Yuji comes home from school one day with a flier for a “mother-son” dance at his preschool. Choso knows how badly Yuji wants to do these events and feels sad that he can’t really dance with his mother.
“You want to do this, Yuji?” He asks his little brother.
“Yeah, but… no mom.” The defeat in his voice makes Choso’s heart shatter.
He texts you and begs you to go to the dance with Yuji.
I will pay you extra or something, please do this for Yuji.
Relax, Choso, I’d love to do this dance for Yuji.
You smile the day of the dance in a nice dress, and Yuji’s all cute and dressed up in a tiny suit.
“Oh, is this my handsome dance partner?” You smile and wave goodbye to the speechless Choso who hasn’t really seen you in a dress before.
You get to the dance venue and see Gojo’s doctor friend dancing with Megumi. You smile as Yuji runs excitedly to his friend and you talk with Shoko.
“So, you and Choso?” Shoko grins.
“Ah, not exactly, just a favor for him, I guess…”
“Yeah, I’m doing a favor for Satoru.” She sips the drinks offered for the dance and goes to dance with Megumi again.
You dance with Yuji and he’s having the time of his life, it’s a little heartbreaking. To think he’s never gotten to have these opportunities before because his mother died when he was a baby, it’s saddening and it makes you want to be there for every mother’s event you can.
You help Yuji slow dance and he grins up at you. He tries to spin you and the two of you just have a great time.
On the way home, you and Yuji stop for ice cream.
“Did you have fun?” You ask Yuji.
“This has been the most funnest night!” He grins excitedly.
“I’m glad, I had fun too.” You laugh.
“You did?”
“Mhm, had a really great night with you.”
Yuji pokes at his ice cream and seems a little hesitant to say something.
“…I wish you were my actual mom…” Oh.
You pick up Yuji and head home with him. “I’ll be your mommy anytime for events like this, okay?”
“…Promise?”
“Of course I do! You’re such a sweet kid, Yu. I love you as if you were my child.” You rub his back and continue walking to the apartments.
As you walk into Choso’s apartment, Yuji’s asleep in your arms, and Choso smiles to you two.
“Have fun?” He smiles as you lay Yuji down.
“He said this was the funnest night he’s had. Did you miss us?” You smile.
“Only a little.” Choso laughs and goes into the kitchen with you. “I genuinely owe you.”
“I enjoyed it. I want to do more things like that. I told Yuji I’d be his mom for any of those events.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He told me that he wished I was his actual mom, it was pretty heartbreaking.”
Choso’s expression softens and he glances at Yuji’s room.
“Yeah, it’s sad that he never got to know our parents. But to be fair, I never got to do those dances either.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t top priority for our mom…”
You frown and pull up some slow dance music on your phone and hold your hand out to him. He tilts his head.
“What’s that for?”
“Dance with me.”
Choso feels a flutter in his chest and takes your hand. The two of you slow dance in the kitchen, the moon lighting up your face and hair in the most perfect ways. He’s a little stumbly with his movements, but he gets the hang of it and twirls you.
The two of you dance through most of the night and you fall asleep, Choso laying you on his bed because he refuses to let you sleep on the uncomfortable couch. He stays up the rest of the night and keeps an eye on you and checks on Yuji occasionally.
He wouldn’t mind if you were Yuji’s mother figure, as long as he gets to be the father.
Masterlist
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pain is all you'll find
Sylus/Reader | 630 words | AO3
It was karaoke night at Onychinus’ base.
A/N: I am so, so sorry. I have no excuses for this one. It’s just full-on crack.
It was karaoke night at Onychinus’ base.
You didn’t even realize Onychinus had karaoke nights, but here you were in a room surrounded by other henchmen all applauding and cheering its fearless leader as he wailed—er, sang—the fourth song of the night.
You grimaced, and chugged your bottle of beer, wishing the alcohol would just take effect already. Beside you, Luke and Kieran were also happily (and soberly?) applauding Sylus. They couldn’t possibly be enjoying his cat-yowling rendition of Careless Whisper, could they? It was honestly hard to tell since the twins refused to remove their masks. The masks were probably there to hide their suffering, you thought grimly, unable to think of any other plausible reasoning in your semi-tipsy state.
When you turned your sight back to the TV screen and the current talentless singer hogging the mic, your cheeks pinked up when you made eye contact with Sylus and he winked at you. For just an instance, you felt your stomach flipped, captivated by his smoldering eyes and suave smile.
And then he opened his mouth again. You mentally screamed in agony, wondering why a good person like yourself was being punished so cruelly like this.
You wanted to bury your head in your arms, or maybe suffocate yourself with these tacky looking throw pillows at Onychinus’ base. Hell, you would even happily let Mephisto peck your eyes out if it meant ending this torment. How could someone with a great—no, sexy—speaking voice not be able to carry a goddamned tune? God truly had a very particular sense of humor, you realized, as you forced a stiff smile and shakily gave Sylus a thumb up.
When the song finally ended (dear god, why did he pick the extended version?), you finally let out the breath you were holding in. You politely clapped and smiled, thinking Sylus was about to return to his seat next to you, but you instantly froze mid-clap, face paling as you watched him scrolled through the song list once more.
He smiled. You worried.
Your ears bled as he rasped the first three verses, before belting out: “Hello, is it me you're looking for?”
Onychinus henchmen were clapping and cheering, and you couldn’t take this anymore. You leaned over to both Luke and Kieran, hissing sharply, “You guys can’t possibly be enjoying these murders on classic songs, right?”
You blinked, dumbfounded, when Luke casually pulled out an earplug.
“Did you say something, Miss Hunter?”
Kieran pulled both of his own earplugs out. “What’s wrong?”
“You guys have been…”
“Oh, damn,” Luke said, reaching into his pocket, “I forgot to give you yours. My bad, Miss Hunter.”
You curiously received a pair of earplugs and you looked up, seeing Kieran motioning you to put them on. The moment you did, you realized that silence truly was golden. You cracked a grin to the twins.
Suddenly you found you were enjoying Sylus’ performance more. All eye candy and not a fucking tuneless sound out of him. Thank fucking god, you thought, this time joining Luke and Kieran in their zealous cheering.
Everything went on well for a few minutes, but unfortunately, the night seemed to drag on, and everyone watched with dismay as the leader of Onychinus showed that he had no intention of letting anyone else have the mic. Your brief moment of faux enthusiasm died down after each song he performed until you could do nothing but mentally sighed as you clapped like a trained seal with your stupidly rigid smile plastered on your face.
You watched the lyrics danced on the TV screen as Sylus ‘sang’ along: Welcome to your life.
You mentally groaned for the umpteenth time. It was going to be a long, long fucking night. Goddamnit.
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space babies follows one of my favourite doctor who tropes: the bad guy of the episode isn’t a conscious villain at all, but a well-meaning robot or AI gone wrong with good intentions. the chula nanogenes turning everybody into gas mask zombies because they aren’t attuned to human dna and base their “healing” mechanism on the first wounded boy they encounter. repair droids gone rogue on a stranded ship chasing the brain of a 18th century french noblewoman because they’re programmed to think she’s the final piece of the puzzle. the ‘siren’ of the black spot ‘abducting’ pirates into her sickbay to cure them whereas they assume her to be monstrous.
and now — an education software system conjuring up a literal bogeyman to entertain a bunch of abandoned babies because it lost control in the absence of maintenance and wants to care for the kids as best it knows how. nobody’s to blame, nobody’s “evil”. chefs kiss.
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Here's a thought:
kid Steve speaks better Gaelic than English. their pastor sometimes takes care of Steve when Sarah is working and he'd teach Steve English but, as one can imagine, the accent is not good. Steve is also partially deaf, he doesn't always control his volume well, so he speaks broken, heavily accented English, and that isn't a winning combo for friendships on top of his firecracker personality.
enters Bucky, the popular kid who somehow decides that Steve is his best friend in the world.
Bucky's grandparents immigrated from England, his dad is Romanian Jew. Bucky is not a very devoted Catholic, and the family still celebrates major Jewish holidays. they even hold a mini bar mitzvah for Bucky's 13 birthday.
the point is, Bucky has a fairly neutral accent that gets more Brooklyn by the day, he is also some kind of a polyglot. he speaks also Yiddish, he learns Italian from the neighbors, and French at school.
Bucky never makes fun of Steve's accent or gets frustrated when Steve can't quite get the pronunciation right. they read together, literally. Bucky would have one of his favorite novels, and he'd read the words out loud for Steve, when it's Steve's turn, he listens and helps him when Steve struggles.
Bucky is also the one to suggest they create a sign language of their own. just simple daily vocabulary like 'food', 'movies', 'home'. they add 'punk/jerk' and 'sorry' to their vocabulary after a short while.
and the thing is, losing Bucky is more than just missing a person in his life, it's that the most basic act of talking - not even about him - just talking, in his own native language, is a constant reminder of this loss. they don't have only their own sign language. in a way, English is their language too. losing Bucky is losing the languages, the tool of communication and connecting with other people and the world around him.
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