards the door, Cheryl, who said to you, Thats exactly not how we do it? Dyer hollered back from the other area. Which day? In answer, they point to hard discipline, solicitations from governments and companies around the world, and an promotion from Stephen Hawking, who featured them on his documentary mini-series Defy New World.

Rats are so longstanding a danger to humanity that seeing an cease to the rat question and one that does not require us to kill them seems like a fantasize. They are, as Mayer herself applied it, a most successful species than us. Long after were moved, they will still be here. But the possibility of a peace seems closer than ever before. The answer in the future may lie wholly within biotechnology, answered Corrigan when I asked for his impressions.( He and Mayer consider themselves allies in awareness-raising campaigns to make sustainable solutions to the rat question. Mayer fondly recalls a nighttime rat safari she formerly took with Corrigan in New York .) The SenesTech product is a breakthrough, but it is still at the exceedingly infancy theatres of biotechnology for this species, Corrigan enunciated. This is going to be perhaps years of refinements and changing and experimentations. Were not moving yet. And were certainly not running.

Mayer, Dyer and their crew seem joyful at the prospect, and self-confident that they are doing the work of the future. Do you see this? requested Ali Applin, a senior member of SenesTechs staff. We were sitting in Mayers office, and Applin pointed to a little sign on the coffee table that read Make it so.

This is what she tells us, Applin said.

Mayer gestured, smiling. Thats what you need to do. I intend, why squabble over something and tell, I cant do that. Constitute it so. Find a practice. Theres always a way.

After a moment, she had another pondered. Youre genuinely gonna “re going to have to” do that, Ali, when you take this to Argentina soon. If we pondered Laos was hard I represent, my God. She grinned mischievously and folded her mitts together and pressed them to her forehead and replied a mantra. I wish you ease on the path to peacefulnes. I wish you an outcome to your suffering.

Follow the Long Read on Twitter at @gdnlongread, or sign up to the long read weekly email here.

This article was enhanced on 20 September 2016. An earlier version incorrectly was also pointed out that DDT is the active ingredient in Agent orange, and were of the view that C difficile is a virus.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

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[inkstainedhan]

the other party: identity

some musings on who they are, as written by sonja ilsyth

Notes on my companions:

Taenion Naralthar is a snow elf of 147 years old. Snow elves are a rare variant on the elves most are familiar with, found in the northern reaches of Istralar. Taenion’s tribe, though he’s said little of them, seem to be located in the northern reaches of Iskaldhal. He apparently left his tribe shortly before he reached adulthood to function as a link to the outside world, but he’s always been vague on the specifics of his true purpose. He’s an expert with natural magic, particularly that related to ice and water, and prefers to stay out of close combat if possible. He and Tyrik have a particularly close bond due to their longer partnership - both were also members of a previous adventuring party that fell apart after the deaths of all members but them. Bringing this up to Taenion is a fantastically horrendous idea. Taenion also seems to have an incident in his past involving the drow, as mentioning the historical enemies of his kin is one of the fastest ways to infuriate him. Personality-wise, Tae is wise and logical, with practiced dexterity and an intelligence beyond his years. He acts somewhat like a mother stereotypically does, restraining us from doing anything too ridiculous. He loves warm and mildly spicy food and drink, but detests anything too hot, and describes cold food as ‘bearable, but not pleasant’. He’s fine with nearly any level of cold, but becomes uncomfortable in the warmth, a fact Esran likes to play with. He likes to wear full-length robes not unlike those of a wizard, which often causes him to be accused of wizardry - he shows hints of mischeviousness when he transforms into a bird (or similar) to prove that he is, in fact, a druid. He seems to enjoy being alone, and will often wander away from the group if he’s certain that we’ll be fine. Tyrik has threatened to put a monitoring collar on him. This is likely a good idea.

Tyrik Reiduln is a stout dwarf of 68 years old, hailing from the central region of Iskaldhal. Iskaldhan mythology, and indeed most Dwarven myth, claims that this region is where the dwarves first broke free of the earth, marking those from near the crater as the oldest families and tribes of all dwarvenkind. Like Taenion, Tyrik is rather vague when talking about his home. He instead likes to ramble on about differences in crafting styles, the power of Torag, exact specifications of metals and similar minutae. As mentioned, he was previously a member of another adventuring party - he was the one to tell us of them, and let us know about their untimely deaths. He and Taenion are similarly wise, but Tyrik is far more built around strength than dexterity, and he’s less focused on book-smarts. If Taenion is the group’s mother, he’s the group’s father, preferring to teach and chastise after the fact, stepping in when necessary and restraining Tae when the elf is being too restrictive. He loves any kind of alcohol and welcomes warm, spicy meals, showing a characteristic distaste for anything too leafy. He seems to be happy at any temperature, and feels more at home when beneath the surface, but dislikes being at sea, as there’s no connection to the earth. He tends to wear full suits of armour, or at least proper clerical robes and medium plate, wielding axes or hammers as suits the occasion. As one of Torag’s faithful, he can always be found with a holy symbol of some sort, and his clothing tends to be at least trimmed in Torag’s colours. His favourite haunts are pubs and bars, and he delights in taking Esran and Kesia out for drinking nights. For reasons unknown, he despises small dogs. Esran insists that this is proof that Tyrik, and by extension all dwarves, are goblins in disguise.

Kesia Raahiri is a 21 year old suli woman, originally from the western reaches of Takawaoku. Her culture dictates that all young adults must prove themselves to be worthy of continuing on the tribe, and with her genie heritage awakening, she left home to find glorious wealth and power to bring back one day, and found herself loving the adventurer lifestyle so much that she now just sends gemstones and trophies back occasionally. Her hometown is apparently a small place, a little human settlement that regularly trades with the nearby gnomish towns. When her heritage first emerged, it was these gnomes that helped her family realise what was happening, as they’d kept far better records. Her mother was the one to teach her how to fight, and she makes a habit of yelling battlecries taught to her by said mother in the larger fights. And in the smaller ones, and when we’re on stealthy missions. I have silenced her in the past for this. She’s very strong and decently charismatic, but seriously lacks both smarts and common sense. Particularly the former. She loves overspiced food and drink, alcohol in general, anything meaty and anything similar to what she remembers from her youth - in addition to a general love for food. As our group’s main fighter, she’s usually in full armour with a weapon at the ready - which is, most of the time, a longsword, but she does like to switch on occasion. She and Esran are quite close, with the two having a near sibling relationship thanks to their outsider blood. I also consider her to be a close friend. Kesia likes, above all things, being able to take down her enemies in an impressive manner, whether that manner be humiliation, attacks, or simply drinking them under the table, and she boasts an impressively high fortitude for drinking to prove that last point. She detests having to be overly ‘girly’, citing it as something she’s never had to do, and protested wearing a ballgown for two solid weeks before I was able to convince her otherwise. Overall, she has a fairly sunny disposition unless you anger her or hurt one of her friends, at which point she’ll grow nearly as angry as a raging barbarian.

Esran, no last name given, is a 72 year old ifrit who has fully embraced his fiery nature, quite literally. He’s a sorcerer whose bloodline truly stems from his outsider background and he has no qualms about proving that, throwing flame about as easily as Tyrik might throw a snowball. His past, however, is shrouded in mystery - about all he’s let slip is that he spent most of his childhood in the Sunari Wilderness. His skin bears a myriad of faint scars that seem to hint at a rough past, but this isn’t surprising - the Wilderness has never been known for its lawful nature, and Esran seems to enjoy provoking anyone he can’t get to sleep with him into a fight. His charisma is on par with mine, and as such, we’re a deadly force when combined. He also manages to move with artful grace and dexterity - something honed, allegedly, by his sexual prowess. Unsurprisingly, he’s not the most perceptive of individuals, but can still pull some gems of knowledge when needed. As a mage, he focuses on a mixture of damage-dealing and controlling the battlefield, working with Taenion (and myself, of course) to ensnare our foes in plantlife that then bursts into flame, creating easy targets for Tyrik and Kesia. The battlefield is one of the only places we ever see him taking things seriously, however - he’s usually very happy-go-lucky, and he likes to amuse himself by goading Tyrik and Kesia into drinking contests, or by playing various games with us, one of his favourites being Truth or Dare. He’s effectively our group’s troublemaker. He’s another fan of spices, also loving dry food, teas, and coffee. He’s actually surprisingly good at cooking, which is a shame as Taenion refuses to touch half of what he makes (and the remaining half is only after myself and Tyrik have both tried and given the thumbs up to Esran’s latest creation) due to his strange cuisines. Esran’s usually clothed in the most revealing outfits he can manage without coming off as a stripper, which tends to involve robes ‘accidentally’ left untied, or unbuttoned shirts. He likes to leave his hair slicked back, but it’s naturally fairly spiky and tries to mimic flames, flicks of actual flame included. Of our group, he’s the most outwardly bizarre looking. He calls it a blessing, as it means ‘the ladies are always curious!’, but.. well, it’s drawn enough attention that it could quite easily be a curse, too.

Finally, myself. Sonja Ilsyth, 19 years old, native of Valathe. I’m from the south-western area of the Empire, specifically a small coastal town. I enjoyed a comfortable life as the only daughter of my home’s mayor until a freak tidal wave struck whilst I was studying elsewhere, rendering me homeless. My powers of enchantment grew quickly after that, and I used them to find shelter, housing and friendships as I developed my skills and eventually left to adventure. Taenion insists that my powers are unnatural, and that I should keep quiet about them, so I usually pass myself off as a bard or sorceress. As previously mentioned, I’m extremely charismatic, and thus this usually goes well. Compared to the party, I’m another dextrous and intelligent member, though I like to be closer to the action. I focus on manipulation, interrogation, hidden strikes and subterfuge over Kesia’s style of loud frontal attacks, and it’s gotten me far. My tastes are far milder than my companions’, but I’ll try whatever’s given to me so long as at least one other sane person has vouched for it. I tend to wear tasteful robes and light armouring underneath - the mixture of beauty with defence is one that’s worked for a long time. Just as Tyrik never is seen without his Torag symbol, I also bear an amulet few see me without - a simple silver amulet that I’ve had enchanted with a few protections. It was given to me by a dear friend long before I met my current friends, and has rested around my neck ever since. Just as Esran enjoys his games of seduction, so do I, though mine often end in frustration for my object of affection as I rarely feel like carrying out my teasing to the end. He and I aren’t together - Tyrik and Taenion are the only two vaguely in a couple, and even then, it’s unclear - but we’ve spent many a night in each other’s company, occasionally involving Kesia as well. Our mix of fire seems to match well.