#(we adopted Karma together he’s FINE)

[lovereadandwrite]

my bby has done nothing wrong ever in his 1000 years of life THIS IS SLANDER !!!😩😬

[heaven-s-black-box]

Wright Anything Agency + Prosecutors Office= Chaos chpt.1

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Recovery date: May 25th, 2020

Description: The WAA's air conditioner breaks during an LA summer, so they go to the only place they can think of... the prosecutors office. Chaos ensues led by the youngest members of the Wright and Edgeworth families.

Notes: A entry series involving a descendant of a traveler, following the death of her mother it was determined Sky would be better off staying with Miles Edgeworth. This is an OC insert, the fantastical technobabble is just for looks

Related works: Miles adopts Sky, Trucy meets Sky

Chapters: 1 2 2.5 3 4 5 5.5

Word count: 2 452

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June 21st 7:26 A.M Hey Miles So I was wondering, can the wright Anything agency  borrow some of the prosecutor office space? We uh, can’t really use our office rn It’s kind of a safety hazard Miles 7:35 A.M What on earth are you on about Wright? What’s wrong with your office? 7:36 A.M AC’s down Gonna get wayyyy too hot So What do you say Miles 7:36 A.M How did your air conditioner break? 7:39 A.M … long story? Trucy Miles 7:40 A.M No Find somewhere else to go Work never gets done when your children are involved And why don’t you just get it fixed? 7:45 Apparently a bunch of ACs decided to die Can’t get to us till end of the week So this is more can we stay for the whole  We Week Miles 7:48 Still no. 7:50 Fine Enjoy babysitting! :) Miles 8:25 A.M WRIGHT! I told you you couldn’t work here! So why are your children employees here? 8:26 A.M Klavier said Apollo could work with him since  they’re on a case together, Athena pestered  Blackquill till he caved, and Trucy’s there  cause the other two are there So! Can I come work in your office? Miles 8:27 A.M Fine. But only so you can keep them in line. 8:28 A.M Great! I’m on my way up! Miles 8:28 A.M What do you mean “On your way up”?

Not long after sending his question, there was a knock at his door. With a reluctant sigh he called for the person to enter and as expected, it was Wright. The smirk on his face told Edgeworth he’d been waiting. Of course he was. He knew the other prosecutors would let their favored agency members stay here for the week. The only person who would object was Edgeworth himself and all Wright had to do was give him a less favorable option than sharing his office. His two options now were A) Babysit his usual group of children plus the Wright Anything agency himself, or B) Share his office with Wright and have help babysitting. There was only one logical answer.

“Don’t worry, we’ll behave.” Wright had taken a seat on the couch, taking his papers out on the coffee table. So he’d actually brought his work? That didn’t mean he intended to do it. “Our AC is seriously broken. We just need a non-lethal place to work, and the prosecutor’s office seemed like a good idea.”

Edgeworth sighed, “I can’t help every defense agency out like this. What makes you so special?”

“Hmm…” Wright looked like he was thinking about it, but Edgeworth knew he wasn’t. “Boyfriend privileges,” he shrugged.

Edgeworths face turned slightly pink, “That won’t always work. And just so you know, the only reason I haven’t kicked you out yet is because there isn’t anything big this week. Sky and Franziska are flying in tomorrow,” Wright shuddered at the thought of Franziska, “and I believe prosecutor Sahdmadhi and detective Skye are here for work purposes starting Thursday.”

“Well…” Wright still seemed to be trying to do work, Edgeworth’s suspicion didn’t budge. Wright was always up to something, “It’ll be nice to see Prosecutor Von Karma again,” Liar, “And I’m sure Apollo will be happy to see prosecutor Sahdmadhi again.”

Edgeworth nodded and returned to his laptop. He had quite a bit of work to finish before his daughter and sister’s return, as he’d promised to spend time with Sky. When she’d left with her aunt, he’d been very busy and hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. To make it up to her, he agreed to a movie night when she got back. It’d also be nice to have a runner in the building again. Usually during breaks, when she wasn’t abroad with her father or aunt, she’d help out around the office. This ranged from running papers between prosecutors or the Wright Anything agency, to making sure everyone ate and left at semi-decent times. It was like her part time job. 

They sat together in silence for quite a while. The only sound was the scratching of Wright’s pen on paper and Edgeworth tapping on his laptop. Edgeworth’s unease about having the Wright Anything agency around had slowly started to disappear. It helped that Wright kept checking his phone to check in with the others. He had to admit that working with Wright like this was nice. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad.

And then the phone rang…

---

“So herr forehead, why can’t you use the agency again?” 

“The AC broke,” Apollo mumbled, he was looking over evidence for his case tomorrow. 

Simon, who was feeding Taka, looked over, “Did Wright-dono forget to pay the bill?” Athena snickered and Trucy, who had been practising card tricks, stopped.

“No… it wasn’t daddy’s fault. This time.” Apollo smiled at this and Athena covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “I was working on a new magic trick with Athena… and it sort of didn’t work.”

“And this is why we have a “no fire tricks in the agency”  policy,” Apollo hummed and passed a paper over to Klavier. 

Simon and Klavier had offered to let them work in their offices, but they’d declined because they did actually need to get work done. In fact, Mr. Wright had only agreed to let them work here (instead of the library) if they agreed to get actual work done. Athena had immediately gotten defensive because “we always do our work” and Apollo just sighed. Mr. Wright did have a point, it seemed outside of court, they never got work done. So, they’d decided to work in the cafeteria away from distractions, Apollo’s idea. Then the distractions decided to join them, Klavier’s idea. However, it’d been about an hour and they’d been working fine.

They were sitting together around a table. Trucy was working on card tricks for the most part, and Apollo and Klavier were working on their case. While Simon was doing paperwork for his case that ended yesterday, and Athena was playing with her mood matrix. It was surprisingly quiet, didn’t they have more prosecutors? A few people had come in for coffee, but the office always seemed too quiet. Klavier and Simon were doing their work on laptops while Apollo had to do it all by hand. He really needed a laptop.

“I’m booorrred, let’s take a break!” Athena piped up.

“Cykes-dono, you haven’t done anything yet.”

“Sure I ha-”

“Playing with your mood matrix doesn’t count,” Apollo grumbled looking up. “And we haven’t even been here for an hour.” He looked up at the clock, “okay, we’ve been here for a little over an hour. But you still haven’t done anything.” He felt a weight drop on his back.

“Come on Polly! Fifteen minutes, I’ll even help you guys after.” Trucy had draped herself over his back and was whining in his ear.

“Well then Fraulein,” Klavier leaned his chin on his hand and looked at Trucy, “ What do you propose we do?” 

---

“Chief prosecutor Edgeworth’s office, speaking? Yes?” Wright looked up at him. Edgeworth took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is that so?” Wright felt a chill run down his spine as Edgeworth glared at him. “Yes, I’ll tell him. I’ll also come down myself. No, don’t tell them.”

“Sooo… What was that about?” Wright had a feeling he knew, but he’d give his kids the benefit of a doubt.

“Come with me.”

Edgeworth stood up and headed towards the door. Wright quickly shuffled his papers together and headed to the door, tripping on the coffee table. So much for the benefit of the doubt, hopefully Edgeworth would let them keep working here for now. Although he had a feeling he was pushing it. He had no problem working in the courthouse library, but the others had asked the prosecutors. So, he figured he might as well ask Edgeworth. They took the stairs down to the first floor where the cafeteria was. Instead of entering right away, Edgeworth stopped at the door.

Confused, Wright leaned into the door. At first he heard nothing, but he knew something had to be wrong because Edgeworth was glaring daggers at the door. Then he heard the faint sound of metal hitting metal. It was followed by cheers and “You can do it!”. He stood up straight and shrugged.

“Sounds like your guys not mine.” He turned to Edgeworth who leveled him with a glare.

“Think again,” he growled as he pushed the door open quietly.

Once they stepped inside, they were met with a cleared out space containing a fight. There was an audience as well made up of prosecutor Gavin, Trucy, Kay Faraday, and Godot who was off to the side watching and drinking coffee. They had their backs to the door and were instead watching Athena and Simon have a sword fight. Since when could Athena use a sword? Off at one of the other tables was Apollo trying to do work still, as always, and closer to the door was Sebastian Debeste. There were even some prosecutors Phoenix didn’t recognize poking their heads through the other door. They ducked out though as soon as they spotted the chief.

“Prosecutor Debeste,” Edgeworth spoke as he approached the other, “what is going on?”

“Ah!” Sebastian was startled and clamped his hand over his mouth, “Mr. Edgeworth! I uh… I’m not sure. This just didn’t seem very safe.” Edgeworth nodded and walked past him.

“It appears I was wrong to assume I didn’t need to make a rule against sword fights.” He stepped up to the group and everyone stopped. Wright swore he saw souls leave bodies once they noticed him. 

“Hi Mr.Edgeworth!” Kay cheered, she clearly had no fear of Edgeworth.

At this Apollo looked up and took an ear plug out of his ear. Noticing Wright and Edgeworth he sighed.

“Told you,” he called over to the group, returning to his work. Everyone else, minus Kay who was smiling and Godot who was snickering, hung their heads in shame. 

“I believe you all still have work to do. I hope I don’t need to respond to another call like this, if I do, there will be consequences.” He turned towards Godot, “I’d expect more of the oldest person in the room.”

“You expect better behavior from a convict then a bunch of lawyers? Geez how bad behaved are these kids?”

“He said oldest, nothing to do with whether you’re a convict or not,” Wright said from by the door. He hadn’t moved, mostly because he was still trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. As a boss and father he should scold them, he just wasn’t sure how.

They all stood in silence for a bit until Edgeworth turned and left. So he was leaving Wright to clean up? He could do that.

“Well, I’m going to look at my crime scene once more before tomorrow,” Apollo said, getting up.

“No you’re not,” Wright turned to him, “help put the tables back. Then Athena, Trucy, and you are coming to talk to me.” Then the arguing started.

“Why me?” Apollo asked.

“Well you didn’t exactly try to stop us, Polly.”

“Look at that, Trite grew a pair,” Godot started laughing and Wright frowned at him.

“Well what about the prosecutors? And Kay and Sebastian didn’t do anything to stop us!” Athena whined.

“Well I’m a thief! Not a lawyer.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t technically work here.”

“I’m sure we'll have to face herr Edgeworth later, or he’ll just give us a bunch of paperwork.”

“This is your fault for humoring Wright-chan.”

“You agreed to have a sword fight with the Fraulein!”

“Okay everyone stop! Just clean up, Edgeworth can deal with the prosecutors and Kay. And I’m pretty sure Sebastian was the one who told the receptionist. Now hurry up so we can apologize to Edgeworth.” There was a course of whining and someone muttered snitch. “If you really don’t want to apologize that’s fine,” Wright turned and headed to the door patting Sebastian on the shoulder, “I’m sure the courthouse library won’t mind us working there for the week.”

---

Edgeworth returned to his office before Wright as he’d left his partner to pick up the mess his children had made. Although he’d never call them that out loud, he did think of them as his children. Mostly because they kept causing him trouble. Taking a seat at his desk, he opened his laptop back up and checked the weather briefly. It was supposed to rain tomorrow, but nothing too bad. He could expect his sister and daughter back that evening. Turning Back to his work, he decided if Wright wasn’t back in half an hour he’d call to make sure he was actually picking up the mess. 

We've been here so long... Still I remember the rainy September, Contact. Two, four, one, ten. Two four, one, ten. Am I transmitting? Is anyone listening? Contact.

He stopped typing and looked at his phone. She changed his ringtone for herself again, he sighed. She also knew better than to call him during work hours. Still, he picked up.

“Shouldn’t you be having dinner?” He smiled. “Oh? Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow. I miss you too. Well try to get some sleep, you don’t want to be too tired. Are you at an airport, I thought you two were leaving later. No- don’t change the sub- Yes. I did notice, please stop changing my ringtone. Alright, I love you too. Goodbye.”

“Sky?”

Edgeworth jumped and looked up. Wright was standing in front of him with a smile on his face. So he’d managed to get everyone back to work had he?

“Yes. I’m assuming everyone went back to work?”

“Took some effort but once I said we’d have to work in the court house library if they didn’t stop, they cleaned up real quick. Your prosecutors didn’t want to incur anymore wrath so they weren’t too picky, except Godot… Why is he here again? Isn’t he still serving time.”

“Prosecutor Godot, much like prosecutor Blackquill, still has a job to do,” Edgeworth looked over at his laptop to see Wright settling back down. Wright shrugged at this. “And what’s wrong with the court house library?”

“They can’t play around as much,” Wright hummed, not looking up from his work.

“Well, let's hope the rest of this week isn’t anymore chaotic.” Really, he shouldn’t have said that.

[cow-smells]

Eli/Hawk x Reader: Changes

Request: Can you do a Hawk x reader where they are dating since a long time and y/n tries to handle with his change from Eli to Hawk? @sophiahardy912

A/N: Thought I’d write all cutesy lovey dovey fluffy smutty things but then this angst came out? sorry if i failed you idk what happened here

Words: 2054

Warning: A few cuss words

----

Eli wasn't... Eli anymore.

Not just in a metaphorical way – he was Hawk now, inside and out. At first it was a refreshing change – you loved Eli back when he was introverted and lacking in confidence, but now Eli loved himself, and that was surely better.

    Confidence is a good thing. Right?

You remembered the day he texted you 'Dig it?' attached to a photo of him – classic brunette gone, dyed down and gelled up to a Blue Mohawk.

The phrase 'dig it' by itself was previously foreign to the boy, so of course the new bold hairstyle was a big shock for you. Not a bad one, just unexpected. Even more unexpected was the new attitude that came with it.

When Eli walked up to you the next day at school, he adopted a strut that came with his new hair and attire. You almost didn't recognize him without one of the comfy sweaters he previously would wear, the ones you would steal borrow when you'd go over to his on date night.

    It had been a while since you had one of those date nights – Eli wasn't fond of spending too much time in public, always feeling like people were staring at his lip – so you'd often spend the night at his house, watching some horror movie late in to the night, laughing together at cheap, unconvincing productions. Or, even better – clinging to him when a movie really was scary, finding an excuse to casually entwine yourself around him. You loved how he would turn red every time, as though you haven't been together for a long time now.

The last date night you two had was... unusual, yet exciting all the same.

Eli had been Hawk for a while now, and things were taking a turn for the worse. At first it was nice – Eli would link your pinkie fingers together under the table at lunch, Hawk would put his arm around you as you two walked down the hallways between classes. Eli cowered when anyone would so much as look at him; Hawk would shut down anyone who tried to start with him.

You didn't mind it, so to speak, when he got in to a fight with his former bullies. You were worried, of course, but Hawk knew how to handle himself. He beat the shit out of them and after years of Kyler and co taunting him, it felt like fair karma at play. You were actually proud. Hawk came home on cloud nine that day and you were all for being his cheerleader; it ended up being a night of great celebrations.

However, these days he was getting exceedingly violent with anyone who would look at him wrong. It was one thing paying back those who wronged him, but the whole karate thing was getting out of hand; it came to a red line for you once you saw his treatment of Demetri, the only one other than you and Miguel who accepted him far before he accepted himself.

You two had gotten in to a serious argument, Hawk stating that Demetri's treatment is his own doing for being such a nerd, you telling him to grow up.

A couple of days went by with you giving him the silent treatment. Hawk thought he'd just slide in by you the next day at lunch, kiss you and everything would be fine – but you weren't having it. If he didn't mind throwing Demetri under the bus so quickly, how long until that was you instead?

Not talking to Eli proved harder to do than you thought. After so long together it was strange, suddenly having this wall between you two. It had only been a couple of days of you riding the bus to school rather than on his motorcycle with him and you already felt an insistent pit in your stomach that refused to go away, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself with schoolwork and your other friends.

So unsurprisingly, when Hawk texted you asking you to meet him at an unfamiliar address, you agreed.

It was dark out – the only people you saw around the road you were going down were a couple of shady looking dudes, only obviously under the influence.

You checked your phone again to make sure you were going the right way.

    “You made it!”

Eli's voice startled you, making you look up from your phone. Illuminated by the blue florescent lights from the shop he stood outside of, he seemed... relieved.

    “Yeah,” you answered simply, your eagerness to make up disapparating in to an unconfident hesitation. “what are we doing out here?”

    “Look,” Hawk took one of your hands in his. “I don't wanna lose you. And if that means being nicer to Demetri or whoever of those dorks, whatever. I can live with that. But not without you.”

You hated how he knew exactly what to say, even if it wasn't prefect. It was enough.

    “You didn't answer,” you said, allowing a flirtatious tone to creep up. “What are we doing here?”

Eli smiled, a smile that was more Hawk than Eli, and pulled you in to the shop after him, knowing he was well on his way to winning you over.

    “This is my guy, Rico,” Hawk introduced, fist bumping the older man. Between the familiar name, funny looking chair and sketches on the walls, you knew exactly where you were and what was about to happen.

    “Eli?” you tentatively called as Hawk guestued for you to sit in a chair behind the funky-looking one. Rico adjusted said chair and motioned for Hawk to come over. Eli sat on the chair, his back to you.

    “You sure about this?” Rico asked, preparing ink on a side table. “Sure,” Hawk answered confidently.

Naturally, your curiosity got you up on your feet towards Eli's other side – of course you wanted to know what he was getting inked – but Hawk quickly protested.

    “Stay over there!” he scolded playfully. “It's a surprise.”

The machine started buzzing and even though it wasn't you who was getting anything done, adrenaline started rushing, making you a giddy mess, forgetting all about your previous fight. As needle pierced skin, you spent the time waiting making assumptions over what Hawk was getting on him – at first you guessed the Cobra Kai snake, later guessing Sensei Lawrence in a heart – a suggestion that made Eli laugh particularly hard, in that way that he used to laugh when it was just the two of you (this earned a scolding from Rico, who couldn't get the work done if his canvas was jittering about).

It must have been twenty minutes at best before Hawk rose from the chair and turned to you, gesturing to the new piece over his heart – a heart with your name in it.

Was it possible to have your heart sink and jump simultaneously? On the one hand, you were realistic, and there would probably come a day where he'd regret this – a thought that made you sick. On the other hand, it was the most romantic thing you've ever experienced, and it was unlikely for anyone else to ever top that.

What was done was done, so you shoved aside any negativity and allowed yourself to revel in the love you felt, showering Hawk with kisses that quickly turned in to a deep, longing kiss – until Rico politely suggested you take the show elsewhere.

    Apparently “being nicer to Demetri” meant ignoring him altogether, besides some threatening looks. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the alternative, so you let go of it despite it seeming like Hawk was constantly on the edge.

You were ready for another date night – the first since the tattoo parlor – ready to get away from school and its drama, just to spend some quality time with your boyfriend.

Now that he wasn't shy anymore, he suggested going to see a film in an actual movie theatre, which was exactly what you were doing.

The two of you split up – you needed to go to the bathroom so Hawk stood in line for tickets. By the time you had come out you had lost sight of your boyfriend – the crowd around the ticket stalls had suddenly increased.

    “You looking for someone?” a male voice asked. Turning around, a couple of guys you didn't know were approaching you. “Think you'd have more fun with us.”

Just as they reached you, a hand grabbed your arm. You were relieved to turn and see Eli – but he wasn't even looking at you. His eyes were locked with one of the guys – you could feel the tension in the air.

     “Eli, no,” you whispered firmly. His grip on you tightened, moving you aside – but you weren't going to stand for it. You stepped in front of him, grabbing hold of him as he did to you. “You start something, I walk.” your voice was low, not wanting those guys to hear, but serious enough to make Hawk understand you weren't playing around.

With a grunt, he looked down at you, took your hand and walked away.

You optimistically thought the worst was blown over.

You and Hawk were waiting outside the theatre to be let in, chatting away when Hawk stopped you mid sentence with a kiss.

Another pleasant surprise about Eli's newfound confidence was how willing he was to show affection to you publicly, while before you two could pass off as acquaintances at best.

It was rather random but you accepted the kiss – even when he deepened it, getting closer to you, pulling you closer to him.

His hands started sliding lower.

It wasn't anything you haven't done in the privacy of your bedrooms, but to get that intimate in public, in broad daylight – it was too much for your liking.

    “Eli -” you called, pushing away from him. He didn't allow it.

Pulling your hips to his with one hand on your bum, his other went up to hold your chin, tilting it back to grant him access. He managed to hold you for a moment before you mustered up the power to push him a few steps away from you.

    Hawk was visually surprised – whether because of you or himself, you were unsure.

    “What the fuck was that?” you asked, not bothering to keep your voice down this time.

Despite trying so hard to become this new person, new Eli still had old Eli's tells – and a quick glance he threw aside told you everything you needed to know.

Following his line of sight, the two guys from earlier stood there, watching the scene unfold.

    “So that's what this is about?” you huffed. “some territory marking thing?”

Hawk struggled to gather his words, his bottom lip bobbing wordlessly a couple of times before he spoke. “Look, you didn't want me to take care of it out there, so-”

     “So you do whatever you want with me? Like I'm nothing?”

    “Y/n, you know it's not like that-”

    “So what is it like?”

When Hawk didn't immediately respond, you turned on your heel to the exit. Hawk followed you outside.

    “Come on, Y/n, you know I'd never hurt you!”

    “You just did!” you yelled back. “you... I don't know you anymore, and I say that in the worst way.”

    “What,” Hawk huffed, “you want me to go back to being a pansy? 'Cause that's not going to happen.”

    “You know what's the worst out of all this?” you asked, coming to face Hawk. “at first I thought it was cool, you being all tough. Seeing Kyler become afraid of you. I thought it was great. But now... Now I'm afraid of you.”

Hawk frowned, the realization dawning upon him. “C'mon...” he lifted his shirt to show the heart tattoo dedicated to you. “Doesn't this mean anything to you?”

    “Make it mean something.” you replied with a heavy heart, taking a step back and left, leaving Hawk standing alone in the parking lot.

[kagayakukagavaku]

Cat Zane AU pg 9-10

Ninjago- Cat Zane AU. Chapter 1- The Start of it All Kagayaku Kagavaku CH :3

Page 9

SLAM! “Lloyd!” Jay closed the door to Lloyds room behind him. He inhaled and exhaled to slow his breath.

Lloyd was instantly startled by Jays sudden appearance. He paused Minecraft on his computer and looked up. “What happened?!”

“I might have… gone too far with a prank… Just a little bit though! Not too much… I may or may not be in big trouble…”

Lloyd smirked, “Why are you coming to me about this?”

“Wu put you in charge! Just… don’t let them tell him about this! Okay?”

Lloyd pointed with his thumb down towards his bed, “You mean this?”

Jay looked over to where he was gesturing, there was a trip wire trap hooked up to the bed. Jay instantly grabbed his shirt collar again.

“Don’t worry, I noticed it before triggering it. Was it supposed to turn on that camera to video record me getting dunked with cold ice water?” He grinned to himself like he had solved the worlds biggest mysteries.

“W-well… I mean ya… That was a prank I was going to pull. But I was talking about-”

Scratch scratch scratch. The two looked towards the door. Jay sighed, “that.”

“You adopted a cat?????” Lloyd looked excited for a minute.

“Um… not exactly.”

“Then…?” Lloyd got up to open the door.

“WAIT! I-!”

Lloyd opened the door a little.“Yup. Sensei is going to ground me forever.” Jay thought about all the angry letters sent not so far in the past by Wu. Multiple times he was told “If you keep doing pranks I’ll have to punish you with chores!” or “Stop the pranks Jay. Unless you want extra tough training!” or worse of all, “If this gets worse or keeps up, I’ll be grounding you.” (that one was from yesterday) Of course none of these have happened, and eventually Jay started to just ignore them, but now was the time more than any to be scared of what Master Wu would do if he got angry enough. Page 10

Jay watched as Llyod said the famous word, “ZANE?!” 

“Eh heh…” Jay scratched the side of his head with guilt.

“So this is the prank you meant.” Lloyd said awfully loud.

“Llyod, NO!” Jay shouted.

“I knew it!” Nya appeared from down the hall, Cole and Kai were crossing their arms and glaring at Jay.

“Master Wu warned you so many times!” Kai grumbled, presumably still annoyed about the sandwich.

“Great. Not only is Jay getting karma, but now we all are! And poor Zane was the only one actually training!” Cole remarked unpleased.

“It’s fine! I know how to fix this!” Jay pointed upwards to hold up everyone.

“I hope so.” Lloyd looked amused at Zane, but deep down everyone knew he was completely stressed out since he was technically in charge.

“A-all we have to do is take the Cat.Exe chip out of the back of Zane’s head! Just pop the little rectangle opened and push on the chip! You know- like a Nintendo Switch cartridge!” It’s in the second slot!”

Everyone gathered around Zane, Nya spoke up, “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Zane looked at all of them. He seemed to be annoyed with everyone circled around him. Nya tried to approach the back of his head since she was the closest. As soon as she touched Zane’s head, he quickly turned around, and meowed like a fire truck. He sprinted on all fours, jumping over Nya’s shoulder and into another hallway. 

“Ah!” Nya turned quickly.

“After him!” Lloyd called, gesturing with his hand for everyone to move. They all sprinted in pure desperation. Jay to not be grounded and everyone else to not get yelled at.  As you may have noticed- I gave everyone an extra page today. Why? Because I feel bad for posting it so late LOL Not to mention I feel these pages go too well together to be stopped. Enjoy! Xp

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

C A L L  M E  C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others. 

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family. 

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning. 

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home. 

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts. 

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves. 

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did. 

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered. 

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help. 

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on. 

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down. 

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International. 

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road. 

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet. 

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles. 

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds. 

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff. 

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door. 

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it. 

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk. 

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it. 

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past. 

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half. 

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped  out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times. 

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene. 

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction. 

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. 

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.” 

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?” 

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway. 

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats. 

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze. 

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water. 

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing. 

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated? 

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine. 

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart. 

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh. 

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar. 

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant. 

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say  a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen. 

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted. 

**

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work. 

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction. 

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard. 

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged. 

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating. 

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat. 

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts. 

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface. 

When I came up, he was watching me. 

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it. 

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it. 

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders. 

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now. 

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry. 

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking. 

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat. 

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did. 

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly. 

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable. 

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others. 

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober. 

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred. 

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side. 

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely​ @sloanferg​ @ivanacats​ @mumplans​ @wastedsweetcreature​ @harryssugarhigh​ @wanderlustiing​ @sunflowers-styles​ @g0bl1nqueen​ @stepping-into-the-light​ @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie​ @harrys-cherrry​

[madasthesea]

Trope: May Dies

“Hey, Spider-Man,” Tony said, landing heavily on the roof he’d spotted Peter on.

Peter jumped. It was a bad sign he hadn’t heard the thrusters approaching—Tony wondered when the last time he ate was. How well he’d slept curled up in the corner of the rooftop, with what looked like a single blanket to keep him warm in the freezing Chicago wind.

Peter’s eyes were huge as he watched Tony step out of the suit.  

“How did you—you-you weren’t supposed to find me.”

Yeah, Tony knew that. The kid had been so careful as he snuck out of the hospital and onto the top of a greyhound bus. He’d kept his face hidden, he’d stayed in the dark. He hadn’t even gone back to his apartment to get clothes and whatever cash May might have had lying around.

“Why not?” Tony asked, tilting his head as he walked forward. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake Peter or hug him.

Peter opened his mouth, then looked away, over his shoulder to his battered backpack. Tony looked at it as well, looked the kid up and down, and decided the conversation could wait.

“You tried the pizza here yet?” Tony asked.

Peter blinked, then shook his head.

“Let’s get some pizza.”

 The pizza restaurant Tony picked was empty, which was why he had chosen it.

“Grab a table, kid,” Tony told Peter, then crossed to the bar, knocking on it until someone poked their head out from the kitchen.

After chatting with the chef and owner for a few minutes—and sliding them a couple hundred dollars as incentive to turned the sign on the door to closed, as least until Tony had left—Tony joined Peter at the corner booth he’d chosen. He understood the instinct to have something at your back, to be able to see every entrance, so he didn’t mention the choice, just slid into the red plastic booth.

Peter just watched him, looking apprehensive.

“Are you hurt, kid?”

Peter shook his head.

“Ok. I’m not even going to ask if you’re hungry, cause I’ve met you.”

Peter forced a half-smile. Tony hadn’t seen the kid this nervous since before the Vulture, more than eight months ago now.

While they were waiting for their food, Tony took the opportunity to get a good look at Peter, in the warm light of the pizza parlor.

He was pale, certainly. His cheeks were a little gaunter than Tony liked, and his hair greasier than Tony was used to seeing. Tony wondered if he’d had the chance to shower since he’d left New York.

The chef brought their food over and Tony let himself fuss a little bit, getting Peter a place and putting his straw in his water for him.

“Don’t eat too fast, you’ll make yourself sick,” he warned, and Peter looked up at him sharply. Tony didn’t know why he was surprised that he had put together that Peter had been living on the streets for the last several days.

Peter ducked his head, slowly eating his way through half the pizza.

Finally, after he put down his fork and knife, Peter cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you, Mr. Stark. Anyway, it was good seeing you and—”

“Peter.”

Peter stilled, closing his eyes.

Tony stirred his water with his straw, sighing.

“Let’s see if I’ve got the story straight,” he finally said, crossing his arms. “You get the call, you rush to the hospital and hear the news. They gave you, what, half an hour with May’s body?”

Peter flinched, sucking in a breath. His eyes were squeezed closed like he was in physical pain. Tony gave him a moment before continuing, his voice softer.

“And then the social services worker came to you and said they needed someone to call, an adult. Or it’d be CPS and a state sponsored grave for May. You panicked and gave them my number, waited until they left, and then you ran, went to the nearest bus station. Put your phone on a bus to D.C., your suit tracker on one to Philly—I got both of those back, by the way—and then came here. Why Chicago?”

Peter gave a one shouldered shrug, picking at a tear in the vinyl gingham tablecloth.

“Who would notice another homeless orphan?” He finally murmured, his voice so quiet Tony almost couldn’t hear him.

Tony clenched his jaw, gave an unhappy hum in response.

“So, what’s next? For you.”

“I got a job,” Peter said, a small gleam of pride in his eyes. Tony felt bad for dousing it, but he needed Peter to understand.

“Like a payroll job or a ‘thanks for helping, here’s ten bucks’ job?”

Peter frowned, his cheeks flushing. “It was fifteen,” he muttered, not looking at him.

Tony rubbed a hand down his face. Fifteen dollars might be enough to feed a single person for a day in a place like Chicago, but not someone with an enhanced metabolism. And who knew when the kid would get another break like that.

“Alright. Our arachnid friend ever gonna make an appearance?”

Peter bit his lip, glancing up at Tony. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of crime to stop, but I... might have to let go of the webs. Too distinct.”

“And when it starts dropping into the negatives, you still gonna be sleeping on that roof?”

Peter ducked his head in humiliation.

“I—I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“Jeez, Parker, I can’t even pretend to be ok with this anymore. If I hear you say one more thing like that I’m going to—I’ll spontaneously combust, I swear. Pete, you don’t have to do this.”

Peter’s jaw clenched and he looked away, out the window.

“What other choice do I have?”

Tony snorted a humorless laugh. “Are you kidding? Me, kid. You called me and I came. I haven’t slept in four freaking days cause I was losing my mind trying to find you, I can’t—I don’t understand. Remotely anything going on in that head of yours.”

Peter sniffed, drew a line in the condensation on his glass.

“I can’t stay in-in Queens. I can’t... I can’t keep the apartment, I can’t afford school. I’m not going into the system, Mr. Stark, I—I refuse.”

“Of course not. You’re coming home with me.”

Peter crumpled his napkin and threw it on the table in a burst of energy that made Tony jump. “I’m not a charity project, Tony!” He snapped.

Tony blinked in shock. “I know you’re—”

“I’m not leaving.”

Tony took a breath, tried to reign in his instinct to tell the kid he didn’t have a choice, to order him to obey. He thought briefly of the guardianship papers he’d filled out at the hospital, of the adoption papers his lawyer was already preparing, and wondered what Peter would say about them if he knew.

“Then neither will I,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension, settling back in the booth and holding his arms out. “I’ll just stay here, following you around like a weirdo. Someone will inevitably call the cops and I’ll get arrested for stalking a minor. I’m rich and famous so I’ll get out no problem, but I’ll be forever known as Stark the Stalker.”

Peter snorted, fighting to keep his scowl in place.

“Stalking Stark. That’s me. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Peter murmured. He seemed embarrassed by his outburst.

“Then come back with me,” Tony pleaded. “Not as a charity project, not because I... pity you, or anything, kid, but because the thought of you here, on your own, makes me—I can’t stand it, Peter.” Even saying it out loud made pain shoot down his left arm and he flexed his hand. Peter eyed him uncertainly, as if not sure he could believe him.

“I can’t go back to New York,” Peter whispered, his bottom lip trembling before he steeled himself.

It was progress, however small. Tony seized on it. “Fine, pick a state. Heck, pick a country. Are you a mountain or ocean person?”

“Tony.”

“The point is,” Tony said, reaching across the table and taking Peter’s hand to get his attention, “your room’s all ready, Pete. Or, if you secretly hate me, I’ll get you your own apartment, get groceries delivered, FRIDAY, the works. Anything. Anywhere. Just not this.”

Peter swallowed, staring down at the vinyl tablecloth.

“I don’t hate you.”

Tony pressed his thumb against the inside of Peter’s wrist.

“And I really don’t hate you. You’re one of the few people I really don’t hate, kid,” Tony said quietly, his mouth quirking up on one side. Peter breathed a short laugh, the plastic bench squeaking as he settled back against it.

Tony watched him chew on his lip for a few moments.

“Peter.”

The kid looked up, his expression equal parts hurting and hoping.

“You called me,” Tony reminded him. That was the part Tony really couldn’t understand: if this had been Peter’s intention the whole time, why would he give the hospital Tony’s number—the one person in the world who would, without a doubt, find him. No matter how long it took.

Peter’s bottom lip trembled and he scrunched his nose like that would successfully keep the tears back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I—I didn’t mean to use you for your money or anything, I just—I knew you would give her a good funeral.”

The air rushed out of Tony’s lungs in a rush and it was a moment before he could take another breath. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d thought Peter had just panicked and run without really thinking about it.

“Of course,” he said, trying to sound less surprised than he was. He took a breath, then scooted further down the bench so his and Peter’s shoulders were nearly touching.

“May and I had a lot in common, actually,” he continued softly, reaching a hand out and tipping Peter’s chin up with his knuckle. “We both think the world of Peter Parker.”

The first tear spilled over. Tony sighed, brushing it away, and pushed Peter’s bangs off his forehead. Peter watched him with a cautious yearning in his eyes.  

He thought about what he’d longed to hear when his parents died, when Jarvis went a few years later. He’d never really believed in Karma or divine punishment, but in the dark, alcohol tainted hours of the night, he would wonder if it was his fault.

“You don’t deserve this, buddy.”

Peter sucked in a breath like he’d been slapped. Then his face crumpled, a sob too-long forced down ripping from his throat.

HIs instinct was to curl up, hide his face. He crossed his arms on the sticky table top and went to bury his face in them, hiccupping gasps shaking his frame, but Tony intercepted him.

“Uh-uh. That’s what I’m here for, kiddo,” Tony murmured, pulling Peter into his arms and tucking the boy’s face into his neck. He curled his fingers into the short hair at the base of Peter’s neck and closed his eyes, his heart aching as Peter wept.

He let Peter cry himself out, sure that he hadn’t allowed himself to mourn, too focused on trying to survive. The poor kid had been orphaned, again, run away from the city he knew and loved, and was now sleeping on a rooftop in Chicago with fifteen dollars to his name.

As Peter’s tears began to taper off, Tony’s hand smoothing up and down his back, Tony paused his litany of gentle words to whisper, “Will you come back home, Peter?”

“Please,” Peter hiccupped. “Yes, please. Please.”

Tony clutched Peter to him a little tighter. “You don’t have to do these things on your own, buddy. I know you feel alone right now but you aren’t. I’m here. And I will not leave you.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, his voice nasally from crying. Tony felt him exhale a shaky breath against his throat.

Tony brushed his thumb along the knob of Peter’s spine in acknowledgment.

“I really don’t like Chicago.”

Tony snorted and pulled away, capturing Peter’s face in his hands, stroking his cheekbone.

“Me neither, kid. Let’s go home.”

[jobrookekarev]

Sweet Preteen

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 4000

Summary: When Zola acts out at her Birthday party and yells at Ellis. Meredith decides to present her with Derek's ferry boat scrub cap in the hopes that it will remind her of the girl Meredith and Derek love.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd, and Alex Karev/Jo Karev.

Characters: Meredith Grey, Zola Shepherd, Ellis Shepherd, Alex Karev, Jo Wilson Karev, Derek Shepherd, Amelia Shepherd, Maggie Pierce, and Lexie Grey.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Sisterhood, Fluff, Preteen Drama, Mother-Daughter Bonding, Adoption, Ferry Boat Scrub Cap, Derek’s in Flashbacks.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

Meredith looked around the backyard and smiled. She spotted Zola with her new friends over on the picnic table and smiled before going over and wrapped her arms around Zola’s shoulders. 

“Happy birthday, Zola!” She said, squeezing her shoulders and leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

Zola sighed and frowned as she pushed away from her Mom while her friends giggled around her. Meredith knew that she was the embarrassing Mom at that moment, but she couldn't help it. She smirked and let go of her, turning away so Zola didn’t see her smile fade.

As she got up, she looked around the rest of the backyard where all their friends and family were laughing and smiling. All the little kids, Bailey, Ellis, Scout, Harriet, Leo, and Allison all chased each other around. While the grown ups sat off to the side, talking amongst themselves. 

It was a mixture of a family party and a friend's party and Zola had finished opening presents and they were all enjoying the chocolate cake. Meredith thought it was working out pretty well until Zola came over and tapped on her shoulder. At ten years old Zola was only a head shorter than she was and Meredith could hardly believe how big her little girl was getting.

“Hey Mom, can my friends and I go to the park for a little while?” Zola asked, a begging smile on her cheeks.

“What's wrong with staying here?” Meredith asked, looking around to where Owen and Alex were pushing two of the kids on the swings as Ellis got a little too high and screeched. 

Zola grimaced as she followed Meredith’s sights. “There are too many babies around here.”

“Well I'm sure there'd be some babies at the park,” Meredith said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Please Mom, it's my birthday, can't my friends and I just go hang out with each other?”

“Zola, everybody here is your family and they're here to celebrate your birthday with you. I know you want to spend time with your friends, but your family is looking forward to this day with you too. Can’t you just hold off for a few more hours and then go to the park?”

“No Mom we want to go now,” Zola insisted, clenching her fists.

“Fine,” Meredith said, she knew what it was like to be young and too not want to hang out with parents and younger cousins. “But your Aunt Amelia and Uncle Link have to go with you.”

“Fine,” Zola relented her anger escaping like steam as she unclenched her hands. “But can Scout stay here?”

“I don't know, ask your Aunt Amelia?” Meredith said, gesturing over to where Amelia and Link were sitting on the bench.

“Aunt Amelia,” Zola shouted across the back yard. “Can you and Uncle Link take us to the park, but can Scout stay here with Aunt Jo?”

“Yeah, so long as Jo doesn't mind,” Amelia said right away, looking over at Jo who sat on the edge of the sandbox playing with Scout and Allison.

“Um, I guess,” Jo looked a little taken aback as her lips parted, but Alex quickly nodded.

“Yeah, don't worry about it, we'll keep an eye on him,” Alex said, joining Jo in the sandbox and tickling Scout's side as the baby shrieked with laughter and crawled away from him.

“Great,” Zola smiled as she and her friends quickly got up.

“I want to go too,” Ellis said running over and grabbing Zola’s hand.

“No,” Zola said shaking off her hand and scowling at Ellis. “No babies allowed.”

“I’m not a baby!” Ellis insisted, stopping her foot.

“Zola, Ellis can go with you if she wants too,” Maggie said trying to defuse the situation and placed her hand on Zola’s arm

“No, it’s my birthday. I get to do what I want!” Zola said, brushing off Maggie’s hand. 

“Ellis,” Meredith said, coming over and kneeling down in front of her. “Let’s let Zola play alone with her friends and we’ll go to the park with Zola tomorrow.”

Ellis sighed, looking down at her shoes as she kicked the grass. “She never wants to play with me.”

“I’ll try and talk to her,” Amelia whispered to Meredith. 

Ellis watched as Zola left with her friends and Amelia and Link, who trailed behind them. They all hoped that Zola’s reluctance to play with Ellis was just a phase brought on by her new friends. Meredith let out a sigh and went back into the house.

She knew that one day the moody preteen years would be upon her, but she didn't realize that it would be the year that Zola turned double digits. This was the beginning of it and she couldn't imagine it getting any worse. Although she had seen touches of it happening recently. Usually, Zola was such a sweet kid and didn't mind hanging around with her younger siblings, friends, and cousins. 

However, when Zola’s friends were over they always shut themselves up in her room and yelled at Ellis or Bailey if they tried to join them. At first, Meredith let them have their privacy. Understanding how the girls just wanted to play by themselves for a while, but recently it had escalated the point of the girls purposely excluding Ellis and making her cry. It was hard to imagine her sweet Zola, who was so excited to have a baby sister and always kiss her goodnight before they went to bed, could say something that made Ellis cry.

“Hey,” Alex said, bringing her out of her head as he walked into the kitchen. 

“How did this happen? Meredith said gesturing to the empty kitchen around her. “The minute she turns ten she turns into an annoying preteen who thinks she's too cool to hang out with her family.”

Alex just shrugged and walked over to sit on one of the stools. “Most kids don't like hanging out with their little siblings, especially when their friends are around. She's just trying to figure out how to be cool. Give her a couple of months and she’ll come around.”

“What if she doesn't, what if this is my life now? I mean she’s a preteen now. What am I going to do? I never had siblings like she did. I don't know how to deal with all this?” Meredith said as she shook her head and looked out the window to see Bailey and Ellis were still playing in the yard with Maggie and Winston. “And soon she’s going to start dating boys or girls!”

“Well she can't be any worse than you,” Alex said with a shake of his head with a smile. “But you and Derek figured it all out.”

Meredith smiled thinking about how it would be karma if Zola was as boy crazy as she was. Unfortunately for her, Meredith didn't get it together until she was a resident. She couldn't imagine watching Zola be boy crazy until she finished her residency. Then she thought about how Zola would soon be kissing boys or maybe girls. She didn't know for sure, but sometimes she caught Zola staring at Sofia when she visited and it made her wonder. That whole conversation of her daughter dating, she definitely wasn't ready for.

“Hey,” Jo said, appearing in the kitchen with Scout on her hip as he rubbed his eyes and Jo looked just as tired. “We're gonna head upstairs for a nap, I should be down in a few minutes, but can you go back out and push Ellis on the swing? She was asking for you.”

“Yeah, we'll head back out and I’ll come and check on you in a second, just in case you fall asleep too,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Very funny,” Jo said, coming over and leaning in to give Alex a kiss. “Thanks though.”

Jo disappeared into the hall to head upstairs and Alex watched her go as Meredith looked out the window. Ellis and Harriet were smiling and laughing as they chased each other around in circles. At five and four years old, respectively the two of them were best friends and nearly inseparable. She missed the days when things were simple and her children's emotions were displayed on their faces. 

Meredith just shook her head. She opened the cabinet on top of the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of tequila and two glasses. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Not tonight, Mere,” Alex said, setting her with a look, knowing that she was using alcohol to avoid her daughter's preteen attitude.

“What about Jo? She’ll want something,” Meredith decided, pouring another glass.

“Jo can't drink, she's pregnant,” Alex said, his words completely flying over Meredith’s head as she took a shot of her drink and poured another one.

Meredith finished pouring her drink and then went to put the top on the bottle, but froze halfway. She looked up and met Alex's eyes. He smiled widely as she finally processed what he had said. 

“Jo’s pregnant?” 

“Yeah,” Alex said with a laugh as he nodded, he seemed giddy at the thought of them finally having a child. 

“Congratulations,” Meredith said, coming around to give him a hug.

“Thanks,” Alex said, pulling back as Meredith said down on the stool next to him.

“With your luck though, the baby’s going to be born in your guys’ car,” Meredith said with a smile.

“Shut up,” Alex said with a smile and a little laugh. “We're doctors, we know what labor looks like, and we practically live at the hospital, besides she wants an epidural as soon as she goes into labor.”

“Yeah, she's taken care of enough screaming mothers to know what she wants,” Meredith said with a smirk remembering how Jo was complaining of an earache after a Mom screamed in her ear during labor last week. “And with your big Karev head, she'll probably end up tearing.”

“Don't tell her that,” Alex whispered, looking around to see if Jo had appeared in the hallway again.

“She's an OB now, she’s seen your baby photos, and she still agreed to have your kid, she knows what she's getting into,” Meredith said with a smile as she shook her head.

“Yeah, but you don't have to remind her about my big head,” Alex said with a grimace before his expression softened and he smiled. “Zola’s a good kid, she's got a good head on her shoulders. She's ten, most ten-year-olds are just trying to figure out how things work. She’s smart and she'll figure it out.”

“Yeah, I know,” Meredith said with a smile. “You and Derek are good at this stuff. Derek especially, he always talked about how he mediated things between his sisters and how he’d do it for our kids. It’s times like these when I miss him the most.”

“Derek was pretty good at that stuff,” Alex said with a nod, giving her a smile in return. “But you know what, you're pretty good at this stuff too.”

Meredith nodded and put the lid on the bottle of tequila, before putting it away. She knew what she wanted to say to Zola when she got back. Maybe it wouldn’t stop the preteen drama from continuing, but she knew it would remind Zola of the kind girl Meredith knew she was.

……………………………………………………………………

2014

Meredith laughed as she watched as three-year-old Zola put another band-aid over Derek's nose. Dr. Grey-Shepherd had taken her job very seriously and had insisted that her Daddy absolutely needed several Disney princess themed band-aids. So far Derek had one on both of his arms, his knees, and now his nose. The three of them were playing in the living room as Meredith and Derek spent some two-on-one time with Zola now that Bailey had gone down for the night.

“You know Zo Zo Daddy is doing much better. I really don't think I need this many band-aids.”

“But Daddy you're hurt,” Zola insisted as she placed the band-aid over the little bump Derek had gotten on his nose after Bailey whacked him with a toy. 

Zola had immediately ran to get the box of band-aids and had insisted on kissing her Daddy's boo boo better. 

“Alright,” Derek relented as he smiled and tilted his head at her.

Zola put a band-aid on his nose and leaned down ever so gently to kiss the band-aid and Meredith couldn't help but awe at the sight. Zola was always so caring and eager to kiss anyone better. She wished she could capture the sweet little moments and keep it in a bottle forever. 

Meredith was content to watch Zola and Derek play. As always Derek was wrapped around her little finger and anything she wanted, she got even if it meant a princess band-aid on his nose. Derek was completely focused on Zola as she held up her real stethoscope to his heart and he showed her where to put it so she could hear his heartbeat. Christina had said that Derek would be enchanted by Zola putting applesauce in her ear and Meredith believed it as she saw them play before her. They both ran off to get something, probably more things from Zola's doctor kit and Meredith waited for their return. 

“Okay go show Mommy how much of a proper surgeon you are,” Derek said, his hands on Zola’s shoulders as he gave her a gentle nudge forward. 

Zola ran over to her with this huge smile on her face as she stood before Meredith dressed in a pair of dark blue scrubs and Derek's ferry boat scrub cap tide on her head.

“Why hello Dr. Grey-Shepherd, you look very professional, are you getting ready for surgery,” Meredith said if she smiled at her little girl, to be honest, she was just as enchanted by Zola as Derek was. 

“Thank you, Mommy,” Zola beamed at her compliment, swaying back and forth a little bit as she held her hands behind her back.

Derek came over and put his stethoscope around her neck and she pulled it off to go find her teddy bear’s heartbeat. Suddenly Meredith got a glimpse of the woman that she would become and it made her heart both happy and sad. She was so happy to see the wonderful woman that Zola would be, but sad that her little girl wasn't going to be little forever. 

“I got the scrubs from Alex of all people,” Derek chuckled as he sat down beside her and they both watched Zola play.

“Yeah, that sounds like something Alex would get for her,” Meredith said with a smile and a laugh.

“I think I'll pass that scrub cap on to her when she’s ready.”

“Really?” Meredith said, looking up at him as he had eyes only for Zola.

“Yeah, you know in Medicine we always talk about passing on our skills to the residents, but it'd be nice to pass this on to her. She's going to make an amazing surgeon someday, just like her Daddy,” Derek smiled his eyes glazing over as if he was imagining it before him

“And like her Mommy,” Meredith added.

“Like both of us,” Derek agreed, looking back at her with a smile.

Meredith ran her fingers over the little band-aid on his nose as Derek winced. He probably could have gotten away with just a little bit of antibiotic cream but Zola had insisted on a band-aid. She believed they made everything better, like magic. 

“You're going to have to help me get this thing off later tonight,” Derek said as he gently pulled at the side of the band-aid, but stopped as it hurt too much to pull off.

Meredith giggled and shook her head as she looked back at Zola. “I think Daddy can keep it on for another day, besides Zola would be so disappointed if you took it off tonight.”

“But I have to work tomorrow?” 

“I know,” Meredith said with a smile as Derek shook his head and tickled her sides and she laughed. 

Zola came over and joined in on the tickling. The two of them ganged up on Meredith who retaliated with nimble hands of her own as she captured Zola and they each tickled her sides. The sounds of their daughter's laughter filled the room and Meredith smiled because both she and Derek lived for that sound.

“Stop, stop,” Zola eventually said, holding up her hands as Derek and Meredith immediately pulled back their fingers.

Zola laid in their laps for a moment as they all caught their breath and it took them each a while to control their laughter. Zola eventually turned her attention to her bear. Ever the willing patient as she started to listen to his heartbeat and excitedly told her parents about it when she found it. Derek put his arm around Meredith’s shoulders as she leaned her head into his chest as they watched their daughter play, completely enchanted by her. 

……………………………………………………………………

2021

Later that night Meredith knocked on Zola's door. It was long after the party had ended and everyone had gone home, but Zola’s friends had stayed for a sleepover and we're currently camped out in her room with popcorn and movies. 

“What!” Zola asked, opening the door just enough to stick her head out.

“Zola, can I talk to you?” Meredith asked, raising an eyebrow at her as she used her calm, but firm Mom voice. “I'd like to give you an extra present.”

“Yeah, okay,” Zola said, her voice softer as she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind

Meredith motioned for her to follow and together they walked down to her room. She closed the door behind them and Zola stood next to the door. Meredith opened the top drawer of her dresser and she pushed aside her socks to pull out a little box. Meredith knew that it was time she gave this one to Zola. She had two others that she would give to Bailey and Ellis when they were ready, but this one was always Zola's.

Meredith turned around and sat on the bed patting the spot next to her as Zola sat down. She put her arm around Zola and placed the box in her hands. Zola looked a little confused as she opened the box, but gasped when she saw Derek's ferry boat scrub cap. 

“Mom?” That was all Zola managed to say as she looked up at Meredith, her lips slightly parted and she looked back down at the scrub cap. 

“Your Dad loved you and from the moment he held you, he knew you were his daughter. He loved that ferry boat scrub cap and he told me that he wanted you to have it when you were ready,” Meredith said as she squeezed Zola’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. Zola turned in her arms and hugged her. “Your Dad would be so proud of the smart, beautiful, capable, and powerful young woman that you have become but with that power comes responsibility.”

“Are you trying to tell me I'm Spider-Man?” Zola asked with a smile.

“I'm trying to tell you to be nice to your siblings, but it's kind of like Spider-Man. He was a superhero and he was good to his neighborhood when he didn't have to be. We each make the choice to do good or bad things. We choose to do good things because we are responsible and kind, like hanging out with your sister. I know it was your birthday and you should be allowed to spend it however you want, but not if you are mean to Ellis. She’s your sister Zola, you shouldn’t shut her out, because she cares for you and loves you. Trust me, I spent far too long pushing away my sister, when all she wanted was to love me. I missed out on that extra love when I didn’t have to.” 

“Are you talking about Aunt Lexie?” Zola asked, she didn’t remember Lexie, but Meredith told her about Lexie as much as she could.

“I am,” Meredith said, smiled softly as she remembered Lexie. “Your Aunt Lexie wanted to love me and to know me as a sister, but it took me a year to let her. When I did though, I had a sister who was crazy like me and kinder than I was. It was so good and I grew to love her and I know you love Ellis.”

“I do love Ellis. I’m sorry, Mom, for everything. I talked with Aunt Amelia when we were at the park and I know I kind of acted like a brat earlier. I didn't mean to disappoint you or to hurt Ellis. I just wanted to hang out with my friends,” Zola said, giving a little shrug.

“Your birthday is about celebrating the day that you were born and your family, your sister wanted to celebrate that with you and you were kind of a brat,” Meredith said, raising her eyebrows at Zola. She pretended to be the strict parent for a moment before she dived in with her fingers, tickling Zola’s sides as they giggled together. 

They tickled each other for a moment until Zola cried uncle and Meredith pulled back. Zola looked at the scrap cap picking it up in her hands. Maggie had braided her hair into box braids that went down to her waist. She quickly brushed them behind her shoulder and wrapped them into a big bun at the base of her neck, before she put the scrub cap on. Then, she looked over at herself in the mirror and smiled. 

“I know I don't look like Dad or even Aunt Maggie, but wearing his hat it kind of feels like I do,” Zola said, turning back to look at her with a nervous expression. “Aunt Jo said that every time she looked down at the watch Ms. Schmidt gave her, she feels like a piece of Ms. Schmidt lives inside of her and I feel like I have a piece of Dad in me too especially with his scrub cap. Is that weird?” 

“No,” Meredith said, shaking her head. “You're wearing his scrub cap, you have dreams of being a neurosurgeon just like your dad. You love him and part of that love for him is inside you. A part of him that is represented by that hat.”

Zola’s smile returned as she looked back at herself in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders and sat up straighter. She didn't look any different than she did the day before, and to Meredith, Zola was still that little girl she fell in love with. But at that moment she looked so stunningly grown up. Zola turned around and hugged her and Meredith closed her eyes as she held her daughter. 

“Thank you,” Zola whispered against her shoulder, hugging her Mom tightly. 

Eventually, they settled down and Zola gave her one last squeeze before she got up. She paused in the doorway and looked back at Meredith. “Good night Mom, I love you and I love that you are my Mom.”

“I'm glad that you're my daughter, Good night Zo Zo.”

Zola closed the door behind her, but Meredith heard someone knock. She looked out in the hall only to see Zola step into Ellis’s room. Meredith smiled and relaxed, as she closed the door letting the sisters talk alone. She looked over at the pictures of her sisters, one of Lexie and one of Maggie and Amelia on her dresser. She was happy that her daughter had a sister like she did because at the end of the day they would always have their sisters.

[torishasupremacy]

langworth/dadworth au!!

basically lang and edgeworth are kay’s assigned divorced dads that slowly fall in love: the au. which I'm tagging as Kay’s Kin. spoilers for aa1-3 and aai1, tw for mentions of suicide and canon-typical violence. under the cut because this got LONG

okay, so after the events of aai1-4, the flashback case, edgeworth has a weird sense of deja vu as kay’s father was murdered in the courtroom, and now she doesn’t have anyone. so he decides to adopt this child, despite the fact that he knows nothing about children and is a complete pushover in regards to his 13 y/o sister

so he goes to detective badd, who has temporary custody over kay until he finds her more permanent guardians, and tells him that he wants to adopt her. badd is like “no way kid” until edgeworth unintentionally goes on a monologue about how kay’s situation reminds him of his own and badd is like okay, fine. but also this other guy wants to adopt her so you’re gonna have to figure that out

that guy is none other than shi-long lang, who saw a newly orphaned kid and went, alright, wolf pack time. my kid now. 

lang and edgeworth Do Not Like one another. lang doesn’t like prosecutors, edgeworth is obnoxious, and they’re both cocky bastards. they’re fighting over who gets to adopt kay until kay, ever the child of chaos, is like “I want both of you to be my dads!!” and badd is like, sure, joint custody, that works. and lang and edgeworth, who are intent on winning this argument, not on mutual cooperation, are like “what?!?” 

so kay ends up with two dads who low-key hate each other but have to work together to raise her, and it’s quite a childhood

she rotates between them about every month, and as lang bounces between zheng fa and japanifornia, and edgeworth occasionally has to go back to germany, she gets an unusual education experience, and a whole lot of fun traveling

lang and edgeworth try to configure their plans out together so that one of them is in japanifornia while the other one is away, but it doesn’t always work out, and that’s when kay gets to go on vacation with them

if edgeworth gets caught up in an investigation or a case or something, gumshoe becomes kay’s babysitter (if lang isn’t in town to take care of her.) if lang has to rush away to a crime scene or go on an overseas investigation he leaves kay in the care of his trusted men. he tried to ask shih-na once to watch her but she was like “no I hate children” so he dropped it. after he finds out shih-na’s true identity he’s like holy shit im glad I never made her babysit kay

surprisingly, lang is the strict dad who takes kay on all these wacky adventures while edgeworth is the pushover dad who has the more boring job/life (in kay’s eyes, as she doesn’t really see his murder investigations and court cases, mostly paperwork). edgeworth is able to put his foot down when needed, he’s just afraid of becoming manfred von karma, though he doesn’t realize it

speaking of manfred... edgeworth knows he wouldn’t approve of adopting kay, so he kind of hides kay’s existence from him. kay goes along with it because manfred is a scary motherfucker and she doesn’t want to see him. edgeworth is conflicted as to whether he should tell franziska about what’s going on, but he ends up telling her a bit of a lie, that it was gumshoe who adopted her and that he watches her for him sometimes. gumshoe and kay go along with it when needed, and kay gains some excellent improv skills

okay, so edgeworth has his first real case against mia fey, and it freaks him out. he comes home and kay can tell something is off but he won’t really talk about it. she assumes he’s upset because he lost and she tells him he’s still a great guy no matter what the outcome of a trial is, which really sticks with edgeworth. they end up eating takeout and watching the steel samurai together that night, which edgeworth is like “you’re a kid we should watch a good kids show. for your sake, obviously” whereas kay enjoys the steel samurai but quickly realizes that edgeworth really likes it too

they eat a lot of takeout… mostly because edgeworth doesn’t have the time to cook and he’s not gonna make kay do it. actually, edgeworth has a hard time remembering to take care of himself  food-wise, it’s just not something that naturally occurs to him, so kay kind of becomes his reminder. she’ll come into the kitchen and be like “what’s for breakfast?” and he’ll be like “tea?” she’ll go “tea is NOT a meal” and he’s like “it isn’t??” and then they’ll actually eat something

he and lang start tolerating each other more to take care of kay, especially when she wants to do “family things” with both of them. they’ll take her to the zoo and get mistaken as a couple and edgeworth doesn’t even realize it but lang is already denying it. edgeworth is horribly oblivious and never notices and by the time he turns to lang and goes “wait… did they think we were a couple?” lang had given up denying it months ago. their whole dynamic makes for some interesting parent-teacher conferences

lana skye once had some kind of emergency come up and dropped off ema with gumshoe, who was looking after kay, and when lana asked who kay was, gumshoe was like, “prosecutor edgeworth’s daughter sir!” and lana had a bit of an aneurysm trying to figure out how the ages worked there until gumshoe mentioned that kay was adopted. she later brought it up with edgeworth as kay and ema became really good friends after that, and suddenly lana and edgeworth find themselves driving their sister/daughter over to each other’s houses to hang out, which is weird for them, but the girls love it, and they get to know each other a bit better

edgeworth is still, you know, the demon prosecutor, but with kay as his daughter, he’s slightly emotionally softer than he is in AA1 canon. kay is someone he can be a bit weird and vulnerable around, and she’s his only non-von karma (non karma, ayyy wordplay) family. after he loses his first case to phoenix, he’s very freaked out, and kay is determined to help him. she’s like ~14 at this point, and after doing some digging (mostly talking to gumshoe) she learns about how some rookie lawyer defeated her dad. then edgeworth has to prosecute THE steel samurai (will powersssss) and shes like, oh no, I gotta see whats going on here. 

edgeworth won’t let her investigate crime scenes or attend more gory cases because he doesn’t want it to traumatize her, so she sneaks into the court gallery with gumshoe’s help, and watches the trials. she doesn’t like how this phoenix guy keeps rebutting her dad’s points, but then she realizes that he’s making good points of his own, and that her dad is kind of being an asshole. she briefly wonders if lang had been right about how awful prosecutors are, but after edgeworth gives phoenix another chance to have dee vasquez testify, she realizes that there are a lot of nuances to how things play out in court. with how distracted and angry her dad acts after the case, she thinks that he’s having a hard time figuring that out himself

the night edgeworth gets arrested for murder, he tells kay he has to go to a late night investigation and that he’ll be back soon. she waits up for him until she gets a call from detective gumshoe that he’s been arrested for murder. kay makes her way to the detention center in the very early morning, and tries to talk to her dad, but he’s unresponsive. gumshoe tells her that lang needs a couple more days to finish up an investigation in zheng fa and then he can fly in to take care of kay, and that gumshoe will do so until lang gets here. kay sees all the adults as having given up already, so she goes to the wright and co law offices and DEMANDS they defend edgeworth. phoenix and maya are shocked by edgeworth’s arrest as well as his daughter’s existence, but they immediately take the case, and kay helps them out with the investigation. edgeworth had never told her about the dl-6 incident, it being painful for him to talk about, and he was afraid it would remind her of her own father’s death. so when kay learns about it she realizes that all those times edgeworth helped her grieve her first father’s death, he knew how to help because he’d gone through something very similar. 

phoenix and maya learn about how kay became edgeworth’s daughter, and kay connects with edgeworth on their shared connection. edgeworth tells kay not to make herself a target for von karma, so phoenix and maya have her sit in the audience for the trial. due to her ~evasion tactics~ she avoids being tased by von karma, but she beats herself up for not being able to steal any evidence away from him, as she’s supposed to be the yatagarasu. because she has other father figures to look up to, she has less of an obsession with becoming a great thief, but she still considers it a part of her identity

she’s shocked when edgeworth confesses to killing his father, and then angry that he would do such a thing to further increase his chances at a guilty verdict when he had just been pronounced innocent. when they have a recess and phoenix and maya are trying to figure out the case, kay is talking to edgeworth who is in a bad place, and she’s very betrayed, like, “why would you say that you were gonna walk away free? and now I’m fearing for your life again wtf dad” and he’s all “kay I needed to tell the truth,,, you don’t deserve a murderer for a father,,” and kay is like “ID RATHER HAVE A MURDERER FOR A FATHER THAN NO FATHER AT ALL” and edgeworth is like “you have lang, he’ll take care of you” and kay is like “??? bitch you are also my dad?? I dont want you to get the death penalty ” and maya and phoenix are just sitting there like :|

basically it’s a real low point in their father/daughter relationship. the case gets solved, and kay is obviously happy, but she’s still upset about how willing edgeworth was to accept his fate. edgeworth, for his part, is in a fucking daze, that poor man’s world has been turned upside down, and he’s just kind of in a fog. that man needs to go to therapy and to stop repressing his emotions but he is not doing either of those things. shi-long “there is no such thing as an innocent person” lang is hella sus of him and does NOT want him around their daughter. edgeworth is too emotionally distressed to fight back against this, and though kay does initially, she sees that edgeworth isn’t even really on her side, so she gives up

she’s with lang for the events of 1-5 which further fuck up edgeworth. the floor is just torn out from under his feet to the point where he’s very close to committing suicide, but stops at the last moment, not for himself, but because kay is already upset with him and he doesn’t want to do that to her. it’s a bit of an epiphany- he needs to learn how to be a better prosecutor, which will make him a better person, which will make him a better dad, which is what kay needs. however, he’s already left the note on his desk. so he calls gumshoe and is like “im going to europe to learn shit, I need you to be my eyes and ears in japanifornia. also, ive faked my death. so you’re gonna have to deal with that. bye.”

edgeworth then calls lang and is like “hey I need to learn to become a Better Person, you’ve got kay until I figure that out” and lang is just “…alright?” and edgeworth explains to kay what’s going on right before he leaves for europe. kay is still upset but doesn’t protest and edgeworth flies away. neither of them realize he’s also faked his death until they have a confusing conversation with gumshoe. kay spends that year with lang and some weeks with gumshoe when lang has to go undercover or something, but she gets to travel a lot more than she’s used too, and lang is less about school and more about learning through hands on investigative work, so kay has a lot of fun. she calls edgeworth once in a while and can tell that something about him is different, but he was so ready to write himself off as her father that she is distant toward him.  

franziska starts prosecuting in japanifornia and learns about how kay was really edgeworth’s daughter, not gumshoe’s, which she finds a little weird as she’s only a bit older than kay, but then again she calls herself edgeworth’s older sister, so she just rolls with it. she starts playing a role in kay’s upbringing, she says it’s her duty as her aunt, but she sees kay more as a little sister that she can hang out with. and by hang out I mean teach how to use a whip and investigate and more fun stuff like that, because franziska doesn’t really have any friends, and she’s lonely. she and lang aren’t huge fans of one another but they both care about kay and they’re both a little pissed at edgeworth so they bond in a frenemy kind of way. they're a powerful duo

will powers extends three invitations to phoenix for that tv ninja thing at the hotel, and three to edgeworth, who is bummed that he’ll miss it as he’s in germany, but he sends the invites to lang so he can take kay and another person, which turns out to be franziska. they have a good time for the most part, but all the samurai stuff reminds kay about how she and edgeworth bonded over the steel samurai, and it makes her sad, so they leave early, before the murder. then franziska gets the case, and kay and lang decide to watch it. the day franziska gets shot, edgeworth is flying into los tokyo to catch a connecting flight to somewhere else, but he hears about franziska’s injury at the airport, and as he’s been keeping up with her cases, knows someone needs to prosecute in her stead. he feels like he’s not ready to go back, but he decides he has to put all that he’s learned to the test, and franziska is his family, and she’s injured, and he should be there for her. so he misses his next flight and he goes to the courtroom as the trial starts and has a dramatic entrance that has kay and lang in the gallery going “oh shit he’s back”

he doesn’t really have time to have a proper conversation with them during the case because he’s either in court or super busy investigating, but they see just how much he’s changed during the trial, and they’re impressed. after it’s over, he apologizes to kay, and says he’s ready to be the father she deserves, something she’s quite pleased about, though that doesn’t completely erase the hurt. lang holds a new respect for him, and as edgeworth is not as on edge as he usually was, he’s able to be a bit more amicable with lang. though they still have their fair share of arguments, because let’s face it, those two would argue about the most mundane things, there’s less of a bite and more an equal rapper between the two. they start to see their role as parenting kay not as “him and me”, but as “us”, which helps stabilize kay’s upbringing. 

edgeworth decides not to overload himself with cases as he did pre-dl6 resolution and spends more time with kay. he and lang get to know/understand each other a bit more, and he spends more time with franziska, helping her with her own struggle. the siblings gets called away to germany to deal with manfred’s will, as he’s finally been executed, until edgeworth gets the call about phoenix being in the hospital (bridge to the turnabout) and they go back to japanifornia, where lang is looking after kay. edgeworth tells gumshoe the plan to act as a defense attorney against franziska, and gumshoe immediately calls lang and is like “you and kay are gonna want to see this”

the trial happens and it’s weird af, and edgeworth spends the other trial days in the gallery with lang and kay, and it’s strangely a family bonding moment. by this point, kay and edgeworth’s relationship is much more stable, and lang and edgeworth are friendly with one another. they go on with their lives, until one day, edgeworth is returning from europe on a plane when the events of turnabout airlines happen. in her own prosecution quest, franziska has been spending more time with lang and interpol, trying to figure out if that’s how she wants her career path to go, which is why she and lang are investigating the smuggling ring. 

turnabout airlines concludes, edgeworth gets home, only to be thrown into the mess of the kidnapped turnabout. he’s just trying to help out ernest amano but then he’s getting concussed by the blue badger and tied up. lang is already investigating at the park, and is showing kay the ropes. edgeworth had been so wrapped up in his previous investigation that he didn’t tell them he’d be at the park, and he didn’t know they’d be investigating there. lang gets pulled into something kay finds boring, so she goes off to explore, and ends up finding where edgeworth was tied up. they can’t communicate with lang so they figure their way out of there until they run into lang who’s very surprised to see edgeworth, and vice versa. they investigate, and butt heads, but they solve the murder together!! just with lots of arguing. along the way, they run into ema, who kay has a bit of a crush on, and it shows. lang is like “oh dang she’s in love” and edgeworth who is horribly oblivious is just ???

also, wendy oldbag shows up (*prozd voice* “THAT HORRIBLE WOMAN”) and edgeworth is having a bad time which lang finds funny until he sees just how irritated edgeworth is, and he’s starting to be annoyed by oldbag (and is feeling… weirdly jealous???) so he plays into the thing where he and edgeworth get mistaken for a couple, and edgeworth isn’t quite sure what he’s doing, but it seems to be driving oldbag away, so he goes along with it. ema bears witness to this, and assumes they’ve gotten together for real, so she’s like “about time! I thought you guys liked each other for ages” and goes on like this and kay is losing it and edgeworth is confused, lang knows what’s going on but decides not to correct her. 

at the end of the case edgeworth starts swaying and lang is like “you good?” and edgeworth is like “I might have a concussion, that strike from the blue badge did draw blood” and lang is like “WHAT” and pushes back edgeworth’s bangs to reveal, you guessed it, blood. edgeworth just kind of falls over, but he’s still conscious, so lang takes him home to rest while he frantically googles how to take care of a mild concussion (edgeworth hates hospitals due to waking up in one and being told that his dad was dead as a child, so lang has to be the one to take kay to doctor appointments. lang knows edgeworth will refuse to have a doctor examine him unless it’s dire)

turnabout visitor time!! edgeworth goes to his office after a quick nap (lang keeps insisting he stays in bed but edgeworth just wants to pick up some case files, it’s fine, what’s the worst that could happen?) and then boom, he has to deal with murder. once that’s done, he just kind of collapses onto his couch until kay runs in with tickets to the steel samurai stage show. apparently lang is gonna be investigating the embassy the night of the show and he got tickets for the two because he knows they like the steel samurai. edgeworth isn’t feeling good but he’s still not great at taking care of himself and he does want to take kay to the play, so they go to see it. the events ensue similarly to how they did in game, except franziska was in on lang suspecting her as bait for the real killer as they are pals and working together, and callisto yew is the main villain because it’s what she deserves. edgeworth and lang are VERY protective of kay during this, and worried for her, so when callisto pulls a gun on kay edgeworth immediately steps in front of it like no way in hell are you shooting my daughter. then callisto tries to shoot him and lang, who had started falling for edgeworth during the kidnapping case, pushes him out of the way and takes a bullet to the shoulder

callisto is apprehended and lang gets taken to the hospital with kay and, surprisingly, edgeworth in tow, as he decided to brave the hospital for lang because he cares about him (aww) and also because he feels he owes it to lang for protecting him from that bullet, and also he really needs to get his concussion checked out, because he’s been ignoring how bad he feels and now that the cases are over he is Not Doing Well. lang has a bit of a crisis like “shih-na was my secretary for years but she was destroying my country so that was kind of my fault??” and edgeworth helps him with the lessons he learned after being messed with by manfred and gant. and it’s really emotional bonding for them!! he actually trusts lang enough to tell him about how he was so distraught that he almost killed himself, and lang says that he wishes he’d helped edgeworth back then. edgeworth said they weren’t in a place where they could do that for each other, but he did help him, by taking care of kay while edgeworth searched for answers

by this point, lang is like, dammit, I think I like this guy. he insists on doing more “family” stuff and kay is thrilled! edgeworth has a good time because he enjoys lang’s sharp mind more when they’re friends. they work on more investigations together and get really good and finding the true culprit. then edgeworth prosecutes callisto yew and lang is just *heart eyes*. he and edgeworth get dinner just the two of them after that, and edgeworth starts falling for lang. cue pining.

anybody who wants to hear more is gonna have to wait until I play aai2, because I have some great hurt/comfort plots for post-aai2 but I dont actually know anything ab aai2 except vague spoilers and that its the only other game where lang/edgeworth interact. also sorry if I butchered any aa info, ive only watched playthroughs of aa1 and aai1, and the anime for aa2 and aa3. tbh the only game ive played through myself is aa4,, which has no edgeworth appearances in it,, yeah.

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part V

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part IV

Summary: While you face a relationship dilemma, you must help Barry stop The Mist from coming after your adoptive father. Based on 1x03

Warnings: None

***

You submerged your face in the water on your hands. The coolness temporarily eased the sting in your eyes. You turn off the faucets, you grab some tissues and dab them on your face to dry. You stared at yourself in the mirror; you were starting to look fine. The puffiness of your eyes ease, your eyes are still bloodshot red, but it was better.

It had been hours since that fight happened, and you have washed your face for the hundredth time today. Each time you think about it, you cry despite trying hard not to, and lucky you, it's all you can think about.

You reapplied your lipstick and mascara, and left the restroom. You walked down the hallway to come back to the cortex. You rounded a corner, but your feet quickly halted when a figure popped up to avoid collision.

It was him. You both froze, staring at each other. He could have swore, he saw a flicker of hurt and coldness in your eyes, before you lowered your head down when his stare became intense. This wasn't the first you crossed paths today. It's his building and you work here, though it didn't mean it got easier. It's always awkward and uneasy.

He didn't speak or move, so you figured you would be the one who needs to do it.

"Excuse me," you whispered, walking ahead passing by him.

"Y/N, wait." You stopped in your tracks and formed a fist. Although you didn't turn around. "We need to talk,"

"We already did. There's no need to further discuss it and make it worse." You didn't dare let him respond, and walked away rapidly away from him, not skipping a beat until you reached the cortex.

You quickly took a seat beside Cisco and buried your head on the computer, typing as you finished a report. Your thoughts ran, a sudden furious rage boiling in your veins. You couldn't believe how ironic it is that earlier he didn't want to talk about it, and now he does. It just infuriates you so hard, so hard and murder him with your bare hands.

"Woah, woah, you okay?" Cisco's voice pulled you out of your spiral.

You paused, fingertips ghosting the keyboard. You didn't even realize you were typing audibly, angrily. "Yeah. Just itching to get our meta," you said.

"Okay. Whatever you say," he replied, obviously suspicious and not an ounce convinced. None of them were if you're being honest. Especially Barry. He was very concerned, but it occurred to him that this might be regarding your mystery boyfriend, so he reluctantly kept his distance.

Wells came back. You can feel his eyes boring at you. You pretended to be oblivious, but it bothered you. Deeply.

Abruptly, a ping coming from the computer echoed in the room. It was the analysis on the toxin. Cisco was quick to call Barry and Caitlin, who God knows where to come to the cortex immediately.

They arrived moments later.

"Yo, check this out."

You all huddled up in front of the TV, waiting for someone to explain the result.

"We have identified the toxin," Wells said, clicking the screen of his tablet. The analysis results popped up on the screen.

"Hydrogen Cyanide?" Barry's brows furrowed.

"Well, what's interesting is what mixed in with the cyanide— a sedative," he added.

Your head cocked to the side, confused more than ever. You're no Caitlin, but that sounded odd. Never in your life have you heard those chemical compounds being mixed before— hell, even in being in the same sentence.

You turned to Barry to ask. His demeanor changed from being in serious thought to his eyes lighting up in recognition. A hand flew to his forehead, turning to Caitlin.

"The night of the explosion— find out if anyone was executed," he ordered.

Caitlin nodded and headed to the nearest computer.

"Why?" Wells asked, beating you to it.

"That sedative was given to criminals on death row before they go into the gas chamber, and breathe in cyanide," he explained.

That was one hell of a fact.

"There was someone executed— Kyle Nimbus," Caitlin informed.

A tab of his background and records popped up. And yup, he does look like someone crazy. Bald, pale skin, huge bags under his eyes. Just add a crooked smile and he could be the missing son of the Grinch and Penguin.

"That's him," Barry confirmed.

"He was a hit man for the Darbinyan crime family. They turned on him and testified. Judge Teresa Howard was the judge at his trial. She sentenced him to death."

It makes sense why he was hell bent on killing these people. The irony of his life though. Karma really is a bitch.

"He said there's one more on his list. Check the arrest records; who caught him, that could be his next attack," he walked towards her, and you trailed after him, dumbfounded.

There was too much information all at once, and Barry's the only one who's putting two and two together as fast as he runs.

You watched as Caitlin's eyes widened in horror. Her face blanched, glancing up at you and Barry, as if she had seen a ghost. It made you a little worried and anxious. The pit of your stomach knotting, as you swallowed thickly. Whatever information she got a hold of isn't good.

"Barry, the lead detective..."

Your heart dropped. Your mind quickly thinks of one person: Joe. Your thoughts ran wildly. You refused to believe it's him.

"Cait, who is it?" You asked, shakily.

"It's Joe."

You let out a gasp, panic surged through you. It felt like the world collapsed, your worry escalating into another level.

Next thing you knew, Barry was on his cell, both of you pacing back and forth, while he tried to reach Joe. Each time he took his phone off his ear, not able to reach him, he grew more frustrated. And so were you.

"He's not answering,"

"Call Eddie, maybe he knows," you suggested.

He took your advice and dialled him. You held your breath, anxiously waiting for the end of the ringing noise from Barry's phone.

"Eddie!" You immediately moved to Barry's side. "Hey, do you know where Joe went? He's not picking up his cell."

You placed your ears near and listened carefully. He paused, then said he didn't know.

"Eddie, it's really important I speak to him. I need to know where he went." Barry pleaded, evidently desperate.

Eddie must have picked it up. You heard an audible sigh from him through the phone. Eddie said he's in Iron Heights. That must have been why he's not picking up.

"Thanks, Eddie." Barry ended the call, and went to the team. "He's in Iron Heights, he's in Iron Heights because of me,"

Your brows drew together. If the toxins results didn't make sense, so is Barry right now. "What? Why?"

"I'll explain later," he said, running off to Caitlin.

She developed an antidote from the toxin, in case Barry didn't make it in time to stop Nimbus. Barry put on his suit, and faster than a blink of eye, he sped off, leaving a red streak of lights behind and a gust of strong wind blowing through your hair.

You took a seat and behind a computer to do your designated job. You pray to God Barry gets there before Nimbus does.

"Barry, I pulled up the specs on Iron Heights prison with maximum security, but I think I can talk you through breaking in there," he said, as he took a seat beside you.

You chortled, shaking your head. Your brother is probably doing the same thing right now. Cisco looked at you confused and a little offended.

"No bother. I've been figuring out how to break in that place since I was 11,"

Damn right he was. He used to get in trouble with Joe because of that, and you'll get a warning to think twice before pulling the same stunt. Barry still continuously, persistently did it. Eventually, he got older and no one has to call Joe about a minor trying to sneak in to see his Dad.

In a snap, it dawned on you. That's what Barry meant. Your Dad was the reason Joe was in Iron Heights. As to why, you wondered. Joe never once visited the man; he strongly believes that your Dad killed your Mom, it doesn't make sense why he would want to see him after all those years.

Your thoughts were pushed in the back of your mind, seeing Barry was inside the prison. You all cowered in silence, anxiety prickling your very existence. Your heart beating fast like you ran a hundred miles, you fingers were trembling. You took them off the keyboard, and hid them under the desk, clenching and unclenching it repeatedly.

You tried to keep it together, itching to hear Barry's voice, saying Joe's fine. You already lost your parents, you can't lose another one.

You felt a warm, large hand on your formed fist, fingers wrapping it securely with a squeeze. Your head shot up to the man in glasses beside you, stunned. Not that you just had the biggest fight ages ago, but your colleagues are literally sandwiching the two of you.

He gave a soft, assuring smile. And you appreciated it deeply. You opened your palm, intertwining your fingers with his. The differences were set aside for a moment, as you hold on to him for dear life.

"Joe's stable," Barry spoke.

The weight on your chest was lifted off. You relaxed for a second only to be reminded that there's still a meta-human on the loose that desperately needs some ass-kicking.

According to Barry, Nimbus transformed into a mist again, and Caitlin advised him to stay away, do not breathe him I'm. As weird as that sounds, it was the only way to avoid inhaling cyanide, and he might not be so lucky again.

But it was very obvious that it wasn't easy; the man is literally air.

"Guys, I don't think this is helping me,"

"You can't fight him, Barry. Just..." Caitlin paused to think. "...keep him coming at you, that should sap his strength."

Wells nodded in agreement. "Yes. Gas is the least stable form of matter— this meta-human will not be able to stay in this mist form, his particles will need to reform."

Barry ran. He ran farther and farther away from the prison. He takes quick stops, before running again.

Your eyes peered over to Caitlin's computer to check on his vitals. His heart rate elevated a bit, but everything was fine. Although he wasn't updating or saying anything it's starting to worry you.

Wells, clearly worried, leaned over and grabbed the mic. "Barry?" He called him. There was only silence on the other end. "Barry?" He called again, louder and firmer.

"We win,"

You all sighed with relief. Your eyes fluttered close, as you lean back into your seat and roll your head back. You squeezed him, you looked at him as a grateful smile spread across your face.

Barry brought Nimbus to S.T.A.R Labs, and left to go to the hospital. You stayed behind to see how well you did with makeshift prison, and get some satisfaction by watching him go crazy to find a way out.

You stood by the entrance of the pipeline with the team, watching the door slide down in front of a very angry Kyle Nimbus, pounding on the glass, constantly morphing into gas to escape his cell. The dummy didn't actually think you'd seal it.

"So, we just have to get used to working above a makeshift prison," Caitlin commented.

"Yup," you replied.

It's surreal. You can't still quite grasp the fact that you built a prison, and it's weird to see someone actually imprisoned inside. He deserved it, yes, but it's still weird.

Everyone turned to shuffle back to the cortex. Cisco pulled Caitlin aside. It looks like they have something to talk about, and by the look on Cisco's face, it's probably serious.

Your eyes flickered to Wells, who was surprisingly staring at you too. You locked eyes, realizing things had wind down— Nimbus is apprehended, and no meta-human to worry about for the time being. You don't know what's going to happen, where you both stand; if the relationship still exists, but one thing is for certain: it was time to address it and deal with it.

He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to go outside, before leaving the room.

You followed him, trailing behind him in the hallway. You dreaded every step you took, you heart racing fast under your ribs, and for many times today, your stomach churned, nervous.

You didn't know where he was leading you. You never really wandered around this area. The hallway is like a never ending maze; just no twist and turns. It was long and quiet and dark. If he was some dude, you would think that he's luring you to kill you.

You were about to ask him where you both were going, but he stopped. You both stood in front of a door. Nothing special about it, just a door. He twisted the knob and opened it. He took a step aside to let you in first and you obliged.

The lights automatically turned on, shedding lights on the room contents. Shelves containing boxes and some other covered things lined up across the room. It's another storage room. The dust isn't disgustingly obvious yet, but it hasn't been touched in a while. Probably since last year.

"We have another storage room?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. This was used when we were building the accelerator," he explained, closing the door behind him.

This is not the most ideal place to talk, but it's secluded and quiet and hidden. Given the fight earlier, all those three are a must.

You spun around to him, folding your arms, awkwardly waiting for him to speak first.

"So?" He started.

"So?"

He exhaled sharply, pursing his lips. "I thought about what you said, and..." He trailed off. A lump forming in your and you gulped in anticipation, watching him be lost for words. It was like those heart stopping moments in class just before your teacher passed your papers, scared of what your mark would be, except on this one, there's only two of you. This would not just affect the future, but potentially break your heart.

He stammered. " I don't— I don't want to lose you. I love you and you were right." Your mouth went dry. You were rendered speechless. Not a single word you could utter, staring at him in shock. You didn't expect that one. Scared that might not convince you, he added, "I mean it. I couldn't risk losing you."

Emotions barrelling through you. You kept it together, not wanting to broke down immediately.

"What about the press?"

"They'll leave us alone eventually," he answered.

"Your haters?"

He chuckled lightly. "They'll forget about it."

"And Joe?" The smile on his face faded, aware of the seriousness of that name.

"We'll deal with it. But I'm pretty sure he'll be happy for you,"

You lowered your head, looking down at your feet.

"Y/N?"

You glanced up, your demeanor stern as you looked into his eyes. "Are you sure? You might be just saying this right now, but you might regret—"

"The only thing I will regret is letting you walk away. I lost a lot of things last year, and I don't want you to be part of it. You mean so much to me,"

Your heart was cracked open. You were in awe of his declaration. Today was a tough one, and it will be on some days, but you certainly knew you would be a damn fool to let him go.

Although, it doesn't hurt to rile him up a bit. You maintain a stoic expression for a period of time, which ended very soon because you couldn't help it anymore.

"Damn it," you hissed.

You went to him, cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to yours. He responded quickly. His lips move passionately against yours, pouring all emotions into the kiss. Your stomach flutters in realization how vulnerable and raw this moment is. It was like he's opening up and he didn't have to say anything. Everything disappeared for a while. He clutched your arm, pressing you closer to this warmth.

You pulled away reluctantly, panting. You leaned your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whispered to him.

"I love you too,"

He drew closer to kiss you again, but you withdrew. You gritted your teeth, looking at him nervously.

"I think we should tell them tonight,"

***

Uh Oh. How do you think they'll react?

Anyway, I'd appreciate if you share this and give it love. Thanks!

Part VI

[whitherliliesbloom]

birds of a feather

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #16 - crane ]

[ illya & friends ] ★ [ 1,847 words ]  ★ [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] features ancientechos’ laurelis and two of my other ocs.

crane: a tall, long-legged, long-necked bird, typically with white or grey plumage

though their species varies as much as the colors of their plumages, birds of a feather flock the warrior of light together

“So...” Sigfred’s puzzled expression is framed by the furrowing of his eyebrows as he looks down at the young woman as she tries and fails to protectively shield her newest little companion away from his view. “You decided your aviary isn’t quite populated enough, did you?”

He says little, but the creature stood a good two feet taller than the comparably tiny lalafellin in front of it, the red tuff that crowned its head not helping it stay out of sight and unnoticeable either.

Of course, even if the peculiar thing hadn’t been almost the size of a small hyuran child or had striking plumage, it wouldn’t distract anybody from the fact that the lanky, majestic creature Illya had herded back home was yet another bird - a wild crane hailing from the far east.

“It wasn’t my decision to make.” Illya frowns, shaking her head while she idly raises her hand to rest upon the crane’s head, stroking it gently. “She just followed me back.”

“All the way from Yanxia?” The disbelief in his voice is his understandable, as is the skeptical crossing of his arms. He has trouble believing that a wild animal would doggedly tail Illya thousands of miles away from it’s natural habitat. Though his cynicism quickly fades when his scarlet eyes meet starlit ones, and he is reminded of the supernatural affinity the girl has with feathered creatures when a pigeon casually flutters over and lands on top of her head. 

He cannot tell if the lack of the wild animal’s natural fear of people when it came to Illya was more absurd, or the fact that she seemed completely nonchalant about the way a bird was nesting atop her hair. 

“Yes.” She answers, voice dipping slightly in pitch to convey her seriousness. “Hien had quite a struggle to chase her off the boat.” 

Evidently, the Prince of Doma had failed spectacularly... and as if self-aware, the crane puffs it’s chest out and tilts her head high into the sky. 

Next to Sigfred, the bard’s shoulder shakes in mirth, his loud guffaw echoing through the shroud of trees and causing the pigeon that had been peacefully resting on Illya’s head to flee, much to her unspoken chagrin. 

“Gods, I’m not even surprised anymore.” Wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eyes, E’lija finally speaks in between choked laughter. “Illya brings home a new bird like every other day.”

Heat spreads across the young lady’s face, though as if sensing her embarrassment, the cockatiel that had been sitting quietly upon the branch of Illya’s wisteria tree flys over before landing on her shoulder, now nudging it’s head against her cheek.

“I-I... I don’t choose to, most of the time at least... Plus, if I take good care of them, there shouldn’t be a problem. Isn’t that right, Orion?”

The cockatiel bobs its head up and down, much to the utter shock of E’lija who throws his arms up.

“W-wha- It can understand her??”

Orion doesn’t spare even a second to pause before turning it’s head to lock his beady, round eyes upon the miqo’te before his beak parts to voice his detest towards the man who would embarrass his master.

“Piss off.”

“IT CAN TALK?!?!” E’lija so very nearly falls off his fold up chair, threatening to take the cups of coffee and biscuits onto the floor with him.  “WHERE- Where did it learn that from???” 

“.....Estinien.” Illya frowns, lifting her index finger to poke at the cockatiel’s forehead in disapproval. “He got into a fight... well... argument with Orion. It wasn’t pretty.”

She really should find a way to tactfully ask the man to cut his expletives down... or at least not feel the raging urge to get into a debate with a mere bird, lest she have a harder and harder time convincing people that she was not in fact the one responsible for teaching her pet cockatiel how to yell ‘Thal’s balls’ in a guest’s ear. 

Sigfred merely hums, his hands stroking his chin as he narrows his eyes at the crane. 

“What kind of crane is it, anyway? We didn’t see a lot of it’s kind back in Doma.”

“It’s a Manchurian crane - one of the rarest species of cranes in the world, I believe. It’s particularly highly revered in the far east... which was why I had to hide her below deck while we were sailing by Kugane.”

His interest piqued, the redhead straightens himself and adjusts his hat before leaning back into his seat. 

“Why’s that?”

“Um... well, if I remember right, it symbolizes good fortune, longevity and immortality.”

E’lija has to stop his jaw from dropping so low that it’d collide with the table. Archons, and this apparently rare crane from the far east that represented god given virtues has now taken a liking to Illya so much it’d leave Doma to stalk her all the way back to Eorzea?

Internally, he wonders what sort of karma he must have to obtain such divine blessings. 

With a clear of his throat, Sigfred steers the conversation back on track.

“So what now? What do you plan on doing next with it?”

“I-I.... I don’t... I don’t know? She’s stubborn... wouldn’t budge for anyone. I had thought maybe letting her see just how different the shroud is from Yanxia, she’d want to go home but...”

A hearty, more pleasant giggle rings out next to her, and Illya turns to look at a pink-haired miqo’te who she had assumed would be too pre-occupied with cuddling her baby dodo to have paid attention to her conversation with her other party mates.

Laurelis still is, to an extent... her arms wrapped tightly around the plump, round creature as it lets out an occasional squawk. But as usual, when it came to the topic of animal adoption and welfare, she was ever the first to jump to contribute to the topic.

“Why don’t you just adopt her then? You already know how to take care of other birds so... just one more won’t make much of a change, would it?”

That was the exact mindset that would lead Laurelis to have an ever growing household of cats and dogs that she’d find on her travels... but Illya thinks pointing out the irony to that would only get lost to her dear friend. 

“Well... I... I have my reservations.” 

Illya turns behind to look back at the crane as it stares intently back at her. Whatever that was going through it’s head, it certainly had no intention of returning where it came from... But that in itself was a bit of a problem.

“Manchurians cranes are an endangered species... I’m not sure I’m qualified enough to take care of one, let alone adopt and keep one for the rest of it’s life, when it should rightfully be wild.” 

There was a drip of hypocrisy in her statement, certainly. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to shelter a wild animal only to be forced into a position of adopting it - and it didn’t just apply to birds either. 

But caring and raising a species at danger of going extinct was an entirely different issue that she rightfully felt she had no place dabbling in - not without professional training, at least... and the twelve knows when she’d find an expert in the matter willing to teach her.

Ethical concerns aside, Illya also struggled to find a concrete reason for why she absolutely had to keep this beautiful creature in her home. 

For most of the other animals she’d adopted, they had been rescued in some form or the other. Hazel for example, the brown sparrow that she had found with broken wings near Bentbranch Meadows a few summers ago. Though Illya had full intentions to release her as soon as she healed from her injuries, the little sparrow grew attached and has rarely ever left her side since. 

She’d struggled to find an adopter who would be willing to take in her mobirdly obese chocobo chick Lawrence, due perhaps to their reservations in regards to providing for his demanding diet. And likewise, the hunting hawk that she’d met upon a pirate ship had been abandoned after losing it’s eye... and his protectiveness over not just herself, but anyone he knew to be someone Illya cared for, made it difficult to even find ways to put adverts for his adoption. 

Illya had thought the reason why birds seemed to flock to and very often stay by her side had been for the simple fact that she’d saved them... and that their attachment to the one who saved them made it impossible for them to part from her. 

The Manchurian crane however, would perhaps be the clearest proof that her affinity with birds was... unnatural, to say the least. 

Not that she minded, of course... Because for as much as she would bring doubt to her own abilities to care for the animals under her care, she did secretly have a soft spot for birds that perhaps made it hard for her to give her feathered friends as much as it would be for them to find a new home. 

“Maybe I could foster it for a while before bring it back to Doma.” Illya hums, but hears Laurelis whine pitifully in response.

“But she’s clearly attached to you! I’m sure she’ll be happiest by your side. At the end of the day, her happiness and wellbeing is the most important, right? I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Illya!” 

The miqo’te points out, gesturing to the yard full of birds who roosted quietly - from Lawrence who was now rolling about in his little playpen full of sand, to Captain Blackbeak who sat vigilantly atop the purple mailbox decorated with golden leaves and stars that sat right outside her yard. 

Illya hears hazel singing from where she sat on the roof of the pagoda, and the nudging of the crane’s beak against her face, as if both voicing their agreement for Laurelis’ words... and Illya lets out a heaving sigh that was copied comically by the cockatiel on her shoulder.

“I-I’ll think about it.” Though there’s still a hint of hesitation, the fact Illya was willing to even consider was enough to cause Laurelis to break out into a grin, lifting her hands up to clap in delight.

“Oh goodie! Now think of a name for her!”

“N-now??” With widened eyes of gleaming lavender stars, Illya parts her mouth and shakes her head frantically. “W-when I’m put on the spot like that I can’t--... I can’t think of anything-”

“Oh!” Evidently more than happy to suggest some ideas, E’lija blurts out. “I have some ideas! How about... Queen crane! Or... Immortal Nancy! Or-”

“Shut up stupid! Shut up stupid!”

Bouncing up and down, Orion squeals out, causing the bard to finally collapse off of his chair and spill his milk coffee, which Illya is certain that Lawrence would be more than happy to hop over and drink off the floor.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Going M.I.A Until July 5th After Being Peeved Off By Toxic-Humans

I just need to have some time for myself,

and I wanted to wait until July to start posting again.

I just need to try to relax and do some self healing,

and it all has to do with finding out a bit more about Scott Cawthon.

look, no one has to agree about the same religious views.

I mean I have to stay in the Neo-Christian/Ma-Acolyte Closet,

as well as the Aceflux closet and the bigender identity closet with my family.

it be nice if it didn’t happen while FNAF Security Breach was still in the works.

I’m not even sure if it’s even finished, I can only hope that someone with a heart picks up where Scott left off and adopts the series but still gives Scott credit.

right now I’m listening to a comfort song right now,

which is Lily Allen’s song F**k You.

I guess I could listen to some other songs to comfort me,

but how I feel, it calls for that song.

I just wish they didn’t bring Trump or the other names that are involved into that mess...

after finding out that Trump had some form involvement of the, my guess bullying...

I did get upset at him enough to cry and say I hate him.

of course I can’t say that to my Mom or half of my family.

sure one half supported him and the other half don’t,

but we are still family.

I don’t much care for Presidents in Real Life, I have very little trust in them.

ones in movies or video games or any form of entertainment, are fine.

since it is just in a fictional world that is at times a counterpart of ours.

no one has to agree about my being mad at Trump, and that’s okay.

 I can’t help but think that there is a possibility that Scott had retired

because of the bullying and it possibly being linked to Trump.

we all don’t have to agree to like or dislike Trump.....

but I’m sure a lot of people are upset at those that caused the early retirement

before the Five Nights at Freddy’s Security Breach   

but maybe there will be still hope for it,

at least if it is true that Scott has a successor.

and if they do continue work on the Security Breach,

then we can only hope things works out well.

I didn’t know there was gonna be a successor,

until I was just looking up some more info about the whole FNAF thing.

but yeah, with only half of what I know so far,

it is still going to be a part of my Semi-Misanthrope.

I still know there are some good people in this world,

that is why it is “Semi”, which is better than it being the full.

maybe later I can try to look up more info about the whole thing,

but it is still possible the bullying was part of the reason for the early retirement.

I’m still peeved at this one person who was bad mouthing YandereDev.

if they are taking long to finish the game, it is because these things take time,

and also everyone has a off day where they wont be able to work on something right away and might have to put it on hiatus.

if Yandere Simulator ever gets on a Disc or game card,

and ends up being playable on Xbox One or Nintendo Switch...

I hope there will be a mode where we can dress up as Chara from Undertale.

at least there is some good news,

Doki Doki Literature Club will be on Nintendo Switch, I have been meaning to mention that after I had found out some days ago.

and parents should not let their child play it if they are under the age of 15.

don’t go blaming the mature content, when it’s you the parents who are to blame.

hey I did see a movie that I was not the proper age for,

and I wasn’t even a teenage yet when I saw it.

I’m talking about Cool World, I still like it and have the DVD.

but after remembering I had seen that movie, and we had rented it from a place that rented out VHS tapes.

I came to realize that letting me see that too early, even though I don’t think I can remember much about watching it during that time, all I know is that I did watch it.

but at least it didn’t get as mature as the Deadpool Movie,

and I still like the Deadpool Movie.

but anyway I figured out that it was wrong for my family to let me watch Cool World when I wasn’t the proper age for it,

and even letting me watch something else with the “witch” word on it,

when I was a toddler and I ended up saying “Son of a Witch”

of course it wasn’t the word witch, but you get what I’m going with this right?

I had to try to keep my little cousin from playing my Deadpool video game,

and it was lucky I caught them on time when the game had barely started.

did they even think about stopping them before they fully started to playing?

I don’t want to make the same mistake as my Mom or anyone else in my family.

at least the bad word I used wasn’t my first word.

but I had come to realize that it isn’t the mature content to blame,

but the parents, and even if some parents are willing to admit this cold truth.

that is perhaps long overdo, not all parents might admit to it.

if you have any mature stuff either on your computer or even a movie or show on DVD.

make sure to hide it from the child, give them their own computer

but put a child lock on the browser, where only you know the password.

and if you tend to forget passwords, write it on paper then hide it where your child or little sibling, can’t find it and it’s in a place that only you know.

also I want to say this....

I rather be a part of a Neo-LGBT, there can be different types of Aces.

some who are flux like myself, but because of the whole sexual energies,

I didn’t figure it out until I started to protect myself with my bracelets.

a Aceflux person can be a sexual empath, picking up the sexual energies of others when they are either in the same room or a different room all together.

and just because someone is Heteroromantic-Ace, doesn’t mean they should be exclude from the LGBT Community, even if some will still welcome them.

 and even if some might not believe that a Ace can end up being a sexual empath, but it might be very rare.

I’m not sure if there are many Aces that are sexual empaths,

and didn’t figure it out until they started to wear gem bracelets to protect themselves.

I think I’m the only one I know of that is doing that.

of course when I had first started to wear a bracelet,

it was because of a dream that felt too real and I was in between awake and asleep and then I was scared awake...

it was also dark and I was laying on my back, that is part of what I remember before being scared awake.

and I can’t tell my family I’m one, or how I believe it had first started.

I rather not talk about that right now.

but the whole me rather being a part of a Neo-LGBT doesn’t really have to do with my being Aceflux, well technically Aroaceflux.

it is for different reasons,          

 of course I will have to be in the closet about being part of a Neo-LGBT Community......wait, is there already a Neo version...?

well I guess I’m fine being a solo member for now.

 at least not everyone in the LGBT Community made false accusations on Scott.

and I’m not sure if my pendulum is being 100% truthful,

when I asked about Scott’s sexuality, I mean when I asked if he was Hetero,

I was given a No, but when I asked if he was Pan, I got a Yes.

but that might not be true,

I mean I guess there is a possibility that it could be true.

but maybe I should throw some salt on my pendulum later.

and if it turn out those questions were true, and I was being given a truthful answer.

then it might make others sorry for bullying him.

plus I want to point out, that you can’t just keep hating someone

who believed the lies that they were taught while growing up

about how a different gender identity from your bio-sex one

or not being hetero, is evil.

it’s only when they end up seeing the truth that they might end up discovering

that they aren’t hetero, and might just be bi or pan instead.

I wanted to tell my my family about me being on the Asexual Spectrum,

well the flux type of it.

but I wanted to get their view on it first, about the Asexuality.

like I had said before, it didn’t work out too well.

and I had to make it seem I wasn’t Asexual at all.

even though I was asked if I was, I didn’t say Yes and made sure to not give away I was one.

then when I went to my room, I started crying.

how I reacted was perfectly normal, as I had found out when I found some info about how a parent shouldn’t disapprove of it.

I love my family, but it’s best that I never come out of the protective closets I place myself in, that I can only come out online.                                  

 also I’m gonna try to relax and try to just hope the FNAF series keeps alive and there really being a successor who will continue it.

well now that I know the one who partly more responsible,

is a Toxic Game Journalist........

that person sucks, they suck and I hate them so much.

any Toxic-Journalist that dares do what that one did,

they are just as bad as the paparazzi that harassed a distant cousin of mine.

and if their lies is what got everyone mad at Scott,

at least not everyone, but still.....

I hope that Toxic Game Journalist who started it all,

will get the karma they deserve after they screwed everything up.

and yes while writing this, I wanted to look up more info about the whole FNAF and Scott Cawthon thing.

and it does appear that the root is a toxic game journalist.

and if I had to put two and two together,

I say the Youtube Video that peeved me off before,

that had to do with a doxxing of Scott and [Redacted]

and if had to do with that disgusting filth of a shisno.

if the info had happen some time after that whole mess happen,

 then it means that that disgusting human whoever they are,

is the cause of it.

and there is a reason why I put [Redacted]

as I do not wish for the other person/creator of another series,

to be mentioned in this.

Cancel Culture is Evil, even if something does get cancelled,

it shouldn’t involve the cancel culture cult.

don’t blame the content, blame the parents.

Pepe Le Pew deserved better,

he could of been added into the Space Jam 2 Movie,

if he got character development.

he could still flirt, but would learn to keep it a bit more friendly,

and not force himself on a gal he likes.

  ya don’t see girl characters being treated the way he has been treated,

Pepe deserves better, not just Amy Rose, Dot Warner and Fifi La Fume.

that is being sexist towards Pepe.

and it’s sexist for women and even some men,

to assume if a guy wears pink or uses a pink straw, he might not be consider a man.

so wait, if a woman wearing a blue shirt or uses a blue straw, she is still a woman...?

only a real man wears pink, uses a pink straw and even cries.

and I really hope there is a Anti-Cancel Culture Group to put that shisno group in their place.

I want to try to hope things get better, and the FNAF will continue,

and Scott will get a apology from those who had believed that shisno.

maybe I should avoid looking more info about it.

I just need to try to do the self healing and hope everything gets better,

and hope it isn’t a cruel joke about there being a successor.

I guess I can try to look it up more about it to check to be sure if it is true.

I’m gonna check a few more stuff on here first, before I sign off.

and I hope some of you understand why I’m upset about what happen with Scott.

it isn’t right what happen, and how it happen.

and no matter if he supported Trump or not, there is some lines that should never cross when it comes to a dislike of a president or former president.

but if it came to picking him or the evil woman, I would only pick him to keep the babies safe.....but I’m not sure if the rumor about Hillary Clinton is true or not,

I mean when I had found out about it, I was praying she wouldn’t become president because I was worried about the innocent lives.

but if the rumors still turn out to be 100% true, I still don’t want her as the first Madam President.

 I don’t even trust Biden very much, but I will have to try to hope and pray everything will be okay.

like I said, I don’t fully trust Real Life Presidents.

the best thing I can do is hope and pray that everything will work out.

for real, this will be the last post until July.

but I wont sign back in and post anything again until July 5th.

I’m still listening to Lily Allen’s song, I’m gonna listen to it a few more times.

anyway not all of you might agree with all I said,

and I’m not gonna force you to...

so see ya later, stay safe and beware of shisno.  

PS:

Please Do Not Misinterpret anything that was wrote in this.

and I’m gonna hope that not everyone believed that bull about Scott being a Anti-LGBT.

and I do hope the shisno who started that mess, will get karma for what they did and causing FNAF to be almost cancelled for good.

and it better not be cancelled for good,

and there better be truth to the whole successor to the game series.

and if it turns out that my pendulum isn’t joking about Scott’s sexuality,

if it turns out to be 100% true and not a prank my pendulum is pulling.

then I hope he gets a lot of apologizes, not only from the other stuff,

but also about the Anti-LGBT calling.  

[crystalelemental]

Well that’s a banner.  Dragons are back, I guess.

Grima.  Female Grima.  That’s...the last thing I ever would have expected.  Ever.  She’s stupid good, too.  Green flying, DC weapon that heals 30% HP if her special goes off and if she’s near allies.  Which is kinda cute, considering Grima.  Noontime, so she’s clearly meant to heal up.  Dragonscale bothers me, because it’s a straight upgrade to her Legendary form.  Nullifies flying weakness, and -6 Attack/Res on foes if they initiate or are at full HP.  Oh, and it also gives faster cooldown.  Honestly, this should be inheritable to any Grima unit.  This should be allowed.  Dragon’s Ire is an inheritable skill, probably exclusive to all dragons, that guarantees your follow-up if your HP is over 50%, and foe initiates.  This is really, stupidly good.  I love that we’re on our way to the defensive dragon meta.  First L!Corrin, now this.  And Goad Dragons, which is fine.  Honestly, Grima’s one weakness is that Falchions will tear through her like butter, but otherwise this is a really solid kit.  With the new gen BST, the massively powercrept A-skill, and her breath weapon...Jesus Christ, when are legendary units getting refines?  Because fuck, man, this is like the fourth one that’s been powercrept to utter irrelevance.

I can’t remember who it was, but shoutouts to whoever guessed Xane.  Colorless tome, infantry.  Unique tome, gives HP +5, and seems to make his stats the highest of stats for all allies within two spaces.  So like.  It’s unclear if he’ll have his own base stats and just copy anything higher or what.  But basically he gets stats equal to the highest value in each category of every ally.  Weird.  His fodder kinda sucks.  Form skills are useless, and Infantry Hexblade isn’t really all that good.

Then...Dheginsea.  Red armor dragon.  Idunn exists, get fucked.  Also Spring Idunn.  Also Halloween Myrrh, who is better than you because preferred weapon.  What are you doing, guy?  Anyway, new inheritable breath skill, inflicts -5 Attack/Res on foe during combat and negates their bonuses if he’s not near an ally.  Sturdy Stance 3, so finally I don’t have to fodder Spring Idunn if I ever need that one.  And Slick Fighter, which...eh.  It neutralizes your penalties if foe initiates, and guarantees a follow-up.  Honestly, Vengeful and...uh...the one that the new one on Gatrie...those are better enemy phase Fighter skills.  Straight up.

Okay, I guess this is karma, and now I know how @alphakuriboh feels, because I am MASSIVELY SALTY that Ninian isn’t the frontrunner here.  Of course it has to be Tiki.  So mad.  Like, it honestly almost ruins it for me.  I don’t know if I even want this one.  I might get it for Resonant Battles and because cuteness, but it’s kinda hard to justify trying all that hard.  Anyway...

They’re ridiculous.  What the fuck is this weapon?  Strong against dragons.  Attack +3.  If there’s any bonus active on them, grants Attack/Speed +6, and also a buff to attack equal to 1.5x the total buffs to defense and resistance.  Oh, and they have L!Tiki’s C-skill.  You know, the one giving them +5 defense and res?  So just with the weapon and signature skill, they hit +5 defense, +5 res, +6 speed, and a whopping goddamn +21 attack.  Minimum.  Because then you get Attack/Speed Push 4, for +28 attack and +13 speed as shown.  And that skill is all the time.  Oh, but we’re not done yet.  They’re also a flying unit, that packs Aerobatics.  And in the current meta, flying units hit 170BST, which means possible Arena threat.  So yeah, have fun with that one.  Panic is about the only way to deal with this thing.  I mean aside from my Julia, who is about to have a GODDAMN FIELD DAY.

Their Harmonized skill is crazy good, too, especially for Resonant Battles.  It does the same basic +4 attack/speed as Mia’s, but it also auto-dances the ally with the highest HP who has acted, and is from the same game.  Oh, and this bypasses dance limitations.  They showed it working on Nils.  So you can refresh your refresher, and just dance all day.  Thankfully, they limited this to once per map, but holy shit that’s strong enough as it is.

Oh, but we’re not done.  39 HP.  39 attack.  42 speed.  32 defense.  25 res.  Put it together and what does that spell?  177BST.  180BST after a merge.  They made this fucking thing Arena relevant.  I have never been so glad to have a +10 L!Edelgard in my life.

Honestly, I’m torn.  I have a ton of mixed feelings about this banner.  I really do like the Ninian/Tiki, but I’m so upset that Ninian’s not the frontliner of the duo.  It really, truly is almost ruinous for the unit.  But Ninian being a good adoptive mom is precious and I love it regardless, so I might have to anyway.  Grima’s really good too, though again, as much as I like her, it’s super transparent that she’s literally just a direct upgrade over her Legendary alt they’ve done fuckall for, and it’s starting to bother me a lot.  L!Ike needs help.  Fjorm just lost any unique niche she could’ve held when L!Corrin dropped.  Gunnthra’s weapon is so underwhelming it’s an inheritable dagger and refine effect for common units now.  And now, Grima lost any claim to potential fame by having a unit that does everything she does but infinitely better, existing on a banner with better odds.  When the fuck are we getting Legendary unit refines?

I want to be more excited than I am.  This should be great.  But Grima comes with the lingering sense of failure to balance shit, and Ninian being relegated to backup means (1) she’s going to be there eternally and never as a frontliner for these alts, (2) this counts as her alt, and we won’t be seeing another for a long time, (3) still no Blazing Blade focus, and (4) there’s almost no possibility of Duo Eliwood/Ninian.  So it’s really hard to be happy about any of this.  I dunno.

[jincherie]

fox rain | four

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 13.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop one on the angst train express!!! conflict, crying, hurt feelings and perhaps a little bit of a complex... also someone gets slapped (rightfully). what a chapter! • ☽ — notes: two months late LETS GET IT FOOOXXX RRAAAIIINNN !!! this shit HURTED. for maximum owies, I advise reading a particular intermission before this one uwu

— posted; 08.09.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | four | next • —

Never in your life, have you ever truly entertained the thought of killing someone before now. 

As though your stormy mood is a thick fog permeating the air and rendering it unbreathable, the students moving past you in the hall hasten to give you a wide berth. You’d appreciate it, if you weren’t so caught up in your half-baked murder plans that you didn’t even notice.

You’re a nice enough person, right? You’ve never gone out of your way to be mean, or bullied anyone—hell, sometimes you feel so bad about the current state of the earth that you walk around the park looking for litter to pick up. Being the stellar example to humanity that you are, you’ve managed to steer clear of—for the most part, also not counting these very stressful past few weeks—drama. In high school you managed to dodge the drama entailed by school dances, juvenile love triangles, and pretty much anything pubescent you can think of. You did your own thing, and generally most people took enough pity on your poor excuse of an existence that they became oddly endeared and protective of you, like they were adopting a small alien ball of slime that fell from the heavens and wheezed painfully with each breath. You’ve never had to face the cold, agonizing frostbite of betrayal, and you didn’t really ever expect to.

But now for the first time ever you have, and god does it suck. You woke up this morning like you had a hangover, head throbbing as though an iron ball was rolling from one side of your skull to the other in uneven laps, and your eyes were somehow a combination of dry and tight, swollen and moist— admittedly, you still kind of feel like that to a degree. You woke up sad, and angry and hurt, but thankfully Karma isn’t one to leave you stewing in any one emotion too long. What a benevolent queen you find yourself ruled by.

As soon as you settled down this morning with your flavoured coffee (the last sachet from your “depression days” emergency stash on the top shelf of the cupboard—you feel as though with all you’ve been through, you deserve it) and opened your phone like a fool to pass the time while your waffle (another comfort food from your stash) cooked in the kitchen, you were met with a very sudden and very stark change in emotional stasis. No longer were you a moody, depressed and sad sack of mouldy mashed potato—now you were a fucking livid sack of mouldy, mashed potato, who nearly snapped her fork in half from the sheer strength of her tight grip.

After all you’d learnt of Sera the afternoon previous, you shouldn’t have been as surprised to wake up to what you did. And yet, the second you laid eyes on that damn post it had taken you so off guard you’d nearly flown into a blind rage on the spot.

The gall, the absolute audacity of her to plead and proclaim that she was going to “fix this”, only to turn around and plunge another knife into your back by publicly announcing on the university forum she used to start all this that she is the author. This entire ordeal was already such a convoluted mess that even before this, she never could have truly fixed it—but she could have lessened it, made it more bearable. Yet she didn’t. And with her blatant choice to not only do the opposite but essentially plagiarise your damn poem and steal your unwanted, unintentional fame—you’ve never been so fucking furious in your life. 

You’ve never considered murder before now either but you have to admit, the further onto campus you get and the more whispering and gossiping you catch about the “development” in the mystery moon poem drama, the more appealing it seems. 

 All day, you have put up with this shit. All day, as you sit through class and then move from one session to another, you have heard people gasp and chatter and rant and rave about how Sera is the supposed author to the poem. You’ve heard them wax poetic about her and her “skills” that she doesn’t deserve and aren’t really for her, flattering comments about her ‘humble’, ‘sweet’, ‘sensitive soul’ character that you now know couldn’t be further from the truth. The combination of her betrayal and the injustice of the situation as you now find yourself in it are almost enough to break you into a soggy, emotional mess, but it seems the pure, unadulterated rage will be enough to feed your fire and keep you going for now. 

You’ve been in such a state all day that you can hardly remember what it was like before you were angry. Depression? What depression? You’ve never heard of her. This must be what it feels like to be an Aries, you think. You almost feel invincible, and would if it weren’t for the looming cloud above you that rained angry droplets on your parade. 

By the time you drag yourself through the day and your first tutoring session arrives, you feel a strange combination of emotionally exhausted and absolutely fucking wired. You’re still seething, of course, but it’s less of an in-your-face anger and more of a crazed undertone at this point. You attempt a smile when you enter the library and see Hoseok, but you mustn’t be very close to achieving it because a brief expression of fear flits across his features and he straightens in his seat. Oops, you forgot Hoseok is a scaredy cat. It seems you’ve accidentally activated his deeply ingrained and well-exercised fight or flight response. 

“H-hey, y/n…. are you okay?” His concern for your wellbeing has seemed to override his initial fear response, and you feel a little touched amongst the angry bubbling of your insides. You try again to flash a smile, and this one appears to be a closer approximation than the last as some of the tension leaves Hoseok’s form. 

“It’s a lovely day,” you say, fighting a twitch that’s trying to make itself known in your left eye. “But enough about that, let’s talk about you. What are we going over today?”

Hoseok is hesitant, pausing a moment as his eyes survey your seated form like he’s assessing whether it’s worth it to probe a little more. He seems to reach a decision and turns to his bag, pulling out his things.  They hit the table with a tentative thunk, even the sound seeming cautious. He is treating you like a bomb that could go off at any moment and to be honest… you can’t blame him.

“I need your help brainstorming for a project that’s due in a few weeks,” he says, most of the fear having left his voice. “But I was wondering if we could practice essay writing some more, maybe timed? One of my exams is an essay.”

You wince for him, but nod and reach for your phone, unlocking it carelessly and trying to shove down the hot spark of anger that ignites down your spine at the post being the last thing you were looking at. With a little more anger than necessary, you flick that screen away and pull up the timer app. “Yeah, we can do that. We’ll split the session in half, I’ll start the timer.”

When you turn back to Hoseok, his gaze is on your phone as his brows draw together in a pensive sort of expression. Something you can’t decipher washes over his face in the next second, his eyes flitting to you and then to your phone before he’s sitting back, covering his momentary lapse with a bright smile. You’re a little bit suspicious but not bothered enough to really be wondering about whatever is going through his head. 

You start the session, and given how previous ones have gone you’re kind of expecting him to fall into the same serious, broody mood as he has been. To your complete and utter surprise, however, Hoseok begins acting in his usual dumbass antics right off the bat. He’s more animated than you’ve seen him in weeks, making weird Hoseok Noises™ and laughing loudly, even poking you playfully every now and then. 

You still feel a little stormy, but the longer the session goes on the more he has a smile fighting to be set free. It’s Hoseok, so of course that resistance doesn’t last long. By the time his session is drawing to a close he has you chuckling, a small smile on your face. He appears accomplished, grinning brightly himself before he catches sight of the time and it falters slightly. You wonder what could have incurred such a reaction before the realisation smacks you and suddenly the inklings of sunlight peeking through the clouds above your head are swallowed up again. Right, the whole thing with Jimin.

With the events of yesterday and this morning still fresh in your mind, the slight parallel hits a little closer to home than you’d like. 

You don’t have to wonder if Hoseok has noticed the backtrack in your mood, because the expression of slight regret playing across his features tells you he has. He gives you a somewhat strained smile as he hastens to pack his things away, almost hesitating once done as though he wants to stay despite a deeper desire to avoid Jimin. 

“I’m gonna head now, avoid some of the traffic on the way home,” he rambles, seemingly torn between meeting your eyes so he can smile and avoiding them since he’s fibbing and he knows you know. You squint at him.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Wouldn’t want you stuck in traffic,” you say, staring him dead in the eyes. “You live so far away after all.”

He lets out a nervous-sounding laugh, most likely at the way you’re looking at him, and slings his overstuffed bag over his shoulder. “Ahah… yeah.”

He lives about ten minutes away, the little turd.

You roll your eyes, giving the boy a brief smile. “See you on Friday, Hoseok.”

Somewhat relieved you’re not too mad, Hoseok grins and salutes, returning the sentiment before he’s hightailing it out of there faster than you can say “emotional constipation”. Well, now that you’re left to your own devices for the next eight or so minutes, you’re not really sure what to do. For a moment you sit there, staring in a somewhat disassociating manner at the dark, matte grey surface of the library table. It’s a little quieter than usual this afternoon, and it really allows you to zone out more. 

You don’t really want to look at your phone, lest it appear like a request for more suffering to the powers that be. The last thing you want is them thinking you’re hungry for more shitty luck and going out of their way to give you more. So with your phone out of the question, you’re left with nothing to do for the next few minutes except sit and stare at nothing, and maybe transcend the mortal plane a bit while you’re at it. Which is what you do, and do so thoroughly that when a voice sounds next to you, you nearly scream and shit yourself. 

“Uh, excuse me…”

“HOLYFUCK!” A strangled noise escapes you, body spinning to face whoever almost scared you to death. “DUDE, you can’t just—oh, hey Jungkook.”

The tall boy flushes as your face softens upon seeing him, the anger that resulted from your scare quickly fizzling away. Jungkook has a face that you’ve always found impossible to be angry at. It feels like being angry at a baby, or a puppy, or a little sugar glider with their big ol’ eyes and tiny paws. You just… can’t do it. You’re lucky he’s not aware of his power or else, like any other bastard adolescent male, he might use it to get up to no good. 

“Oh, sorry! Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you, I- I just saw this on the ground and came to give it to you. I think… I think one of you dropped it. I don’t know if it was you or Hoseok.” Jungkook does his best to meet your eyes, voice soft as he stumbles ever so slightly over his words. He can’t manage to hold your gaze for long however, before his is flying away and straying to the floor, and the ceiling, anywhere but you really. One of his hands rises to sweep through his long, inky curls and rub the back of his neck, the other occupied with gripping a notebook by his side. 

You examine the object a little closer, quickly coming to the conclusion you’ve never seen it before in your life. “I don’t recognise it. Could be Hoseok’s though. I’ll keep it for him in case it is his. Thank you, Jungkook.”

The male freezes, completely disarmed for a moment as you flash him a grateful smile. He is so completely still in the seconds following that you can’t help but worry—did you look so bad just then that you shocked him into a coma? Do you have a pimple you don’t know about, glaring at him from somewhere humiliatingly obvious on your face? Is there something in your teeth??

"O-oh," Jungkook clears his throat, blinking twice and then giving his head a little shake as though to clear it. "It's no— It's no problem! I mean I kind of work here so... it would be irresponsible of me to leave it? I mean, not that I would, I—"

You can't help the brief chuckle that wrestles its way from your chest to escape unbidden, your hands reaching to take the notebook that he'd begun holding out for you not long after he started talking. In the process your fingertips brush his own and Jungkook lets out a sound that rings suspiciously like a squeak, hands yanking back so suddenly you almost drop the book before you can adjust your own grasp.

"Oop," he says, the tips of his ears beginning to glow pink beneath the tan of his skin. "Sorry, your next session is probably about to start. I'll leave you be."

Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, he departs—  for a second your wired brain almost tricks you into seeing a cloud of dust form behind him from how fast he flees, reminiscent of the cartoon characters from your childhood. 

Well, certainly not the strangest interaction you’ve ever had with Jungkook.

Blinking, you adjust your grip on the book, fingers feeling like they’re slipping against the back for a moment before they finally stop sliding and the notebook remains firm in your hold. Weird, you think, but quickly dismiss it as nothing more than sweaty butterfingers—something you’re prone to getting when stressed. Which, lately, seems to be all the damn time. 

You slip the book into your bag, setting a mental reminder to bring it next time you have a session with Hoseok so that you can ask if it’s his. You don’t actually remember what his notebooks look like (you’ve never really made it a point to burn them into your memory) so there’s a fair chance it could be his. In which case, you’re going to make fun of him for being a dumb doo-doo and dropping his book without even realising. 

Considering Hoseok left before his session could even end, you were kind of expecting at least a few minutes of peace to yourself where you sit and dissociate by staring at the table again. You’re mistaken however, it seems, and you barely get to blink before there is a familiar set of footsteps making their way to your table and the subsequent light, melodic voice that sounds as they announce themselves loudly and clearly, as they usually do. 

“y/n! Honey, I’m here!”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He seems to be in a good mood. May the lord give you strength. 

Jimin’s footfalls change and you look up just in time to catch him begin skipping over to where you’re seated at the table, arms swinging and a bright grin overtaking his face, almost making his eyes disappear. You stare at him, caught off-guard by his sudden sunny disposition (the past few sessions haven’t been awesome to him, after all), but he doesn’t stop grinning at you the whole way over. You think you catch Jungkook giving him a dubious look from the front desk, but can’t be sure before Jimin is right in front of you and blocking your view of anything else with his midsection.

“Hi y/n!” he greets again, body swaying slightly where he stands before he slings his bag off and moves to plop in the chair. “Isn’t it such a lovely day tod—oh? Oh!”

Torn from your inner musings of whether or not you should be concerned at Jimin’s sudden mood shift, your eyes whip to his hand where it’s reaching for the chair seat, plucking something from the surface before he suddenly turns and flops down as originally intended. 

Jimin’s face has morphed into a picturesque expression of curiosity as he holds up what was between him and his seat; a piece of paper, barely a slip, folded neatly in half. The nosy male is quick to open it, clearly enunciating the words that are apparently scrawled across the inside. 

“’You look pretty today’… Aw, y/n, you shouldn’t have !”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost feel the nerve pinch inside your skull. Jimin, of course, knows that you didn’t leave the note for him, but apparently today is one of the days he delights in your suffering. 

You almost contemplate the effort of giving a response before realising that you don’t even need one; the male has quickly lost interest in the paper, leaving it discarded on the table top, and is now staring somewhat wistfully out the window with a slightly dazed grin. Okay, what? When he’d first rocked up, he seemed like he was buzzed and brighter than the sun, in one of those energetic top-of-the-world moods. Now… you’re rethinking that observation. If anything, he seems a little distracted.

And as your session with Jimin begins and proceeds, you quickly realise just how true this is.

Initially, you’d been slightly worried about Jimin rocking up with the same knowledge everyone else on this damn campus no doubt possesses after this morning. However, the further into the session you get, the more it becomes apparent that he’s far too off in space to have picked up anything like that. Not to mention, the more you think about it, the more you realise that you’re not even sure if Jimin even goes here. So would he know about all the latest campus gossip and drama? He is friends with Taehyung…

Ultimately you’re unsure, but cautiously optimistic that Jimin hasn’t seen anything to do with the poem or the post that was released this morning. You also figure that, given how distracted he currently is, he probably wouldn’t have had a chance to pick up on the gossip running through the halls anyway— you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about Jimin pitching in his two cents as to who the author is, but honestly? A small part of you kind of wishes that he knew, if only so you could see who he supported in this scenario, like whether he would defend your honour or whether he would betray you and stomp all over your friendship garden by falling for Sera's propaganda.

You suppose there's no way to know, since you're definitely not going to inform him about everything just to find out. No, this peace and calm that comes from how simply detached he feels from the current messy climate of your life is nice and you don't really want to throw that away just yet. For now, you're content to just sit and let it be. It's actually helping a little more of your anger fizzle out, so that's a definitely plus as well.

Content as you may be to let Jimin stay oblivious and wrapped up in his own little world as he currently is, you can't help but wonder what on earth has him so out of it in the first place. You don't think you've ever seen him like this, all spacey and distracted, dreamy smiles sent into the air where his eyes stare, half-lidded and dazed. You'd almost worry he's high on something were it not the brief moments of clarity where he checks back in to be a little shit and tease you.

Today's session for Jimin consists of a few worksheets he's brought for you to assist him with— two of which are similar enough and the third nothing to do with the others— and you do your best to guide him through them. Usually Jimin isn't that hard to tutor. You figured out early on that he's motivated by positive reinforcement more than anything else, and praise is what tickles him most. With this little hack up your sleeve, you never usually have an issue with guiding him along in sessions. Today, however, not even praise seems to be enough to bring him back to the present long enough to pay attention and actually make a dent in the work.

You like to think you're a pretty patient person, but even you have limits and they're reached about two thirds of the way into the session when Jimin gets distracted once more mid-sentence and leaves you sitting in place waiting for him, for a solid three or so minutes.

"Hey, Park," you bark sharply, hoping that if you sound enough like Hoseok then maybe it will startle him fully out of his reverie. "What's going on with you today? What the hell has you so distracted?"

Jimin jumps in his seat at your sudden tone, and turns to you now with wide eyes. It takes a moment for your words to sink in through the shock, but as soon as they register he sags in his seat and the tension leaves his form. His eyes flick to the right, a shy, lazy smile tugging his lips as his thoughts clearly go somewhere else. Seriously? Just how easily distracted is he right now? You only just got his attention, for crying out loud!

Just when you feel about ready to reach over and strangle an answer out of him, the crimson-haired male speaks and halts your violent thoughts in place.

"It's, um..." Jimin rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, using both hands to fiddle with his decorative ice-cream pen, a sundae with chocolate and cherries sitting cutely on the end. "Say, do you..."

Great, you can't help but think, looks like you're in this for the long haul.

"Do I...?" you prompt him, when you decide he's dawdled long enough in giving you an answer.

"Do you... you know... uh." Jimin rakes a hand through his hair, a button on the sleeve of his light denim jacket almost catching on the strands. He pauses, taking a deep breath, and then turns to meet your eyes— wait, is he blushing? "y/n... you know Lee Sera, right?"

Your entire brain seems to halt, the tip of your pen hitting the tabletop despondently. There's something funny about the way he looks right now, something odd and niggling at the back of your mind, but you can't quite place it because you're sitting there with a mild case of whiplash. What. "What?"

Jimin lets out a noise that is somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, and shifts his gaze down to the paper on the table before him. Fiddling with the ice-cream pen once more, he bites his lip to hide a shy smile— oh, you realise what it is now. He looks like a school girl talking about her crush.

Two beats pass before that thought really sinks in —oh. no—  and it's just in time for Jimin's continuation to sucker punch you in the face.

"Do you know if she... likes anyone?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Your brain decides to pitch in, the words mere millimetres from your lips, 'Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now—'

You just barely hold the words back. The noise you make instead doesn't really sound human, nor does it constitute an actual response of any sort, yet it's all the male gets and still, he's not deterred. It's as though he hasn't noticed the steam currently beginning to spill from the surface of your head, coiling tendrils betraying your current fuming state. What kind of cruel injustice is this? No, you almost want to plead to the heavens and appeal the cruelty currently taking place on this earth— please no. 

“Y-you’re asking me if… if she…” You can’t seem to get the words out, the sounds choking in your throat. Jimin does seem to notice this, taking a moment to send you a somewhat concerned expression. It’s brief, though, and he’s soon off in his thoughts once again.

“Yeah,” he says, appearing bashful for a moment. “Although, that’s kind of silly of me, isn’t it. I mean, it’s Sera. Of course she has someone special, right?”

For one thing, you’re wondering just how you’ve managed to get this far in your tutoring sessions without finding out about Jimin’s evident crush on your ex-best friend. Like, is this a recent thing? Or is it more of a slow-burn, consistent for a long period of time thing? And on the other hand, given the context of the situation (despite full details being privy only to you), you can’t help but marvel at Jimin’s apparent poor taste in suitors.

Really, of all the people he could happen to have a crush on, it has to be her?!

“Nggh…” you choke down the words that attempt to rise to your lips, suddenly very uncomfortable in your seat. A barrage of thoughts rain upon your brain, overloading your mind. 

Does he know? Does he know about the whole mystery poem ordeal that has so far worked to ruin your life in more than one way? Has he seen the posts? Especially the one that Sera made this morning? It’s hard to pinpoint, but when Jimin doesn’t elaborate further and simply resorts to doodling on his paper as he disappears with the fairies once more, you muse that maybe he hasn’t. If he’d seen it, surely he’d be mentioning it as he spoke of her? Bitterly, you recall that no one today could seem to pass up the opportunity to praise her with every fibre of their being. Just the memory makes hot flames of anger lick at your chest, and you do your best to cool them before Jimin picks up on the Big Kill Energy beginning to emanate from your general direction. 

Somewhat thankfully, it’s at this moment that the timer on your phone goes off, signifying the end of the session. A long breath of relief escapes you as you reach for the device, sliding your thumb across the screen to dismiss the timer. The sound seems to have brought Jimin back to the present too, as he’s begun packing away his things in an indolent manner, humming softly to himself. He pulls his phone out, skimming through his feed distractedly as he does so. You decide you may as well do the same, beginning to pack up while he does. There’s no rush, so you actually take your time packing your things away instead of hastily cramming them all in your backpack at once like you usually are inclined to do. 

You almost zone out yourself before a sharp gasp breaks you from whatever reverie you were about to get stuck in. Your eyes whip up to Jimin and, immediately after seeing the expression on his face, a feeling of dread begins to creep into your gut.

“Oh my god…” he murmurs, hushed, eyes wide and glued to the screen of his phone. A beat passes before he scrambles to take it into his hold, ring-adorned finger whipping across the screen as he rapidly reads whatever is on there. You don’t like the way he seems to glow with each moment more that passes. 

“y/n!” he exclaims very suddenly and very, very loudly.  You jump in a combination of fright and tension. “y/n! She— she’s—!”

Oh, god. You wish you could sink into the earth and never resurface. He’s seen it.

Cramming the last few items in your bag, you make use of the fact that Jimin is still staring at his phone and pretend that you don’t hear him, rising from your chair and beginning to walk towards the library doors. Jimin scrambles to his feet, following after you like a puppy, or a child wishing to show their parent something important. “y/n!”

“Hm?” You throw the noise over your shoulder half-heartedly, looking hastily for the best escape route that Jimin isn’t likely to follow you down. Unfortunately this isn’t downtown, this is the second-biggest library on your campus, and there is nowhere you can go that Jimin wouldn’t be able to follow you.

“I— y/n! Do you know that whole mystery poem author thing? I heard something about it a while ago but I just— I only just read about it and! y/n!” Jimin reaches out to grasp you by the sleeve, effectively halting you for a moment.  “It’s just been found that Lee Sera is the author!”

Lord give you strength, you absolutely want to die. 

“O-oh?” The utterance is literally ground through your teeth, but Jimin seems to be in such a state of euphoria that he doesn’t even notice. Of course. 

“I mean, this is such a shock but… I’m not surprised.” The male is positively beaming with pride, looking down at his phone fondly. You think you’re going to be sick.  “She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so….”

You don’t know whether you’re going to implode from anger or frustration, or maybe a dangerous cocktail of both. It’s as though there are live wires beneath your skin, nerves abuzz and wrought with the urge to strangle someone (preferably a certain someone) or hit something (preferably your head, against a desk).

“She sure is something,” you say, the toothy smile you slap on completely juxtaposing the bitter note to your voice. Jimin again, bless him, completely misses it. 

You’re so close to the doors, but not close enough. Please… you just want to go home and angry cry into your pillow.

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented,” Jimin’s tone is full of awe, and you know that you felt murderous this morning but now you feel that and incredibly done. When will karma finish rawing you? Have you not suffered enough? Was everyday living not torture enough? Jimin’s lovestruck babbling stops for no man, “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted—”

“Who’s such a gifted what?”

You jump slightly at the sound of a new voice, eyes whipping over to catch sight of Kim Taehyung as he slips into the library through the widening gap in the doors and makes his way over. It seems he’s donned a loose white shirt and black pants ensemble today, something you notice because of the way they flow as he walks. His question was directed at Jimin, but his eyes seem to be surveying your expression to get a read on the situation. 

Regrettably, you can feel that the face you’re currently pulling… really isn’t a good one. 

The second he sees him, Jimin changes targets and latches onto his friend’s arm instead. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about—oofft—”

You don’t quite catch it, but you swear you glimpse Taehyung— whose cheeks seem to have taken on a flushed tone— deliver a powerful elbow to Jimin’s ribs, who grunts but nonetheless continues, undeterred. You’ve really gotta give him points for his determination and perseverance at this stage. 

“The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now that I think about it, it makes so much sense!” Jimin’s gushing again, and you really think you might be sick sometime soon. Is it possible to be so angry that you become nauseous? You suppose you’re about to find out. “She’s one of the best in her class, isn’t she? Of course she’s able to make such a beautiful poem that goes viral the second it’s released— it’s her!”

Taehyung’s eyes had been trained upon Jimin the whole time he spoke, but now they’re sweeping to you and for some reason, you find yourself freezing in place under their weight. The dark cocoa of his iris’ swim with something indecipherable, a curious tilt to the corner of his heart-shaped mouth. It’s as though he’s watching for your reaction to something. His gaze doesn’t leave you for the entire moment that he answers his friend, “Uh huh. Is that so?”

You’re unnerved— or maybe it’s just a very sudden, very potent overload of your senses. You’re angry, you’re upset and hurt; you’re frustrated now more than ever at the injustice of the situation and how much of an absolutely helpless position you have found yourself in. You want to leave, and you know that if you don’t soon, you’re probably going to start angry crying in the middle of the library and that is a mess you absolutely do not want to experience handling. Besides, you don’t think poor Jungkook at the reception is really equipped to handle those sorts of breakdowns. You really wouldn’t want to put him through it either. 

“Right, well I really have to go. I have a bunch of readings to do, so… better get started on those,” you announce loudly, cutting Jimin off before he can start again and drive you any further towards insanity than he already has. “Finish those sheets, Jimin. Don’t make me chase you up.”

Jimin whips his hand to his forehead in a salute, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Already turning on your heel, you make your escape while you can and wave goodbye. “Okay, see you! Have fun doing whatever it is you’re about to do!”

And then you absolutely yeet yourself out the library doors and all but bolt home. 

Alright. You have a date with your pillow and some tears, and you’re not about to miss it. May the gods of fortune guide you home without anymore incidents that make you want to slam your head against a brick wall, please and thank you. 

x         x         x          x    

“— I just, sort of like, you know, write whatever comes to my head. Like, whatever I feel comes from the heart—”

She follows you like the plague, bits and pieces of her and oh-so-casual reminders that she exists and is tormenting you, everywhere you go, and it takes every inch of your willpower to block her out and keep walking as you have every other time you encountered her preaching to admirers in the public spaces you frequent on campus. Sometimes Sera sees you, and you think that if she weren’t surrounded by half a hundred people sucking her toes then she might chase after you. You’ve been screening her calls, after all, and there have been a lot of them. 

You regret to say, that in the days following that cursed announcement, things don’t begin to die down nearly as much as you hope they would. People are still talking, still whispering about it, and instead of it becoming old news it’s as though instead it’s a rampant forest fire, feeding ravenously on the hot gossip passed between peers at brunch, posts typed out meticulously on various media and dramatic recounts told by the friends of those that, wisely, seem to live under a rock. 

You, of course, couldn’t be any less pleased with how the situation is panning out. 

Your hot, scalding, unadulterated cauldron of bubbling rage has since settled down to a reluctant simmer. This is partly because you realised it is kind of unhealthy to be that angry so constantly, and partly because you’re not a fan of the constipation that results from being so tense with anger. You lose some, you lose some, you suppose. It’s lose-lose these days, babey!

The climate at university isn’t looking good for you, and each day passes with great testament to your willpower and determination not to purchase an automated vehicle and run yourself over. You still go to classes, and attend even the stupidest of lectures and tutorials (you’ve had to suffer through experiencing Seokjin more often than you’d like, but he seems to have toned himself down a little the past few times you’ve seen him— perhaps he’s caught wind of that [redacted] post and actually feels sorry for you?... No, he’s probably just got the flu and doesn’t want to use his voice up to torment you all at once). To be honest, you even kind of forgot about Jimin and his apparent crush for a while— probably would have continued forgetting if it weren’t for your sudden recollection approximately three minutes before his session on Friday. 

With Hoseok gone, early as usual these days, you’re left to stew in your own thoughts and it’s barely a few minutes into dissociating that you remember Jimin’s last session and the knowledge that unfolded towards the end of it. 

True to your luck and arguably a few minutes early to being right on time, you hear Jimin’s patent patter of footsteps and fight the urge to sink in your seat. You really need to get it together because this is ridiculous, you’re not prepared for anything and everything is out to ruin your day one way or another. You’re well on your way to crashing and burning in some sort of way but you still have no idea when exactly it’s gonna go down. An absolute travesty. You’re a mess waiting to get even messier at barely a moment’s notice. 

“Afternoon, y/n!” Jimin crows in greeting as he nears you, a skip in his step and three books in his arms on topics that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Does he even go here? You really wonder sometimes. “The sun says hello!”

You’re unsure whether he’s referring to himself, or the fact that the sun has indeed just peeked out from behind the clouds that have obscured it since early this morning, but either way the best you can manage is a strained smile in returned greeting. You can’t really bring yourself to look at him the same. Have you lost respect for Jimin after finding out that he has a massive crush on Sera, the person single-handedly responsible for ruining your life the most it has ever been ruined before and then going to ruin it further after you confronted her about it? Absolutely. Can you tell him without sounding like an absolute asshole because evidently to everyone but you Sera has managed to keep up a stellar appearance and benevolent persona? No, no you cannot and it’s probably going to end up making you drink questionable fluids later.

Somewhat stupidly optimistic, a small part of you hopes that maybe it was a brief crush, a spur of the moment affection erection, and that this Jimin in front of you now has realised the error of his ways and has moved on from this blight in his romantic record. 

Of course, this is not to be, and the second there’s a lull in conversation after he’s begun working on the task you set him, he begins chattering away as he scribbles his half-hearted answers on the paper. If he starts dotting his I’s with hearts, you really might k-word yourself. 

The topic of his vocal musings is, of course, one Lee Sera. You manage to sit there as he waxes the usual poetic, the stuff you heard last session and the things you’ve heard floating in the halls, with minimal incidence. While he’s talking about Sera, you’re constructing a little zen garden in the depths of your mind and it’s taking all of your brain power. Well, almost all of it— you do catch one little tidbit that makes you halt in your mental raking of sand.

“-- and I mean, I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t stop thinking about all those conspiracy posts on the forum, and, like… well, now they know who the author is, but they haven’t discovered the muse, you know? So like…”

The implication of his words hits you like a freight train, and the anger sizzling in your abdomen cooling suddenly into an odd sense of dread. Oh, oh no.

“I don’t think it is, but what if it really is me she wrote it about…?”

It seems, that Jimin— bless his pure, naive heart— has begun to hope. Learning that “Sera” is the author of a poem he’s suspected to be starred in seems to have crumbled the floodgate keeping the bulk of his feelings at bay. As he continues to mutter and ramble, pausing in his writing every so often to doodle a heart, or a tree with a heart and initials on it, you realise just how deep he seems to be in this little infatuation. 

The very prospect of there being a chance his feelings aren’t unrequited? He can’t help but cling to it, and the more you hear tumble from his mouth the more you realise this tomato-haired crackhead is actually a hopeless romantic, and literally cannot stop himself from hoping, from feeding that fantasy he has. 

Sitting there and listening to him, as the person knowing who the poem is really about and where Sera’s fixation doesn’t lie, you begin to feel a little guilty. You can’t tell him, can’t inform him of the reality because it would compromise you— not only that, he’s so taken with Sera and caught up in the romantic glow of the situation as he sees it that you doubt he’d believe you. That saddens you a little, that realisation. You’ve been friends with Jimin for months now, you’ve tutored him and even had a few impromptu therapy sessions when he rocks up a mess; but not once have you ever seen him or Sera so much as glance at each other, not once has his name passed her lips, and yet… if you were to confess to him, right here and right now, that you are the real author of the poem… would he believe you?

A part of you suspects the answer, and it makes your heart sink. 

You can’t bring yourself to say anything to him. The rest of his session is spent stewing internally in your own perplexing cocktail of guilt and hurt, and you realise only as it ends and you watch him leave through the door that you never even had a chance to convince him that he’s not the muse. It feels cruel, thinking of doing such a thing when you now know how attached he is to the possibility of being the muse with Sera as the author. It would be an awful thing for you to do, to stomp on the morsels of hope that have bloomed within him for his crush. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are the original author, and you know who the poem was really written about— is it not the morally right thing to do, to tell him the truth?

Do you protect his feelings, or do you hurt them for a greater good?

You don’t know which is the right thing to do in this situation, and when you eventually pack your things up and exit the library, it’s with a sick feeling in your stomach and a foreboding tingling of your sixth sense that tells you this… isn’t going to end well.

x     x     x     x     x     x

VVVVVBBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVBT.

It seems to take longer for the ringing to end this time, you note, as you somewhat despondently  watch the phone vibrate and move across the table slightly from the force of it. Then again, it could just be the thousands of calls you’ve screened over the weekend that have you feeling so weary. Most would get the message that your continued silence and refusal to answer indicate, but apparently not Sera. You’ve always known she’s stubborn, and determined, but this is borderline crazy and you’re having trouble wrapping your head around the emergence of all these facets you never knew about or even noticed before now. 

The weekend just gone, the two days that are meant to be your one time of reprieve and sanctuary from the messy shithole your world has become lately, had been desecrated. Not even in the safety of your own home could you pretend your anxieties didn’t exist, the tell-tale vibrations of your phone and the occasional, persistent series of dings that alert you to a new message were ceaseless. It’s a little concerning, her dogged dedication to attempting to contact you, but at this point you’re not even interested in psycho-analysing it. You just want a break, and for the “block call” function on your phone to maybe actually work for once. 

Actually, you’ve been (unfortunately, regrettably) given a lot of insight into sides of Sera you’d never witnessed before, faces she’d kept hidden behind a carefully prepared facade and the persona she wanted to present to the world for the duration of your friendship. The messages she sends you come in groups, and more often than not in completely contradicting tones. Begging, pleading, empty apologies, anger, spite— you’ve seen them all, sometimes in the same message. For the most part, they’re shameless pleas and begs for you to talk to her, to answer her calls and listen to what she has to say. Some of them, though, give you a massive whiplash when you read them.

One such text from mid-Sunday reads from the notification bar, “i’m doing what you wanted, what the fuck is your problem? why are you so mad? honestly, at this point it’s a little selfish of you, i’m sacrificing so damn much just to…” 

Another, barely an hour after that one, was quick to backtrack, “llisten y/n, i’m sso fuckiggn sorry for that last tesct. it was so uncalled for im so sorry. i’m trying so hrard but you wont evenn anser my callss, and im jsut, imr realluy having g scucjh a hard time with all of this stuff goigng on adn…”

You didn’t click on the notification or open them, so you don’t actually know what she says in the latter half of her messages. You don’t think you want to though, if the start of some of them are any indication as to what the rest will hold. 

As if your phone being constantly lit up in some way or another due to her wasn’t enough, you also had to bear witness to the rest of the bullshit manifesting at her hands. In actuality, it was largely this that is responsible for relighting your rage pit and getting you back on the “incredibly pissed and absolutely unimpressed” track. 

Contrary to the texts and voicemails Sera left you over the course of the weekend, she is simultaneously active on the cursed forum that she used to start all this, and the posts you've been seeing only serve to fuel your anger. At one point you got so mad you nearly threw your phone into your pot of noodles, the only thing stopping you being that you’re better than that and you’d rather throw yourself off the bank into the nearby river than let her get one up on you in any way. 

Pleading and begging she would be in your inbox, and then she’d turn and press send on a post in the forum that completely contradicts whatever crap she bawled at you in her messages. The forum is currently an absolute mess of shipping posts (no longer starring you, but her) with varying suspected muses, the odd conspiracy post,  and questions directed her as the ‘author’ that she answered in full character. You could deal with the shipping posts (well, all but one. That one made your blood boil and your stomach twist into an ugly pit of warped envy), but her impersonating you as the author and answering questions about your work as though she wrote it herself? You’re ready to spill blood. 

The most common question, of course, in all its variations is something best encapsulated by this particular gem that shows up late Sunday evening: ‘omg, i love love love moonlight sonata! the second i read it i couldn’t help but fall in love, whether with you or the poem idk yet! I just wanted to know, like probably everyone does, who was the muse?’

That [redacted]’s response to this is probably the one that gets your blood boiling the most too. 

‘hi, thank you so so much for all the love! its so strange since this was never meant to get out and i never really get such response to my works,, but i’m getting more used to it and im so so grateful!! haha! its actually funny you say that,, it was so embarrassing at the time but i once had a teacher say that they thought i could make someone fall in love with me with a poem alone ><  hehe i guess they were right! and i did write moonlight sonata for someone, but i’m not sure if i should reveal that just yet… you’ll have to wait and see!’

Murder is illegal and so is manslaughter. Again, with more feeling. Murder is illegal, and so is manslaughter. There. You take in a deep breath, attempting desperately to find some zen after recalling all the forum posts you’d seen over the duration of the weekend. You suppose the only silver lining you’re going to be able to find in this is the fact that Sera doesn’t actually know who you wrote the poem for. Well, she might have a suspicion, but you’ve never told her. And even so, there would be no point in her ‘revealing’ who your muse is, since she’s claimed she is the author and ‘confessing’ someone would lead to circumstances she’d likely rather avoid.

But, now that you think about it, shouldn’t that mean that she’d try and avoid mentioning it altogether? If so, why is she feeding it every chance she gets…? 

You don’t get to spare that train of thought much time, since despite how long the weekend drags on, the next day arrives very quickly. Before you know it, almost the entire day is gone and you’re zipping through your tutoring session with Hoseok, helping the somewhat frantic boy with a last-minute assessment he’d completely forgotten about. You’ve spent the whole day successfully avoiding anything to do with Sera and that stupid poem, and you’re actually feeling quite good at this point, in comparison to how you’ve been feeling the past, well, the past month or so. The hour passes quicker than you’d like and before long you’re packing your things up and helping Hoseok with his own bulging assortment of textbooks and notepads before they all go tumbling to the floor. You swear you see some receipts with hasty scribbles littering the bottom of his bag but you try not to look since you don’t want to ruin your progress and stress yourself out. You’re in such an oddly peaceful mood you’re actually thinking of asking Jimin if he wants to spend the session outside under the trees in the new garden the university brought in. Uncharacteristic, you know, but what is the human experience if not getting so stressed and exceeding your emotional capacity so extensively that you transcend all planes of feeling and feel contrarily at peace?

It’s as you’re exiting the library after your session with Hoseok, carrying some of his things for him while he fixes his bag, that the universe decides to remind you of your place and the fact that you can never truly avoid your problems in life. Apparently, they’re prone to chasing you down and sniffing you out like a bloodhound, and like a particularly nasty yeast infection they never truly go away until you seek professional help and purchase an antibiotic restraining order for that shit. 

You barely get the words, ‘See you on Wednesday, Hoseok’, out of your mouth before you hear another familiar sound, much sooner than you anticipated. Hoseok returns the farewell and turns away, still cramming the rest of his things in his bag as he begins to move off. A laugh, light and airy and very familiar, brushes your ears and you turn with a slight smile on your face. Excellent, given he doesn’t see Hoseok making his quick escape, then he’ll probably still be in a good enough mood to agree to studying outside with you.

You turn, greeting already on the tip of your tongue, and promptly feel the words die in your throat and the smile on your lips drop completely. Oh, for the love of fuck.

Jimin is smiling, laughing, as he comes down the hallway, cheeks flushed pink and eyes disappearing into gleeful crescents— it’s a sight that would made you smile if it weren’t for the fact that he’s not alone.   

The woman of the hour, the source of your suffering for the past month or so, is striding along next to the oblivious male, like the scorpion perched on the frog’s back. She’s placed her hand on the back of his arm as they walk, smiling at something he’s said as he chatters away, resembling an eager puppy as he does so. You recognise the move as one of her favourite lightly flirty ones. 

Somewhat belatedly, your flight response kicks in, and you go to move and leave while you can—  but its not before Sera turns and notices you standing there, mid-movement.

The shift is instantaneous. You might have thought that the interested expression she was directing at Jimin was genuine, if it weren’t for the way her entire demeanour changes the second she catches sight of you. Your first instinct is to be angry that she’d managed to find her way to Jimin, and that he’d probably fall for whatever bullshit spouted from her mouth about being the author, but as you see the slight, victorious flicker pass through her gaze, you become angry for another reason entirely. The suspicion weighing heavy in your gut makes your blood boil as Sera straightens, angling her body away from Jimin completely and all but non-verbally dismissing him, as though he’s no longer even there.

Jimin halts, brows drawing together as he takes in the change in Sera’s behaviour, confusion colouring his puppy-like features as he looks around for anything that could have triggered it. His eyes fall on you and they light in recognition, smile returning to his face as he waves at you, some of his crimson locks falling across his forehead from the movement. “Oh, y/n! Hey! I was just on my way to the session!”

Something churns in your gut, a foreboding feeling that feels far too icky to touch. 

 He takes a step closer, but pauses when Sera moves forward. Your entire body is tense with the conflicting urges to run and sock her in the face, limbs coiled and ready to spring you away. You’re going to have a massive crick in your neck after this. She begins stepping closer, hand stretching out as though to touch your arm, her brows drawing together in as close an approximation as she can get to regretful.

“y/n, I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” she says, tone having adopted an edge you’re very familiar with. Is she stupid? You know all her manipulation tactics, what is the point in employing them now? You think you know, though, and the thought only serves to stoke the bubbling pit of molten rage in your stomach. 

Her hand reaches for your arm, trying to touch it, and you move it out of the way before she can, taking a few firm steps back.  “Don’t touch me,” you warn, unable to help the glare that your features are pulled into. “I’m not interested in talking to you. I don’t want to.”

She’s really pushing it. You’re a patient woman, but even you have a limit and she’s fast approaching it. 

A flicker of irritation flashes across Sera’s features before she masks it with her go-to ‘kicked puppy’ look. From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin flounder in confusion, probably because he has absolutely no idea what happened between you. 

“y/n,” Sera whimpers, and when you see Jimin shift in concern behind her you realise why she’s acting the way she is. She’s using him as collateral, and she used him for land development to actually lock you down. Seems she doesn’t take being avoided very well. “Why are you being so harsh? I— I’m doing what you asked, why are you still so mad?”

You can’t help the venomous response that rips itself off your tongue, glare deepening. “Cut the shit. You know exactly why I’m pissed— it’s the same fucking reason I was pissed last week, except now it’s worse because you’ve made it worse. How could you possibly think any of what you’ve been doing is what I asked?”

You can only be glad that Hoseok has already left and the hallway is mostly deserted, the sole witness being Jimin to the spectacle beginning to unfold as Sera places a hand to her chest, sniffing and throwing her other hand out for emphasis. “Please, y/n, what do I have to do to fix this? I really have been doing what you asked, I’ve been—”

It’s as though something snaps within you, almost an entire week of her bullshit placing you at your wits end. You’re fuming, practically spitting flames, and it’s just barely that you hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around her throat. “You’ve been doing nothing but make things worse for me! You started this whole thing, you continued feeding into it even though you knew what it would mean for me— there is no fixing this!”

“y/n,” Sera’s eyes have begun to water, and you’re so enraged you don’t even see Jimin taking a few alarmed steps closer. “Please, I-I’m so sorry, I’ve said it a thousand times that I am s-so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare come to me and tell me you’re sorry. You’re not sorry, you were never sorry, and you clearly don’t regret a thing because the entire time since last Wednesday all you’ve been doing as parading around and proclaiming yourself as the author of that stupid poem when we both know it isn’t you!”

Sera flinches back, a visible clash of hurt and rage whipping across her features. It seems she settles on the latter emotion, face dropping into a glare and mouth opening to hurl a response back. The front she has put up is falling apart the longer this goes on. “I’ve told you so many times how much I regret what I did, how can you say—”

“y/n, what the hell?” Jimin’s voice has a sharp edge you don’t think you’ve ever heard before as he steps forward suddenly, looking incredulous and angry at once as he suddenly reminds you of his presence. “She’s the author, stop being so horrible. Isn’t she your friend? How could you doubt her? Is it so hard to believe that she’d want to write a poem for the person she likes?”

You’re momentarily stunned by his words, confused as to why he’s stepping in to defend her so avidly even with his little crush. It takes a moment, but it clicks eventually— dread fills the pit of your stomach as you realise that the idealistic hopes Jimin had revealed to you last session about being the subject of the poem have been exploited by a scorpion wishing to cross the pond.

“Shut up, this doesn’t concern you.”

Torn violently from your thoughts by the harsh, unexpected words, your gaze whips back to Sera, eyes wide. Jimin flinches, a soft noise of shock and surprise escaping him as his own wide-eyed gaze centers on her and hurt floods his deep chocolate irises. “Wh-what? But you said—?”

“Shut. Up,” she grinds out through teeth clenched so tight that part of you thinks they might shatter beneath the pressure.

Jimin fumbles, his confusion urging him to continue when he probably shouldn’t. “When we were walking here you said that you… that I was—”

Sera explodes, like a bomb with faulty wires and a timer that went off too soon. “I LIED! I’m not the author, and even if I was, that poem would never be about YOU!”

In the seconds that follow her booming exclamation, her words ring in the absolute silence of the hall. For a moment, it’s still. Then your eyes flick to Jimin’s face and you see how it falls, and all of a sudden it hits you— the realisation of what she just said, and who she said it to. How awful Jimin must feel, to hear those things directed at him. Now, for a moment, you see red, and you feel it slowly climb up your body from your toes to your fingertips and to your chest. You aren’t even aware of moving until you’re barely a foot away from Sera and your arm is whipping through the air, body apparently more in control than your brain.

You’ve never slapped anyone before, didn’t ever think that you really would, but the motion comes easily and the harsh impact of your hand against Sera’s cheek is satisfying in an odd, sickening way. Apparently you pack quite a punch when absolutely fucking livid, because her head turns from the force of your blow, her eyes shooting wide. You’ve left a mark in her foundation. Jimin’s crushed expression crosses your mind’s eye once more and suddenly the satisfaction you felt prior isn’t enough. You go to move again.

You get barely a split second into the movement before arms are looping under your armpits, your body being hauled away and out of hitting range. You’re so angry you barely pay attention to who it is, your focus on the piece of work in front of you and the absolute spitting rage that has swallowed you whole at the sight of her.

“How dare you—” you seethe, the words spilling like acid from your tongue faster than you can think them. “How could you say that to him—”

Everything suddenly hastens into movement from the stillness that had possessed it before. Distantly, you realise the person restraining you has stopped moving backwards and is attempting to calm you, but that doesn’t carry much weight when you hear a choked noise and your gaze is drawn suddenly to the side.

Jimin has taken a step back, almost stumbling in his leather boots, his hands trembling and brows drawn together, expression nothing short of crestfallen. You swear you catch his bottom lip quiver, and then your attention is taken by the way his dark eyes begin to water right in front of you. You’re almost rooted to the spot in shock as they begin to fill with tears, but you don’t get to see them fall because before they can,  Jimin turns on his heel and begins walking away, pace quick and hurried. 

“y/n.” The red has cleared from your vision enough that you now realise the person restraining you is Hoseok, his voice sounding close to your ear. He speaks again and you freeze because it’s with a tone you’ve never heard come from him before. It’s fury, but quiet and controlled unlike your hot spark of rage, and it makes you snap back into your senses instantly, spine straightening. “Go after him. He’s hurting.”

The brain cell rattling around in your brain reserved for mortal combat might be telling you to finish Sera off while you can, but Jimin is your friend and the reason you want to kill her in the first place is because she did hurt him. And the look on his face… you’ve never seen it on him before and you never want to again. For whatever reason, her careless words seem to have cut him deep, and you need to go and make sure he’s okay.

Without a second thought, you slip out of Hoseok’s arms and he lets you go. You begin in the direction that Jimin is going, footsteps hastening in an attempt to close the distance. You forget about Sera in favour of chasing more pressing things. “Jimin—”

The call had slipped out of your lips unwittingly, but the sound of it seems to set Jimin off. He quickens his pace further, and his legs aren’t that much longer than yours but the muscles are clearly more developed since you’re eating his dust even more than before.  He disappears around the corner, and you just barely catch sight of his behind before you have to push to glimpse him once more. 

Whether he doesn’t want to be followed by anyone, or whether he— heaven forbid— thinks it’s Sera coming after him, Jimin does his best to try and lose you. Around twists and turns, down hallways that you didn’t even know this building had, you chase him for what feels like forever and you can’t pinpoint where but somewhere in that time the two of you transitioned to almost running, Jimin’s light jog-speedwalk fusion easily getting the better of your own weak attempt. 

Despite the heaviness of the situation, you can’t help but marvel that he really didn’t successfully streak across the university sports field for nothing— he’s super fast, and the only reason you’re able to keep up somewhat is through the temporary rush of adrenaline that slapping Sera gave you and the sheer determination not to lose him. You don’t normally have this much stamina, after all, but you don’t think Jimin is going to be running out on the other hand either. If he takes you up one more flight of stairs it’s game over for you. 

“Jimin, wait—” you attempt to call out once or twice, but he never turns around, and each time you do so just results in him moving faster. You get the message quickly, but still have to bite your tongue to quell the natural urge to call out that rises. 

The longer he goes, the more frantic he seems. Once or twice you think you see his shoulders shake, but can’t tell if it’s him or the rattling of your vision from your jerky movements. Jimin can’t evade you forever though, and this building and its hallways aren’t endless. Eventually you reach a dead-end, and the red-haired male gives up. He stumbles a little, making it through the doorway before he moves to the wall, his back to you. 

Slowing down from your jog, you feel the tax of the exercise catch up with you as your breathing works to compensate the uncharacteristic energy use. You pause as you make your way towards him, somewhat tentative now he’s backed in a corner. Well, corner might not be the right word for it. Somehow, in all his evading, Jimin has managed to lead the two of you to the small balcony on the top floor of the building, barely anything more than a little alcove to overlook the horizon. It faces the direction that the sun sets, and you receive a view of that now, the soft reds, pinks  and oranges a contrast to the light blue of Jimin’s denim jacket but a compliment to the scarlet of his hair. 

Despite the fact you chased him this far, wanting to comfort him, now that you’re here… you feel kind of bad for intruding. Still, you didn’t tail him through the entire building for nothing. Tentatively, you make your way over to where he is. You’re not very loud, but he seems to sense your arrival when you step out onto the balcony with him, back still to you. You take another step closer, going to peer around his shoulder, but he flinches, bringing his hand up over the side of his face and using the other to wipe under his nose.

“Don’t look,” he sniffs. “This is humiliating.”

At his words, you feel your heart sink right down to your feet. The resulting sensation is an empty ache in your chest, something you think you can best describe as empathy that is a little too deeply rooted. Suddenly you realise that, in a way, this is your fault. You wrote the poem that ended up hurting him, and even though you weren’t the one who said those things to him, you’re the one that provided the fodder. 

You don’t know what to say, so much was on the tip of your tongue trying to burst forth before, but now it’s as though your voice is stuck in your throat. You swallow, shuffling the slightest bit closer, and attempt to pull something meaningful from the dredges of your mind. 

“It’s okay. Everyone looks a little bit ugly when they cry, you know.” Not what you intend to come out, but it comes out anyway. 

It pulls an unwitting laugh from Jimin though, the sound tinged with the echo of a sob. He turns and presses his back to the wall, covering his face with both hands, and slides down until he’s seated on the floor, knees drawn up. You watch him for a moment, the way his form trembles slightly and he sniffs, before you’re carefully placing yourself down next to him, trying not to be too obnoxious in your movements.

You wait a moment, partly because you want to see if he is going to say anything and partly because you, yourself, have no idea where to start. It occurs to you, though, that maybe what he wants isn’t comfort in the form of words. When he doesn’t speak, and the moment still doesn’t feel right to say anything, you ease a little closer and, when he doesn’t protest or shift away, you do the only thing you can think might comfort him in this moment. 

Silently, you move your arm up and around, slipping it over his shoulders and pulling him close to you into a half-embrace, feeling somewhat like a mother hen sheltering her chick from the harshness of the world. Jimin stills for a second, frozen in your arms, but then he lets himself fall into you and it seems the proverbial dam holding his tears at bay breaks. 

He lets himself sob now, hands still over his face and his body shaking against your side as he curls up into you and draws his knees closer to his body. His tears flood his hands, some escaping to drip down onto your legs and shirt.  Your heart aches at the sounds escaping him— trust Sera to unintentionally pinpoint someone’s deeply hidden trauma when insulting them. The only thing stronger than the dislike you feel for her right now is the regret that you allowed the circumstances of your own situation to spill out and affect other innocent people in your life, like Jimin.

 You spend some time simply sitting there, letting Jimin cry out the hurt against you at the cost of your shirt and jeans, running your hand soothingly along his back and arm. You place your other hand on the knee closest to you, not much but another small symbol of comfort you hope he receives. He’s in a state for a while, sobbing and hiccuping until his voice grows a little hoarse and thick from the snot congesting his nose. Eventually, he calms enough that his body no longer shakes with his weeping, and after a period of silence broken only by a few sniffles here and there, the male pulls away so that he’s no longer leaning on you like the tower of Piza. 

You let him slip out of your hold, simply sitting and waiting for him to speak— you could sense the intention in the way he wipes his face and swallows, readying himself. You don’t have to wait long. 

“This is probably the one thing I’m most afraid of in life, you know,” he croaks softly, a humourless laugh tacked onto the end. Your heart gives a painful throb, but you bite your tongue from comforting him just yet. You can feel there’s more to come. 

Jimin seems to finally manage to wipe his face somewhat clean, at last letting his hands drop onto his lap and allowing his head to fall back softly against the wall. His profile is illuminated by the last reaches of the sun, casting him in a soft pink glow that almost disguises the redness around his eyes and nose. 

Watching him so keenly as you are, it doesn’t escape you when he opens his mouth to speak again and his chin wobbles, his gaze directed to the ceiling of the alcove. His voice wavers, growing strained as he vocalises the thoughts weighing him down so.

“It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” he says softly, still looking upwards. “Everyone’s afraid of rejection, but for me… I can’t— I can’t… handle it.”

“It’s stupid, to be crying over this,” he sniffles, eyes watering but no tears falling as he attempts to hold them back. “It’s stupid, but it just— it just hurts, you know? It fuckin’ hurts. All the people I admire, and the people I have admired in my life…”

Jimin blinks, a single tear slipping down over his cheekbone of its own accord. He lets it go, not bothering to wipe it. You’re caught frozen in your spot, watching with wide eyes as he reveals the most hidden part of himself and entrusts it to you. From just your usual interactions, you’d never have garnered that this side of him even exists.  He takes a deep breath, a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter who they are, what they are to me, it never seems to change. Either they don’t want me from the beginning, or they— they find something more important to them than me and they leave.”

“A-and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but think,” he chokes a little, voice growing thicker and wobbling dangerously. He blinks rapidly, fresh tears burning his eyes. His voice cracks on the last of his words. “I can’t help but think, w-what if that’s what is meant for me? W-what if there’s no one who will stay?... What if no one will want me, y/n?”

His words are a boot crushing your heart beneath its sole, and you swear even with all you’ve been through in the past month or so you have never felt as gutted before as you feel now for him. The last question to leave his mouth seems to bring the rest of his feelings to the surface, his eyes closing as a soft sob slips from his lips once more. He brings his hands to his face again, elbows resting on the top of his knees, and you’re so busy trying to squash down your own tears for him that for a moment, you can only sit there and listen to him. You feel a bit lost. 

What could you ever possibly do to even begin healing a wound that seems to run that deep?

You know, realistically, there isn’t anything you can do, and it’s not your place nor wound to heal. But still, you know there is something you can do to ease it a little in this moment, you just need to figure it out. It’s at that thought that suddenly, you receive a stroke of genius, an idea that honestly is a little embarrassing but definitely better than nothing coming to mind. 

Already feeling somewhat humiliated in advance, you reach for your bag and open it enough to stick your hand in and rifle through it for the familiarly shaped object. Jimin has shown you one of the most vulnerable parts of him, so you can live with the embarrassment this once. Your hand finally locates what it’s looking for, pulling out the beaten-up A5 spiral notebook that has lived in your backpack for the past two years. Jimin either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough at the moment to pay attention to whatever the shuffling sound is, which you’re kind of thankful for because you need a minute or two to actually follow through with your idea.

You slip your hand back into your bag as you open the notebook with the other, performing a lucky-dip of sorts into the risky depths of your bag one more in search of a pen. You find one and pull it out without discrimination— god, alright, it’s the rainbow ink gel pen with a crystal cat on the end that you bought on a whim at the dollar store. Guess that’s the hill you’re dying on this afternoon.

Peeking to the side to make sure Jimin isn’t watching— he’s still crying into his hands, something you probably shouldn’t be slightly relieved about in the moment— you try and flick through the book as quietly as possible, eyes scanning the messy scribbles on each page.

This, is your little rough idea scrapbook. The only thing that’s in a state anywhere near as chaotic and messy as this is your phone notes, and you really don’t want to think about those right now. In this old, beaten notebook that surprisingly hasn’t run out of pages yet, is where you usually scribble your ideas for writings, or poems. You’re looking for one of the latter currently, a rough draft that came to you in a fever dream and you copied onto paper in a haze, before never touching again. It’s incomplete, but you’re finally about to give it the ending it deserves. 

Finally, you catch sight of it on one of the pages to the back, the words “softer than the embrace of the moon” jumping out at you. Ah, this is it. The rough draft of Moonlight Sonata, the poem that ended up turning your life on it’s head and leaving you for dead in the dust from the upheaval.

Making sure Jimin is still not focusing on you, you uncap the stupid, glittery pen and hastily put it to paper, throwing down whatever enters your head that makes sense and feels right. You don’t think you’ve ever written anything this fast that wasn’t a heap of absolute trash, but perhaps it’s the emotional potency of the moment that has you scrawling lines across paper with ease. 

You only take a few minutes, and after which you somehow simultaneously feel the cathartic effects of creating a poem and the embarrassment of the fact someone else is about to see it. Well, it’s not Moonlight Sonata in any way, but this little abridged creation… it’s not too bad.

Quietly as you can so you don’t prematurely disturb his weeping, you tear the page from the book and make sure there’s nothing on the back and the old title is scribbled out before you fold it in half, turning to Jimin at last.

Gently, you reach and brush some of the dyed strands from his forehead, successfully catching his attention. Jimin peels his hands from his face, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot but containing a curious glint as they turn to you.

You opt not to say anything just yet, pulling one hand towards you and placing the folded piece of paper onto his palm. Confused, he stares at it for a moment before bringing it back towards him and tentatively unfolding it. You wait until he begins to scan the page before you speak. 

“Just because you weren’t the subject of that poem, doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of being the subject of any.”

His head whips to you as your soft words catch in his ears, eyes wide and glistening slightly, full lips parted and mouth slightly ajar. You can feel your face beginning to burn, but you ignore it for the sake of Jimin. You’ve come this far, you need to say it and he needs to hear it. 

“There are many things about you to fall in love with, Jimin, and even if the author didn’t, I know someone will,” your voice shakes slightly as you speak, a small smile touching your lips. Something pops into your mind before you can call it quits, and you feel the rest of your face light on fire in anticipation. Right. Just do it, pussy. It was embarrassing when done to you, and it’s embarrassing to be the one doing it, too.

This is so humiliating, but you’ll do it… for him. Fuck this whole friendship thing, man.

Taking another deep breath, you reach for the hand closest to you and take it into your grasp, pulling it closer. “And I know it hurts, right now, a lot… and it might hurt for a while, and that’s okay.” You swallow your embarrassment and bring his palm to your lips, placing a soft kiss there, before moving his hand back and placing it over his heart. “But my mother always said kisses take the pain away, so I hope this can ease it, even a little.”

In the moments following your little spiel, it’s silent, and Jimin stares at you in a mixture of shock, appreciation, and something else you’re not quite emotionally equipped to decipher. The stillness breaks in the next second when his eyes water once more and he lets out a long whine that sounds suspiciously like your name, and to save face you let out a loud groan as you reach and pull him into a hug again, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Hopeless,” you say, shuffling you both so you’re facing the sunset and watching the last of it slip past the horizon. “If you keep crying, how are we going to explain your face after? I know I told you everyone is a little ugly when they cry but you’re really— ow!”

Jimin chokes a sobbed laugh into your shoulder, retracing his fingers from where they jabbed your ribs. You glance from the corner of your eye and can’t help the smile that rises when you see he’s clutching the scribbled poem you finished for him to his chest.

“Shut up and let me commit the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me to memory and watch the sunset before I push you over the railing,” he grumbles, smile evident in his voice. You roll your eyes again, face still warm from your embarrassment. You relax into each other, soaking up the last of the sun’s warmth while it’s there.

Backtalk, after you willingly humiliated yourself to make him feel better? Fuck this friendship thing, bro. Gremlins have rights, too.

  — • masterpost | prev. | four | next • —

[kaigogo]

hoo boy here we go.

Original Text

魔道祖师

作者: 墨香铜臭

第一章：重生

“魏无羡死了。大快人心！”

乱葬岗大围剿刚刚结束，未及第二日，这个消息便插翅一般飞遍了整个修真界，比之当初战火蔓延的速度有过之而无不及。

一时之间，无论是世家名门，还是山野散修，人人都在议论此次由四大玄门世家联率、大小百家参与混战的围剿行动。

“好好好，果然是大快人心！手刃这夷陵老祖的是哪位名士英豪？”

“还能是谁。他师弟小江宗主江澄呗，云梦江氏、兰陵金氏、姑苏蓝氏、清河聂氏四大家族打头阵，大义灭亲，把魏无羡那老巢‘乱葬岗’一锅端了。”

“我得说句公道话：杀得好。”

立即有人抚掌亮声应和：“不错，杀得好！要不是云梦江氏收养他栽培他，他魏婴这辈子就是个混迹乡野市井的庸徒……还谈什么别的。原先的江宗主可是把他当亲儿子在养，他倒好，公然叛逃，与百家为敌，丢尽了云梦江氏的脸，还害得江家几乎满门惨死。什么叫忘恩负义白眼狼？这就是！”

“江澄居然就让这厮嚣张了这么久，换了是我，当初魏某人叛逃时就不是只捅他一刀，而是直接清理门户，否则他也没机会做出后来那些丧心病狂之事。对这种人，还讲什么同门同修青梅竹马的情面。”

“可我听到的不是这样的啊？魏婴不是因为自己修炼邪术遭受反噬、受手下鬼将撕咬蚕食而死的吗？听说活活被咬碎成了齑粉呢。”

“哈哈哈哈……这就叫现世报。我早就想说了，他养的那批鬼将就像一群没拴好的疯狗到处咬人，最后咬死自己，活该！”

“话虽如此，可此次围剿乱葬岗，若不是小江宗主依夷陵老祖的弱点拟定计划，成功与否还难说呢。你们可别忘了魏无羡手上有什么东西，当初一晚上三千多个成名修士是怎么全军覆没的。”

“不是五千吗？”

“三千五千都差不多。我觉得五千更有可能。”

“果真丧心病狂……”

“他死之前毁掉了阴虎符，倒也算积了点阴德，否则留下那鬼东西继续贻害人间，更加罪孽深重喽。”

“阴虎符”三字一出，忽然一阵静默，似乎都在顾忌着什么。

片刻之后，一人慨叹道：

“哎……要说这魏无羡，当年也是仙门之中极富盛名的世家公子，并非不曾有过佳迹。年少成名，何等风光恣意……究竟他是怎么走到这一步的……”

话题转移，议论声又纷纷然起来。

“由此可见，修炼终归是非走正统路子不可。邪魔歪道，一时风光无限，好像很嚣张很了不起？嘿，最后是什么下场？”

掷地有声：“死无全尸！”

“也不全是修炼之道害的，归根结底还是魏无羡此人人品太差，天怒人怨啊。所谓善恶终有报，天道好轮回……”

……

身死之后，盖棺定论。所论内容大同小异，偶有微弱的异声，也会立刻被压了下去。

只是每个人的心头都还有一缕阴霾挥之不去。

虽说夷陵老祖魏无羡已身死乱葬岗，但事成之后，却无法召唤他的残魂。

他的魂魄，也许是在被万鬼吞噬之时一同被分食了，又也许是逃逸了。

若是前者，自然皆大欢喜普天同庆。然而，夷陵老祖有翻天灭地、移山倒海之能——至少传闻中是这样的，他若要抗拒召魂，也不是什么难事。一旦他来日元神复位，夺舍重生，届时，玄门百家甚至整个人间必将迎来更加丧心病狂的报复和诅咒，陷入暗无天日和腥风血雨之中。

因此，将一百二十座镇山石兽压在乱葬岗顶后，各大家族开始进行频繁的召魂仪式，同时严查夺舍，搜集各地异象，全力警戒。

第一年，风平浪静。

第二年，风平浪静。

第三年，风平浪静。

……

第十三年，依然风平浪静。

至此，终于越来越多的人相信，也许魏无羡也没那么了不起，也许他真的神魂俱灭了。

纵使曾经翻手为云覆手雨，也终归有一日成为被翻覆的那一个。

没有人会被永远奉在神坛之上，传说也仅仅只是传说而已。

-------------------

作者有话要说：

夶夶们久等了！

这篇文实在是卡的很厉害，也因为三次元的各种情况拖了很久……总之接受殴打（抱头）

魏无羡是主，主受，不要站逆_(:з)∠)_

看上去人品非常糟糕对不对，请相信我不会让主角人品太差劲的。

是跟渣反不太一样的一篇文。

总之，希望大家喜欢 ^_^

当然，不喜欢也不要勉强啊哈哈哈哈……

Translation

The Founder of Demon Cultivation 

Author: Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Chapter 1: Rebirth

“Wei Wu Xian is dead! Everyone rejoice!”

The siege at Luanzang Hill (The Burial Mounds) had recently come to an end and in less than two days, the news had flew around the entire cultivation world as if it had wings, spreading faster than that of war. 

For a while, regardless if one was from a prestigious clan or an independent cultivator, everyone talked about the time the four great clans united to lead hundreds to participate in the siege.

“Well, well, well! This is indeed something to celebrate! Which worthy Master was the hero that killed the Yiling Patriarch? 

“Who else could it have been? His younger brother Jiang Cheng of the Yunmeng Clan, along with the Jin Clan of Lanling, the Lan Clan of Gusu, and the Nie Clan of Qinghe. The four great families were the ones to justly wipe out Wei Wu Xian’s old lair.

“Fairly speaking, I must say it’s poetic justice.” 

Someone immediately clapped their hands in agreement. “Yes, it is indeed! If it weren’t for the Jiang clan of Yunmeng adopting and educating him, that Wei Ying would have just been a mediocre cultivator....that’s all there is to say. The former head of the Jiang Clan raised Wei Ying as if he were his own son, yet he publicly betrayed them, became an enemy to all cultivators, brought shame upon the Jiang name, and was even the reason nearly all the family members died tragically. He’s the epitome of an ingrate that bit the hand that fed him!

“I’m surprised Jiang Cheng allowed this guy to act so arrogantly for such a long time. If it were me, as soon as that Wei defected, I would not have only stabbed him; I would have immediately disposed of his clan so that he wouldn’t have had an opportunity to do the insane things he did later. Growing up together as friends and fellow cultivators of the same clan wouldn’t matter when dealing with a sort of person like him.”

“But that’s not what I heard? Didn’t practicing demonic cultivation backfire on Wei Ying, causing him to be devoured by his Ghost General and demons? I heard that he was completely torn to pieces.”

“Hahahaha...that’s what I call karma. Earlier I was saying that those ghosts of his were like a pack of unleashed wild dogs biting people everywhere. And, ultimately, he was bitten to death himself. Serves him right!” 

“Be that as it may, the siege on Luan Zang Hill (The Burial Mounds) was successful because it depended on Jiang Cheng’s plan which focused on the Yiling Patriarch’s weakness. Don’t forget about the object Wei Wu Xian possessed or how he slaughtered three thousand accomplished cultivators in one night.”

“Wasn’t it five thousand?”

“Three thousand, five thousand, it’s practically the same. I think it’s more likely five thousand.”

“He really was deranged....”

“Well it’s good that the Yin Tiger Amulet (Stygian Tiger Amulet) was destroyed before he died. Otherwise, had that evil thing been left behind to continue harming mankind, he would have even more sins to answer for.”

“The Yin Tiger Amulet (Stygian Tiger Amulet).” As soon as those words were uttered, there was a sudden silence and everyone seemed apprehensive as if something worried them.

After a moment, there was a reluctant sigh from someone who said, “Well… Back then, Wei Wu Xian was a gifted cultivator from a highly respectable clan who made a name for himself when he was young. How did he end up walking down this path…”

At this change of topic, voices rang out with numerous comments.

“This just shows that, in the end, cultivators must not stray from the correct, traditional path. Using evil, crafty tricks briefly give one boundless possibilities and it would seem great, right? But what ends up happening?”

“There wasn’t even a corpse left!”

“You know, the path he chose isn’t the only reason for all the trouble he caused. Ultimately, Wei Wu Xian thought he was better than everyone else. But everyone pays the price for their actions, good or evil, and it follows into the next life.”

......

After his death, there was not much to say about Wei Wu Xian. Most discussions were the same, though not without a few unusual theories that when thrown out were promptly shut down.

Still, the thought of him lingered in the back of everyone’s mind. Although Wei Wu Xian died at Luan Zang Hill (The Burial Mounds), the issue remained that his soul could not be summoned. His soul may have been consumed by ten thousand demons. 

Or it may have escaped.

If it were the former, then naturally everything was fine. However, the Yiling Patriarch was capable of shaking the heavens and moving mountains—— Or at least that was the rumor. Therefore, if it were the latter, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to resist being summoned.  And if his soul ever returned to his body or was reborn in the near future, then one could be sure of mysterious evils and even worse vengeful curses plaguing mankind, plunging the world into complete darkness and terror. 

And so, as a result, after placing one hundred and twenty mountain stone beasts at Luan Zang Hill (The Burial Mounds), each and every clan began conducting frequent soul-summoning rituals all while remaining alert to and investigating any unusual activity within the various regions. 

In the first year, nothing happened.

In the second year, nothing happened.

In the third year, nothing happened.

....

Thirteen years passed and still nothing had happened.

At this point, more and more people had become convinced that, perhaps, Wei Wu Xian wasn’t that extraordinary and that maybe his soul really was gone. Because even though Wei Wu Xian had upended the sky itself, the day had finally come for him to be flipped upside down. 

But of course, no one can stay on a pedestal forever. Legends are just legends.

-----------------

Author’s Note:

You’ve all been waiting for so long! This story has been delayed due to writer’s block and because of real life problems.... still, I’m ready to be hit (covers head with hands)

Wei Wu Xian is the main protagonist and someone you don’t want to mess with. _(:з)∠)_

It seems like this character is very terrible, right? Please believe that I won’t make him be too horrible. This story isn’t too similar to Zha Fan (Scum Villain).

Still, I hope you all like it ^_^ Of course, if you don’t like it I don’t want you to force yourself hahahaha....

[geekkatsblog]

GREY'S ANATOMY 16X15 REVIEW

Wow, is the first thing that comes to mind with that episode, it's the first one I enjoyed so much in years. It wasn't like the old Grey's good, but I certainly enjoyed it. Now with that being said, onto the reviews.

The craziest ones first.

_________________________________________

Deluca

Oh boy, where do I start?........ Deluca ran out in a blizzard to have collect a liver WITHOUT GLOVES and ended up with frostbite. He is currently clearly having some mental issues and I hope that they're able to treat that soon before he's fired. Sure, he saved a kid's life and before that he saved Suzanne's life but what happens when his luck runs out? His hands are going to be out of commission for a while and I hope that he gets some help by then because something is definitely up with him and the way he's acting with the people around him is becoming harsh, which means the problem is getting worse.

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Meredith/Dr Haynes

Lumping them into one section seeing that were together for most of the night. Haynes is definitely enjoying having conversations with Meredith. In a way if they were to get together this would be the best way to do it. Too many relationships in Grey's start with sex first talk later and it worked for Meredith with Derek but it didn't for pretty much everyone else in the show, not everything is like the Mc Dreamy situation.

Must admit I enjoy the interactions but, I'm still not at shipper level yet. The bonding over their past spouses and raising kids ......☺☺☺. He had me going at first when he said Christina never mentioned Meredith, but turns out she just calls her the twisted sister, fair enough, I wouldn't be surprised if Christina had planned to set him up with Mer since the first time they spoke. On another note his passion for his patients is very admirable, hes not Alex Karev level yet. But I like him.

Meredith is trying with Deluca more than she did for Maggie when she was in her slump🤔🤨. She really has no plot right now, the show at this point might as well be called anatomy. She's trying to help Deluca, but only gets abuse in return, I really am praying that he is sick if not........😡🤬.

Then theres her and Haynes budding friendship. But that's pretty much all for Meredith.

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Jo and Alex

WTF, Alex better be dead or I'm going to be disappointed, he never even went to his mother's house and has been ghosting everyone......... excuse me what? I'm not seeing any proper valid excuse for the nonsense that is this plot. Why are they doing this? All of his progress is regressing. Next week is his final episode and it better have a valid explanation.

Jo is understandably a reck, I kind of enjoyed her sass though. I'm honestly confused. (Did he go after Izzie cause that would really be insane.) I understand they wanted to make it as painless as possible for Jo, but how is this better? She's heartbroken, they would have been better off if he'd died instead. I'm curious to know where the hell he is though.

But at least we got to see her have some support even if Link is a wreck as well.

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Teddy/Owen/Koracick

This story line definitely was the biggest WTF moment I was not expecting that from Teddy and more importantly the stupid Owen, Teddy, Koracick triangle starts again, but this time with a side of Amelia like OMG please stop🙄. Props to Teddy for being able to add up dates or having intuition or whatever her reason was for knowing. Although she could have discussed first instead of having pent up feelings that have now been released in the form of a huge mistake.

Poor Koracick at the end of the day Teddy and Owen will probably patch up the relationship and he'll be left once again heartbroken. I wish he had, had the strength to reject her. He's always the scape goat when her and Owen are having issues.

Owen, actually was being a good spouse and got cheated on but I guess Karma comes back around. He, just saved a baby and mom and asked Teddy If she wanted to ski for this episode. But I'm sure he's going to have a major storyline soon along with the others in this mess.

This love triangle just got even more complicated, especially if Amelia and Owen starts to catch feelings again.

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Richard

I'm actually perturbed by him tonight. Is he retiring? Better not be if he wants to stop preforming surgery, fair enough but he needs to be the intern director or something I can't have him leaving too after Karev, he can't give up too.

He found inspiration from a new intern. I thought she was going to be the new Dr Bailey for him. But nope she's not even a doctor. Her story was touching, but was she really going to cut into a patient with only barely having been in med school. How did she think that was going to work out? And poor Richard he was finally starting to get that teaching spark in his eyes again, only to find out she wasn't even a registered doctor. At the end he talked to her about never giving up, gives her his sethescop and says he no longer need it, like I said before they better not get rid of Richard as well, and where is Catherine? For someone who fought hard enough to buy a whole hospital for him to have to be around her, she sure is absent.

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Miranda Bailey

She spent the whole time helping Joey study for his GED and then took him on a tour of the hospital to see job options and it was just adorable, their banter is hilarious and is it me or is he going to be a surgeon. He was so interested in them saving the baby and the mom.

And as expected she has decided to adopt Joey however it happened like I didn't want it to..... really fast. So fast that she didn't even bother to inform her husband and I know Joey and Tuck were playing video games and getting along but does he understand that he's about to have a new brother?

I knew a Ben and Bailey fight was coming and I guess now it has (they've been too happy and no couple in Grey's stays happy for long. Luckily it seems like an easy fix.)

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Link

Link is ultimately depressed and it's sad because that means that he really did truly love Amelia,he should have taken some personal days as well because being depressed at work is never a good idea. I really hope that they aren't trying to set him up to be with Jo, I like their brother sister support system.

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Nico and Levi

Now I love my boy Levi, but sometimes I feel like being a surgeon is not for him. He fainted in the OR twice, cried when he had to give the patient bad news and then lost a patient, I hope he gets it together soon before he kills someone.

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Now as for his love life Idk what the hell happened. Nico took a 360 turn. Maybe he's bipolar as well, because I am lost. He's being such a douche, sure Levi's almost child like innocence and need to over share can be annoying at times but he deserves an explanation, he ditched his family for you because he pretended to be a fully open gay. The least he could do is give an explanation. Can't believe the way they're relationship is turning. I think this may be the beginning of the end for them. I hope not, they were good together.

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Jackson

Barely raised his head up from carrying on the work of Mark Sloan to fight with his new girlfriend Vic. Which I'm sure is not over they apologized but, that 2nd fight is coming soon.

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Maggie

No plot really besides being salty about no longer being chief, saving 2 lives, then confirming to Teddy that she's not crazy for thinking that Amelia's baby is Owen's and apparently giving her the courage she needed to cheat on Owen with Tom.

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Ending notes/ questions

• WHERE THE HELL IS ALEX?

• What's going to happen with the hot mess that is Teddy/Owen/Koracick/Amelia/Link.

• Is Deluca really mentally unstable and becoming like his dad? And is he going to be Ok?

• Is Richard retiring? (He better not be if his hand is shaking then fine stop surgery and teach instead, but you do not get to leave too Richard)

• Will Ben and Bailey come to agreement with adopting Joey? And will they agree to just him or adopt the others as well? (It seems strange that after the whole thing about having to keep them together they would just split them up and leave it like that.)

• What's going to happen with Meredith and her love triangle/not love triangle.

• Will they finally give Maggie's character something to do besides supporting people. She had like one or two 5 minute plot for like the past few seasons.

• What is wrong with Nico, he suddenly changed for the worst in 2.5 seconds and Idk where they're taking his character.

• Is Jo going to fall into the slump again like she did when she met her mother? I hope not. It's her time to shine now.

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Excited for next week's episode it's looking like Drama and emotions the whole episode. My favorite types.

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (5)

Miraculous Whine and Cheese Club

---

After a couple days Marinette was finding herself well accommodated to her new school. She kinda knew where she was going from class to class, and had some nice new friends. Nanette and Quinn had basically adopted her and Kagami was always there with an open seat in classes. She had a routine which made everything easier to digest.

Wake up, go to school, hang out with friends, go home, have dinner, do homework, text Adrien, go to sleep.

That was another thing. Adrien and Marinette hadn’t seen one another since she transferred schools but they texted every night now. Usually about how their day had been. Small talk and dumb jokes. It was nice. Talking to him before she fell asleep was a perfect way to end her night.

This night was no exception. Marinette’s phone pinged with a new message from Adrien.

Do you wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

Her heart sped a little at the thought of seeing him again after so long apart.

Sounds great!

Marinette responded.

Great! Where do you wanna go?

My friend Nanette’s parents own a cute little cafe halfway between the schools. The Winking Violet. Sound good?

Sounds perfect! See you there!

Goodnight, Adrien

Goodnight, Marinette

Marinette let herself a small squee of joy before plugging her phone in to charge and going to sleep.

The next day Marinette headed over to the cafe. Nanette’s moms, whom Marinette had gotten to see a lot of these past couple days, saved a nice table inside. It was raining so the outdoor seating was closed which was a shame since it was great for people watching.

“Marinette?” Marinette looked up to see Aurore. “Hi, I thought that was you.”

“Hi, Aurore, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for a part-time job. No one is hiring weather girls so I thought I’d try my hand at waitressing.” Aurore shrugged, “What are you doing here?”

“Getting lunch with Adrien. Did you want to join us?” Marinette offered.

“I don’t want to intrude on your date.”

“It’s not a date. We’re just catching up.” Marinette’s face lit up with the mention of the word ‘date’. “I haven’t seen him since I transferred. I haven’t really talked to you either so I’d rather like it if you stayed.”

“Well…” Aurore looked out at the downpour before pulling up a chair at the little glass table. “I have missed you.”

The girls got to talking and were sipping some warm tea when Adrien finally showed up. “Sorry I’m late. It took me forever to convince father to let me come out for lunch.”

“No problem, Aurore’s been keeping me company.” Marientte nodded to their companion.

“Hey Adrien, I know I wasn’t invited--”

“You’re fine. It’s nice to see you outside of school.” Adrien assured her before sitting down and ordering a hot chocolate. This was turning out to be a better afternoon than Marinette pictured. Good company and a warm drink to sip while the rain pattered outside. It was so cozy.

After they exchanged the usual pleasantries and ordered their food they started to get into the real meat of the afternoon.

“How is your new school?” Aurore asked Marinette.

“Great. The people I’ve met are really nice and the teachers are first rate. Also, no Lila. It’s probably one of the best things to ever happen to me.” Marinette responded through bites of her sandwich.

“UUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!” Adrien threw his head back as he let out a long groan. It would have been funny if not for the multiple heads that swiveled their way.

“What’s going on with him?” Marinette whispered to Aurore.

“Oh, Lila has been dogging his heels ever since you left.” Aurore frowned, “He’s not too happy about it.”

“Oof.” Marinette looked back at Adrien, “How bad has it been?”

“I am trying to be the better person but I cannot keep it up.” Adrien grumbled. “It’s like since you left she thinks she has free reins to do as she pleases. She has practically taken over the school with her lies. She got the seating chart rearranged in class and now I’m stuck next to her in the front row because she convinced Nino to sit behind me with Alya.”

“I am so sorry for you.” Marinette couldn’t imagine the horror going on back at Dupont if Lila was uninhibited. “What else has she done?”

The next half hour was a well needed venting session from Adrien about all the crap Lila had been getting up to since Marinette’s departure. Her lies had somehow gotten even more ludicrous but everyone was stilling buying into them. With some help from Alya, and a lie about being Prince Ali’s go to for second opinions on political decisions, she had taken Marinette’s former position as class president. Not only was she gluing herself to Adrien’s side at every chance she was also furthering her efforts to paint Marinette as a monster. Even after she left she wasn’t done. She wanted to make sure that absolutely no one at Francoise Dupont had any sympathy for Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

First it was that Marinette was using subtle cheats and glitches to make herself a better gamer and not playing fairly in the school gaming tournament months prior. Then it was that she had stolen her derby hat design from a sketch of Lila’s. None of which Lila would even be able to justify because she hadn’t even joined the school at that point! She was just looking for documented cases of Marinette’s accomplishments and trying to debunk them. And the class apparently will just take her word for it because who else would be a good judge of those accomplishments? People who were actually there? Ha!

“Wow.” Marinette sat back and stared at the boy across from her, “You really needed that didn’t you?”

“It has been a long week, Marinette,” Adrien laid his head down on the table, “I am so tired.”

“There there,” Aurore gave his head a pat, “Rest easy sweet prince.”

“It sounds like Lila is on cloud nine.” Marinette muttered into her tea.

“She’s the only one,” Adrien said, his head still on the table, “The rest of the school has been really subdued lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed it too.” Aurore said, “Everyone looks like they’re running on auto-pilot. There’s no life or excitement in anything they do anymore. Even when they’re talking about something fun.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Aurore pushed her salad around in her bowl, “It’s kinda sad really.”

“It’s because Lila drove out our purveyor of optimism and happiness.” Adrien flashed Marinette his big, sad, green eyes. “You can really feel your absence at school.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.” Marinette told him.

“I’m serious. Ever since you left everyone has been either on edge or too tired to care about anything. Just the other day Kim and Max got into a yelling match in the main hall. Ivan and Mylene have practically turned into the couple that stand next to one another but never speak. Marc stopped coming to art class and hasn’t said a word to Nathaneal either. It is the saddest kind of surrealism.”

“You can’t blame all of that on me leaving. It’s getting colder, weather is getting worse, people fall into seasonal funks.” Marinette tried to explain it away.

“Really? You think it is a coincidence that everyone suddenly got worse when you weren’t there? I always said you were our everyday Ladybug and now I’m sure of it. You bring happiness and luck wherever you go. We were lucky to have you in our class. Now that you’re gone it’s like a year’s worth of karma is coming back to haunt us.” Adrien shuddered. “I think it can only get worse.”

“Aurore, tell him he’s being overdramatic.” Marinette rolled her eyes but she was secretly pleased the with the praise.

“No can do. The boy is right.” Aurore said, “You left and you took the class’ morale with you.”

“What about Chloe?” Marinette asked.

“What about her?”

“Chloe knows that Lila is a liar and we all know Chloe isn’t one to take things lying down. I refuse to believe Lila has gotten complete control over the school with Chloe there to butt heads with. What has she been doing?” Adrien and Aurore looked at one another. They hadn’t thought about this. Chloe fought everyone at pretty much every opportunity. Now that she had a new opponent, and Marinette’s blessing to be ruthless with said opponent, why had things gotten so out of control?

“She’s your friend, Agreste.” Aurore leaned back in her chair, “What’s Queen Bee been up to?”

“Chloe…” Adrien sat back and thought about it, “She’s been quiet, actually.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean she’s just been going about the day like everyone else. Not challenging Lila or getting into petty fights with the others. It’s really weird now that I think about it.” Adrien pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. “The last time she messaged me was three days ago. I get texts from her everyday. That’s not right.”

“Do you think she’s fallen into that depression you say the rest of the class is in?” Marinette couldn’t believe her ears. Chloe ‘I’m-the-daughter-of-the-mayor-so-you-must-obey-me’ Bourgeois, was being an amicable classmate?

“No, I think she’s the only one that looks like she’s there for a reason. Everyone else has that aura of, have to be there, surrounding them. Chloe...has energy in her deference. I can’t explain it. It’s like she’s flying under the radar for no reason.”

“Huh,” The three teenagers decided to stop moping about Lila and how much of a bummer Francois Dupont had become and moved onto happier conversation. Mainly it centered around Marinette regaling them with her time at her new school and funny moments from her new friends.

All in all it was a pretty good afternoon.

“I gotta get going,” Aurore stood up, “it was great seeing you again, Marinette.”

“You too, we should find a day to get together again.” Marinette smiled.

“Totally. See you at school, Adrien.” With that Aurore was gone.

“I should be heading back too. I have some catch up work I need to get done.” Marinette pushed her chair in.

“I’ll walk you home.” Adrien opened the door for her.

Thankfully the rain had stopped. The streets had that fresh rain smell and little puddles dotting the pavement that Marinette had to resist the urge to jump in.

"We should do this again." Adrien said, "I miss seeing you every day."

"Yeah?" Marinette felt herself blush once more.

"Yeah," was she delusional or was Adrien blushing too? "I--"

"MARINETTE!"

The next moment a blur of bright pink had tackled her to the ground.

"Oof," Marinette wheezed, "Nanette, I can't breathe."

"Sorry." Nanette stood up, "My mom told me you were in the cafe but I was in the middle of a painting and by the time I found a stopping point you were gone and--holy crap Adrien Agreste!"

"Are you okay?" Adrien helped Marinette up.

"Yep. I've taken harder falls than that." She brushed herself off, "Adrien this is Nanette. Nanette this Adrien."

"Nice to meet you." Adrien smiled at Nanette. 

"You too. Marinette wasn't kidding when she said she knew you."

"Um, Nani," Marinette poked her, "You have paint all over you."

"And?"

Marinette pointed to her blouse now stained with green and blue streaks. "It's still wet."

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Nanette blanched, “I didn’t even think of that!”

“It’s okay. It’s just a little paint.” Marinette assured her. “Actually, I think this is a good excuse to try my hand at hand painting clothing. Maybe give it a water flower design.”

“I’ve done that before.” Nanette said, “I made Quinn a scarf for their birthday once and they loved it. If you want you can come back to my place and work there. I have every color of the rainbow in paint and a killer sound system we can jam to while working.”

“I would love to but I really do need to get home. Tomorrow maybe?” Marinette hated to disappoint her.

“No problem.” She shrugged, “I should let you two continue on your way. It was nice meeting you, Adrien. Marinette talks a lot about you.”

“Nanette!” shrieked through clenched teeth.

“She likes you a lot.”

“That’s good to hear. It would be awkward if she didn’t.” Adrien said placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette didn’t hold out too much hope for his words to mean anything more than liking her as a friend. She loves Adrien but if she was being honest the boy is either too infatuated with Kagami to consider anyone else an option or he’s is really that dense about picking up hints. The only way she could be more blatant about her crush was if she told him she dreamed about marrying him one day.

“AWE!” Nanette gushed, “You two are so cute. Okay, I’ll let you go. Sorry for tackling your girlfriend, Adrien.”

“NANETTE!” Marinette was going to collapse into a puddle of anxiety, “He’s not my--”

“I’ll text you later!” Nanette shouted over her shoulder as she hustled back down the street.

“One of your new friends?” Adrien chuckled unperturbed by Nanette’s comment.

“Yeah, she’s...eccentric.”

“I like her hair. If I was a braver sort I would dye my hair something crazy like that.” Adrien ruffled his golden locks, “You think I could pull off pink hair?”

“I think you could pull off anything.” Marinette answered honestly.

“Even crocs?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

She imagined a pink haired Adrien wearing matching bright pink crocs. Amusing but not great. She shook her head. “Hair? Yes. Crocs? No. No one can. Nope.”

“You said--”

“I don’t care if you are Aphrodite incarnate, no one can pull off crocs! It is a comfort shoe meant to not see the light of day!”

“I’m getting you a pair for Christmas now.”

“I think if you were to spend those big boy model checks on something as abhorrent as crocs your dad would disown you on behalf of the fashion world.”

“Still failing to see a downside.”

“You little,” Marinette smacked his arm and they continued on their way to her house. “At the very least Lila may stop bothering you if you wore them to school.”

“Now I have to get a pair and test that theory.”

“She’s really gotten that bad?”

“You are super lucky that you got out when you did. Homeschooling is looking like the better option nowadays.”

“It’ll get better. For your sake I hope it does.”

“Thanks. I hope so too.” they made it to Marinette’s house and said their goodbyes. Marinette said hello to her parents before shutting herself in her room and changing out of her stained shirt. She set it aside to work on later and went to check her instagram. She scrolled through some pictures of her old friends hanging out. She hadn’t the heart to unfollow any of them yet.

Curious about Adrien’s past statement she went to Chloe’s page. Wow. Adrien wasn’t kidding. Chloe hasn’t posted anything on her social media in days. As someone who flooded her timeline with selfies and designer endorsements this was really weird. The last selfie she posted was her wearing a trilby and holding a magnifying glass up to her eye. The caption read: Detective Bourgeois and the case of Dolos and Aletheia.

What is up with her?

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