#I did a lot of research and I’m happy with the path I’ve chosen now

[rosereign]

.

[bilgisticallykosher]

Don't Jump To Conclusions

TS g/t one-shots

I'm in a Sanders Sides g/t server, and sometimes we take scenarios and write on them. I've written a fair amount of stuff on there, myself, and I decided to collect my stuff, and clean it up. This was partially written by @borrowedblue and @andtheyreonfire

Happy birthday, Vel!

Masterpost | AO3

My Discord, not to be confused with the above g/t Sanders Sides one.

Word count: 3,300

Warnings: Spiders! Spider, anyway. Sentient beings sold as pets, attempting restriction of said beings, mentions of bites, implied past abuse/bad treatment.

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Virgil was out shopping. Not for groceries or clothing; he was at a pet store, shopping for supplies for his, let's say, pets. Okay, technically they weren't pets. They were research at the lab he worked at, but he still liked them, even when they did try to bite and attack and hiss at him. His descriptions of such had led people to believe that he worked with cats, but he didn't. 

He worked with spiders. 

Well, a lot of bugs, but he liked the spiders the best. His lab observed their behaviors both individually and in groups to catalog a variety of information. As part of their observations, they needed to keep the spiders in their ideal environment, which included as close to the exact blend of earth as they could get. Unfortunately, they'd run out of their supply today. Fortunately, that sort of stuff was widely available. Unfortunately, they used a very specific brand. Fortunately, they found some in a pet store pretty locally. Unfortunately, Virgil was the one who lived nearest to it, so he was stuck going in and getting it on his way home. What a drag, he had to actually interact with people. 

When he got there, he could see why this was the store that had it. It was certainly… well-stocked. Which, really, was just another way to say "huge." It was like the Home Depot of pet stores; no employees in sight, and aisles in need of some serious maps. But whatever. He at least knew which sections to go past. When he finally got to the specialty mix of dirt, near the back of the store, he grabbed it with an 'Ah-hah!' Then, after his elation had faded, he took in his surroundings a bit more. He looked to his left, and noticed the rescue. 

It wasn't odd for a pet store to have a rescue in it. And despite his surly exterior, well, Virgil wasn't immune to cute fluffy animals. Maybe he just so happened to need to walk back to the registers while passing it by. And maybe while he was walking that way, he'd take a little look. You know. While he was there. 

So, path decided, nodding to himself, he strolled over, bag of soil in hand, and prepared to look at the puppies and kittens. Then he stopped and blinked. There were certainly puppies and kittens, and even a bird there, but there were also some different manner of pets. 

He saw fairies, tiny mers, and all manner of little magical creatures. He walked through the display of cages and terrariums, when one in particular caught his eye. He stared at the sign plastered on the seemingly empty glass case.

CAUTION: I BITE! 

"What the-" he squinted, leaning closer to see if there was anything actually in there. He thought he saw something moving underneath the front of the fake log, and then all of a sudden-

-there it was right in front of him. 

He flinched and took a half step back on instinct, despite the fact that it's in a freaking terrarium, genius, and he took in the creature. It was partly human, but had multiple eyes, and its back half was an abdomen, black with dark blue bands, and had multiple legs. 

A drider. 

It was reared up on its back legs, and it was bearing its (he squinted closer to be certain, and sure enough its human half had freaking fangs), and was generally acting very aggressive.

He thought it- they were trying to puff themself up, emphasizing their eight (eight!!!) limbs, six on the bottom, plus their arms. Their multiple eyes were narrowed, directly at him. They were snarling. 

And Virgil couldn't possibly help but to walk towards the terrarium, warning sign be damned. He sees the spider-person pause, some of the aggression draining out, before they rear back again, seemingly trying to be more intimidating than before. Virgil smirked, fascinated, and sank down into a crouch. He really took in the shape and look of their eyes, and his own eyes widened in response. 

Jumping spider, he realizes, and then, Well, duh, they jumped at you, moron, of course they're a jumpy. He tilted his head a few times, trying to really see the details of the drider, while he had the chance. 

"Woah," Virgil whispered. "You're so cool looking." He watched as they frowned and clicked their mouthparts (didn't look completely like typical chelicara) idly, running their pedipalps over them. They seemed to hesitate, lowering down, and stared at him in a more placated manner. 

Honestly, they were pretty cute. "How far can you jump?" Virgil asked, taking in the size of the enclosure. The creature was watching his gaze like, well, someone who had plenty of eyes, then finally, they spoke up. 

"Far beneath my limit in this facsimile of a proper environment," they crossed a pair of human arms and one set of spider legs. They seemed distrustful, gaze still not fully on him. As though they were apprehensive about his reaction, like it was going to be negative? 

"I'll bet," Virgil responded instead, and he nodded a little as his smile fell into a grimace. "This thing has gotta really suck, huh?" He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, eyes still flitting over the spider creature's form every so often. They raised an eyebrow. 

"Indeed." Yeah, there was no way they were used to having a normal conversation. They seemed less wary now, but they didn't seem to be holding back their speech at all. Virgil really admired that. He liked that attitude, and that he was the one getting it out of them, and, well, he liked a lot about them. He had...a dangerous thought. 

"What if," Virgil bit his lip, "what if you got out?" The spider huffed, rolling their (well, some of their) eyes. 

"Then I would be able to jump further," they replied, voice clearly dry despite their size difference. 

"No, no," his smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I mean. What if you," Virgil hesitated meaningfully, being sure to emphasize the words. "Got, out." The creature's limbs uncrossed. Virgil saw as comprehension dawned. 

"I am," their words were chosen carefully, he noticed. They had been throughout this entire interaction. "Not allowed to leave my enclosure." Their eyes raked over the human's form. 

"What if I got you out?" The spider person chittered, nervousness written on their face. 

"Theft is not an encouraged activity," they eventually settled on. Virgil snorted and muttered 'be gay, do crime' under his breath. "No, I meant like. Maybe, I could, sort of." He paused, breathed in, breathed out, and tried to look as serious as possible. "Take you home? With an adoption fee and everything?"

"I," the drider swallowed visibly, and of course they didn't trust him, they just met him and he doesn't even know their name, or anything, and he didn't introduce himself- "I am unable to survive in the wild on my own," they finished succinctly. 

Virgil hadn't meant that. They might be a drider, but they were clearly still human, especially after the conversation they'd been having, so, was it wrong that he wanted to take them home? He knew that everyone here was raised to live in a home, with a human taking care of them, just like the pets they adopted out beside them. So, maybe they wouldn't mind if he took them home? But, he guessed that their non-answer gave him his answer, then. That kinda sucked. 

"My name's Virgil," he blurted out before he forgot again. "He/him." They stared at each other for a moment. "Uh, what's your name?" He saw them startle, "I mean, y'know, only if you don't mind."

"My name is Logan." They said, voice even, still, but maybe a little less cautious, he thinks? "I… am also male?" And Virgil couldn't help but smirk again at his confused tone. It was sort of adorably endearing. His eyes drifted towards the sign again. 

"So," he smirked a little more. "You actually ever bite anyone before?" Logan rolled (all of) his eyes. 

"Of course," he pointed to the sign. "Otherwise, it would not be stated on my tank." He sounded almost a little proud. He went on, clarifying despite not being asked to. Virgil was not complaining. "Two separate humans, not to mention the time a child opened my tank after wandering away from his parents." His pedipalps whisked over his face, "I jumped just under my potential that day, unfortunately." He didn't sound sorry at all. Virgil's mouth twitched dangerously. "I landed right on his head."

Virgil burst out laughing. Several people in the store turned around to see what the commotion was about. A volunteer in particular hesitated, before starting to come over to the pair. Logan looked smug, Virgil wiped a tear from his eye. 

"Hello, sir, may I help you with anything?" The voice came suddenly from over his shoulder. He just barely suppressed a flinch. 

"Ah!" Couldn't suppress the scream, though.

"You two seem to be getting along!" The volunteer said. "Do you have any questions about him?" The tone of the question was clearly an underlying 'Would you please take him?'

Virgil gave a look towards Logan's direction. He looked back at Virgil. Maybe, Virgil thought, not as hesitant as before.

"Well," Virgil pulled his gaze away, "maybe just a few."

~~~~~

Logan watched the human- Virgil- as the volunteer led him away, and he found himself repressing a pout. He'd been… nice. Pleasant. Tolerable. 

Okay, so Logan had enjoyed his company, and his conversation. It had been quite some time since that had happened with a human. In fact, it had been quite some time since any conversation at all had happened with a human. They never spoke to him directly. Every human he'd ever known had spoken over him, both literally and figuratively. Especially here, where they spoke instead to the volunteers and his general caretakers. 

He exhaled. Perhaps his standards for 'good conversation' had just slipped considerably. As well as his standards for 'acceptable human.' After all, there he was, discussing taking Logan into his home, with someone all-too-anxious to never see him again. Nice or not, he had to be cautious. He seemed like he cared about his opinion, but that was the thing about humans; they were good at seeming. 

He gave up on trying to listen into their conversation. They were far away, and it only seemed to pertain to what supplies he would need if he took him. At the very least, the volunteer was doing their job of explaining his needs. He skittered into the fake log that was in his environment as he considered his future. 

This was not the first time he'd met someone excited to see him, eager to adopt him. It had happened, once before. He'd been much younger then, much more innocent, much happier, much more eager to go into a home with a human family. 

That eagerness and happiness had lasted about a week. 

And, well, that's why he was with a rescue now. 

He considered Virgil. He spoke to him, yes, was interested, but he was still larger; Logan surmised he could easily fit in his hands, probably even only one. He had more legs, and more eyes, and could jump, and had venomous fangs (barely, to a human), but he was still the one with the disadvantage. A severe one. He shuddered from memories he'd considered long in the past. Apparently, they were still with him in the present. 

Likely, he would not get an opinion on who he went home with, anyway. It was why he made it a point to be so aggressive with everyone who came over to him. But Virgil… Well, he supposed he would see, and soon. The two humans were walking towards his enclosure again, this time Virgil had a large bag of items relevant to Logan’s care. 

He poked his head back out, eyes roving over his figure. Virgil smiled at him, one corner of his mouth tugged further up than the other. He turned to the volunteer. 

"Could you, I mean, if there's maybe…" he made a gesture with his empty hand, seemingly unable to finish his thought. "I kinda wanna," he lost his momentum again. He inhaled and exhaled a few times. "Could I just have a minute with him," he rushed out. The volunteer made some sort of face, but nodded, and left. Virgil took a step forward, and Logan met him (as much as he could from within his glass case) halfway, stepping out from his log. He was certainly more willing to be out in the open with only Virgil there. He returned a tiny, if uneasy smile of his own. 

Virgil crouched down again. "Have you really been here for most of your life? Around humans?" Logan blinked. That took some time. 

"Yes," he admitted. "I was abducted too young to learn any survival instincts." He couldn't say why he so willingly told him his past, but Virgil wanted to know, and Logan knew what that thirst for knowledge was like. "How did you know?" He wasn't accusatory, merely curious, undoubtedly as Virgil had been. 

"Volunteer told me," Virgil made a slight face, and Logan wondered what else he'd been told about his past. He was about to ask, but Virgil continued. "Said you'd been waiting here for way too long." There was a look on his face that Logan had only seen on childrens' face moments before a tantrum. 

He believed that Virgil was sad, but he couldn't figure out why. "That you'd been rescued from a bad situation." Ah. "Uh, listen." Virgil brought a hand up, and Logan flinched, but it was only to awkwardly scratch at his cheek. 

He looked at Logan intensely. "I know we've only known each other for a bit, and I totally understand if your answer's no, but." He looked pained. "Um." Virgil coughed into his hand, likely a gesture to fill the silence rather than a violent expulsion of the contents in his throat. "Would you? Like me? To uh? Take you home? Er- fuck." Virgil groaned, clearly frustrated by his own ineloquence. "Would you like to live with me? I could offer you a bigger space than what you've got here, take care of you- that water looks too old to be healthy- and you can decline if you want. I just- yeah," he finished, slumping over with hunched shoulders from the effort. 

Logan considered it. He considered it for a while. He considered the short time that he'd spent with the human, and made his decision. At the very least, Virgil wouldn’t be that cruel compared to his...other options. Logan nodded. The smallest of smiles flitted up onto his mouth, and that was apparently what Virgil was waiting for. He offered him a 'be right back', and went to grab an employee. Logan took in his cage one last time, hope was rapidly raising in him.

Meanwhile, Virgil was paying for his purchases as well as Logan's adoption fee. When he came back, it was with the volunteer, who was carrying a smaller containment box meant for transportation, and something else in the other hand. 

Logan's habitat was opened, and suddenly, the volunteer's hand plunged into his tank, startling Logan out of his thoughts and immediately put him on the opposition, fangs bared and ready. It didn't matter, though. The volunteer was wearing thick rubber gloves, preventing any form of retaliation on the part of the drider, and he was grabbed roughly around the middle. He hated being held, nobody knew how to properly hold him; he wasn't a human infant, why did they insist on holding him that way? Unable to resist, Logan squirmed in the grip of the human, receiving a light squeeze and a pained look from Virgil for his efforts. 

“Now, just to get him all ready for you,” the volunteer chirped, bringing a bundle of rope into view. Logan’s eyes widened, and he started struggling anew.

As if he hadn’t moved a muscle, Logan felt his arms being pinned and bound behind his back, knotted tightly. Logan couldn't move his upper arms. The volunteer had just grabbed a few of his legs between two fingers, Logan was kicking and still trying to bite, when-

“The hell are you doing?” Virgil asked in a tone that was, quite frankly, utterly terrifying. It made Logan shudder, before almost instinctively he stopped his efforts to escape. Was this Virgil's true nature, then? 

"Oh, this is just standard procedure for all dangerous creatures," the volunteer responded. And Logan's head snapped up to the two. His internal organs seemed to quiver, as much as he knew that wasn't possible. Virgil had been upset at the volunteer? "Just for everybody's safety." 

"Well then," his unending glare at purely the volunteer seemed to confirm who his ire was directed at. "I guess you'll have to untie him, because I don't think he's a danger to me at all." The volunteer stared back, and understandably backed down. 

"Well, you're his new owner, so!" And Logan remained untied, minus his upper arms, and placed in the transportation  carrier. Virgil paid the adoption fee, and took Logan by the handle, and he felt a thrill of freedom, combined with an atypical bout of anxiety. 

"Hey," Virgil started, as they were walking out of the store. "There's some more stuff on the shelves that I could get you,"  Virgil rolled his shoulder. "It's not, like, required equipment or anything, but some of it looked like it could be kind of cool?" Logan squinted. 

"Why would cold items be preferable to own?" Virgil smirked and then bit his lip. 

"No, I mean, like." He mulled it over, tilting his head. "Nea- no." He exhaled some air out his nose. "Fun? Awesome?" Ah. 

"I suppose, if you wanted to look, I would not be opposed." Virgil smiled, and for the next half hour, Logan was treated to a trip around some of the aisles. Virgil held up his cage, letting him look at some of the items made for a drider's physical and mental engagement. He let Logan decide entirely what he did and did not want to buy, even though he was sure it was difficult for him to keep lifting the transport box, in addition to being a tedious way to shop. His favorites were a little him-sized version of a 'Rubick's Cube,' as well as a better version of the log cave that he'd grown accustomed to in the store. 

He paid when he got up front, and they made their way to his car, placing his other purchases in the back. He put Logan on the seat next to him, 'passenger seat,' Logan vaguely recalled. He was about to buckle him in. 

"Alright, sit tight," Logan was about to ask what that meant when Virgil gasped. "Holy shit, I forgot about the rope." He dropped to the ground, crouched again, and opened the top of his carrier. He carefully took his fingers and untied the ropes, immediately freeing his arms. Logan rubbed around his wrists on instinct, "I'm sorry! Does it hurt? Are you okay?" Logan looked up at Virgil's earnest, open face, full of concern for Logan, and thought of how he'd treated him this entire time, how hopeful and excited he'd been. 

"Yes," Logan smiled. "I think I will be."

-----

In my mind he kinda looks like this, and check out that cool size comparison chart at the bottom!

My favorite line from the original: I guess there's like normal things there like cats and dogs and birds and like maybe magical-y things like, winged cats and winged dogs and winged birds.

Taglist

@callboxkat @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @awkwardjester @ollyollyoxinfree @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @demoniccheese83  @thatgaydemigodnerd @aceawkwardunicorn @lookingforaplacetosleep @mirinda03 @robinwritesshitposts @averykedavra @potatsanderssides @hekking-happy-nonsense @enby-ralsei @star-crossed-shipper  @a-fandom-trashdump @thefluffyotter33 @somehow-i-got-an-account @cottonwoolsocks @idontcareaboutcanon   @starlight-era @kieraelieson  @snowdice @callboxkat @10moonymhrivertam @just-some-gt-trash @evoodo123 @idont-freaking-know

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Dear Starshot, I recently saw your latest artwork for #Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura and I am DYING to learn more about this AU. If you're comfortable sharing, is there anything you can disclose about it?? Is this related to the ItaShi Indiana Jones AU you mentioned before?!!?!?!?!!

Hi Birk, thank you so much for dropping by with this ask! Are you really voluntarily asking me to talk about my current obsession and fanfic baby though? Because I warn you, you may live to regret that!!!

"Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura" is now the official title of my ItaShi Indiana Jones AU. I realise it’s been over a year since I first mentioned it, and it’s still a WIP! Pretty sure that says absolutely nothing good about the speed of my writing, but a lot about how busy my life outside of fandom is. Anyhow, it’s definitely one of those AUs that’s got away on me. I was planning one story initially, but now it’s kind of turned into three (plus a cracky oneshot), and this is just the first.

I’ve planned nine chapters total so far, but the bane of my life is currently number four. It’s sitting at 16,000 words and counting. Succinct writing? I’ve certainly never heard of it… So anyway, I kind of hit a wall there and decided to take a little break to come back with fresh eyes. That’s how I ended up working on the art instead. But I’d say I’m probably about halfway through the first draft (47,000-ish words).

I recently shared the opening scene and my draft cover artwork here. Ummm… what else can I tell you? Madara is the main bad guy, and he’s definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Shisui is an agent of disaster and chaos. Itachi is really… not. So their initial interactions go about as well as you could expect.

All the main characters have extensive back stories. I’m pretty sure you’re already familiar with my Machiavellian worldbuilding tendencies from reading Red Dawn, so it goes without saying I have just as many notes and plans, and as much fleshed out worldbuilding for this story too. And it will take a long time for all of that to be revealed! But the overarching theme is probably found family, which is different to anything I’ve done before.

At this risk of revealing too much, or boring you to tears, I’ll finish with another sneak peek, this time from Itachi’s POV:

When Itachi wakes, there’s nothing to suggest his day is going to be anything but routine.

He gets up at dawn as per usual, eating breakfast at the dining table alone, legs tucked beneath him on a comfortable zabuton. The solitude at this hour of day is something he prefers. It’s the only time the family home is quiet anymore—lacking the cold disapproval of his father’s increasingly judgemental lectures, the anger of his younger brother’s rebellion, or the resigned acquiescence of his mother.

By now, Fugaku should have left for work, and it’s still too early for Sasuke to be awake, given how late he’s been staying out at night. Either to irritate their father, or just avoid him entirely, he’s taken to frequenting the clubs and bars in Osaka. Mostly, he comes home. Some nights, he doesn’t.

More often than not, even when he is home his door is closed, the thumping bass line of some song or another seeping out from beneath it. Likely because he knows this angers their father even more than the leather jackets and spiked punk-rock hair style he now sports.

Part of Itachi has been glad to discover his brother possesses more of a spine than he ever has. But at the same time, Sasuke’s rejection of every last one of their father’s rules has only brought more unwanted scrutiny to Itachi’s far more minor transgressions. It’s as though, having decided his younger child is a lost cause, Fugaku now wants to be absolutely certain his eldest son and heir to the Uchiha family fortune is beyond reproach. To smother him with expectations until he emerges, a diamond from beneath the pressure.

But unbeknownst to Fugaku, Itachi has one flaw he can’t change. And it means that, no matter what, he’ll always be a failure in his father’s eyes.

Sighing, he swallows a mouthful of rice and fish, washing it down with the sweetened barley tea he favours. Pulling this month’s edition of Modern Archaeology across the table, he inspects its glossy cover and promptly chokes on his drink.

The face that smiles up from the page stokes a knot of hot irritation in his gut. Furiously, he skips to the article, skim-reading the text, despite the fact he knows it will only annoy him further.

"An up-and-coming star in the field of archaeology, particularly specialising in South-American cultures, Shisui Uchiha is an increasingly well-known fixture of the San Diego research scene. Curiously for someone so entrenched in the study of history, he is famously reticent when it comes to his own. ‘I did spend my early years in Japan,’ he confirms when pressed. ‘But I haven’t been back in a long time. The United States is my home now.’ Asked about his connection to the famous Uchiha family, he merely winks enigmatically. ‘Never heard of them,’ he says, before asking if we’d like a one-on-one tour of the dig site.

Equally at home in dusty ruins as surfing the palm-lined SoCal beaches, or scaling the cliffs of his native Joshua Tree National Park, he nonetheless shines in group settings too. At the party we attend that evening, to celebrate the opening of a new Aztec exhibit at the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, he easily charms the crowd, finishing the night with at least half a dozen new admirers. It’s not hard to see why they like him. A conversation with Shisui is exercise in passion and obscure historical knowledge. Even so, much like the dig sites he frequents, it’s hard to say just how much of what he presents to the world runs more than surface-deep.

His motto in life? ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight,’ Shisui says with a charismatic smile. Where did he learn it? Chuckling, he brushes us off. ‘The school of hard knocks.’

Love him or hate him, one thing is certain—we haven’t seen the last of Shisui Uchiha’s brand of archaeology.”

Hate him, Itachi thinks, sipping his tea viciously enough to scald his tongue and immediately regretting it. Definitely hate. Hate how he’s reckless, impulsive, irresponsible, and doesn’t seem to take a single thing seriously. Hate that it looks like he’s never had to work hard for anything a day in his life—people only too happy to hand him whatever he wants on a silver platter, charmed by a pretty smile. Hate the fact that, despite their shared family name, he’s free to do whatever he likes. Hate the way people flock to him, falling into his orbit—and by all accounts, bed—like it’s somehow inevitable. And hate, most of all, that there’s a small part of Itachi which understands why.

Because hate or love him—and it’s definitely hate—there’s no denying that Shisui Uchiha is, objectively, a very attractive man.

Coming back to his senses and realising he’s been leaning over the magazine, frowning so hard his forehead hurts, Itachi straightens, closing his eyes and massaging the knot of tension out from between his eyebrows.

“Itachi—”

The tension sinks in even deeper. He opens his eyes. “Father.”

Fugaku takes in magazine, then his son, and Itachi really hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. It’s stupid, but merely knowing he feels the way he does about the man on the page makes him fear being caught. As though his father might somehow divine his deepest darkest secret, just by looking. Truthfully, Itachi sometimes wonders if he might not already know, or at least suspect. But if he does, it’s clearly a truth he’s chosen not to acknowledge.

“I take it you’re prepared for our meeting this evening?” Fugaku asks, grim as ever.

Attempting a composed sip of his tea, Itachi nods. “Yes. Of course.”

Mouth a hard, unyielding line, Fugaku makes some indiscernible noise of disapproval, sweeping an appraising glance over Itachi. “Well, I suppose it’s too much to hope that anything can be done about your hair between then and now. But they’re a modern family. New money. Perhaps it won’t matter so much.”

Fingers tightening into the flesh of his thigh, Itachi has to remind himself to breathe. “I will do my best to make a good impression,” he says, inclining his head towards his father, penitence for his innumerable shortcomings—not least of all the choice to grow his hair out. It’s a small act of rebellion compared to Sasuke’s effort, but one his father seems determined to curtail as promptly as possible.

Poker face easing ever so slightly, Fugaku’s brows trend downwards, though their slant is still severe. “I know. You are my son, after all. And it is high time you were married with a family of your own. Perhaps then you will see the value in giving up these frivolous academic pursuits, and taking your rightful place at the head of the family business.”

He might as well build a box and stuff Itachi into it. Mold him to fit his own vision of the future. But Itachi has long since learnt that what he wishes he could have from life, and what he can have, are two very different things. So, just like his infrequent clandestine trips to the less desirable areas of Osaka’s nightlife, this too, he realises he will have to sacrifice. Duty before self.

“Yes Father, I’m certain you’re right,” he says, bowing once more as Fugaku leaves for work, closing the front door behind him with a click that reeks of finality.

As his footsteps crunch away on the gravel path outside, Itachi can’t help clenching his fists, until long after his knuckles turn white.

Theoretically, it’s a good match. From a family of good standing, his potential bride is quiet and well spoken—the perfect future housewife and mother. Their marriage would kill two birds with one stone, giving her father the son he never had, and Itachi—and therefore by extension Fugaku—control of their biggest competitor’s business.

All it requires is for Itachi spend the rest of his life pretending to be something he’s not.

The weight of it burns tight in his throat, threatening to break free on a rising tide of bile. He longs to cast off his gilded shackles, take a leaf from Sasuke’s book and do something completely crazy.

With a sigh, he rises from the table, collecting his dishes and depositing them circumspectly into the sink. Another day of work awaits.

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is tough right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately, following the path of the straight and narrow is difficult when you have a first ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was going to be easy. New experiences, new interests, new friends...what could go wrong...right? (It’s all cute at first until the smut shatters it...not right now though ;) )

Chapter 1: Welcome, Y/N

Content warning: adult language, cringy situations

Word Count: 1.6K

You let out a sigh as you stood infront of your new dorm, Heights Alliance. U.A high school was Japan’s best school for up and coming pro hero’s and you were chosen to attend. You never thought you’d see the day where you’d finally walk the halls of the prestigious school.

Being a native from the United States, it had always been your dream to attend U.A ever since you watched a sports festival two years ago, unfortunately you never peaked the interest of anyone with your admissions. That was until an earthquake caused by a villains powerful quirk had changed your life.

Long story short it was a normal day at your respective internship with America’s number 3 pro hero, Hopewing, on patrol. A devastating earthquake began and you single handly rescued civilians from a restaurant that caught on fire with no casualties. The villain was apprehended quickly, but an extensive search and rescue mission was done to recover victims of the earthquake. You didn’t think it was a big deal, you were just doing your job, but news outlets picked up on your heroic act and it spread like wild fire.

Countless offers began to stream in for different agencies and schools all across the country. With multiple letters of recommendation, a distinct offer from your dream school rolled in with a promise to be taught in the central . Even if you hadn’t fantasized about attending U.A, you would have been insane to not take the offer.

So, after finishing out your first year at Elite High School you uprooted, packed up your life, and traveled across the world . Classes started next week and nervous was an understatement. You had anxiety as soon as you touched down in Japan. Things here were different. On top of you being a new student in a foreign country you were living in dorms with your classmates.

You always lived at home with your mother and father , never sharing a space with someone else let alone 20 new people who all shared different quirks and attributes. It was nerve wracking, some were going better than you, who knows what level everyone is on. Your anxiety was making it hard for you to breathe. What if-

“Y/N. Did you hear me?” Mr. Aizawa interjected.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I kinda zoned out.” You squeaked. Never in a million years you would have thought that when you were told that your home room teacher was picking you up from the airport and taking you to your dorms that it would be the pro hero Eraser Head. You jaw had hit the floor.

“You know Y/N,” he began, “It’s okay to have anxiety about your situation, but I assure you this is the group of kids to share classes with. They are the best this school has to offer. They can teach you a lot.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

“Come on, let’s go. Iida and Yaoyorozu are waiting to help you settle in.” He said grasping, one of your suitcases. You took a deep breath and followed your home room teacher up the front stairs. As you walked into the doors, you were greeted by two people. One was a tall man with black hair, glasses, and crazy huge calves and the other was lean woman with a luscious black ponytail and the sweetest smile.

“Ah! There you two are! Welcome to U.A! My name is Tenya Iida, Class 2-A representative and this is Vice President Momo Yaoyorozu.” The man in the glasses announced, smiling widely. He spoke rigidly and bowed.

He threw you off at tad bit with the formality. He talked like he was a politician running for office. “Hey, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you both.” You extended your hand awkwardly since you were holding your carry on and a box. He gave you a firm handshake.

Yaoyorozu smiled and shook her head, “Iida, our classmate looks like her hands are full. Take her box big guy.”

“Oh, right! Sorry about that!” Iida took the box and your suitcase from Mr. Aizawa. You were grateful because it was getting a little heavy in your arms.

“Well Y/N, you’re in capable hands with these two. I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Aizawa turned on his heel to leave. “Come to my office 30 minutes before class on Monday and we’ll go through your schedule and get you a map of campus.” He called over his shoulder.

Just like that Aizawa the security blanket was gone and you were left alone with the two. They seemed nice, so hopefully the rest were the same. “Alrighty let’s head on up.” Yaoyorozu suggested. Your trio approached the elevator. “So, this is Class 2-A’s dormitory. There are 5 floors in total. The first floor are where the common rooms are located. Including the kitchen, study area, and the gym. Floors 2, 3, 4, and 5 are dorms. Our bathrooms are communal pertaining to who lives on each floor.” She explained.

Holy crap, this place was huge to say the least. You were excited to explore everything, especially the gym but that would have to wait until the jet lag wore off.

“I’ll tell you ahead of time Y/N, everyone is excited to meet our new classmate. If you ever get overwhelmed then instruct them to give you some space. They all can be quite a lot sometimes.” Iida warned, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“I’m sure I will be okay! I’m just happy to finally be here.”

Yaoyorozu gave you an award winning grin. “I’m happy for you too. Someone as talented as you belongs at U.A.” You felt a blush creeping on to your neck.

“Please stop, you’re being too kind. I’ve actually researched the both of you. You guys are so amazing and your quirks are insane!” You replied.

“Well, we appreciate it. So, we’ll bring your things up to your room, give you some time to freshen up, and then head down stairs to meet the others in an hour?” Iida said as the elevator reached the 4th floor.

You agreed as you stepped out and had a look around. The floor was in the U shaped. Next to the elevators was the bathrooms and the entrance branched out into two hallways.

“For obvious reasons the boys are on the right hall and the girls are on the left hall. Your neighbors on this side are Uraraka and Ashido, while the boys are Shouji, Kirishima, and Bakugo.” Yaoyorozu said and lead you to the third door down. She unlocked your door and handed you the gold key.

Iida opened the door and allowed you two to walk in before him. You were sure the big grin on your face was visible miles away.

“Now, I know it’s not much right now, but I wouldn’t stress about unpacking just yet. I’m sure you’ll recruit some help after dinner.” Iida said and sat down your things.

“Thanks guys, I’m going to go wash off this traveling and I’ll see you then.” You smiled. Iida bowed and Yaoyorzo waved before exiting. You quickly made your way to the bed and plopped down, absolutely beat. You began to take in your new home. The white bed frame was against the right wall, matching colored desk was placed against the left wall. There was a giant window on the back wall facing your door and in the corner was a small closet with low dresser inside

You looked around at all the boxes wondering if all your things would fit in this room. Maybe a little unpacking wouldn’t hurt. You opened your two suit cases and began hanging up clothes, organizing sleep clothes, undergarments, and socks in the drawers. Once that was done you began to search for your travel sizes hygiene products, making a mental note to go out for the essentials tomorrow.

Once that was located, you decided to pick out an outfit to wear. Since you arrived in sweat pants and an old t-shirt of your moms; you wanted to look semi decent when you met the others. You went for a simple pair of black jeans and your previous alma mater’s sweat shirt.

You grabbed your phone planning to text your parents that you’ve settled in and made your way to the bathroom. You began to type out a message as you neared the threshold.

Not paying attention as you rounded the corner you crashed into something hard...someone hard.

“Oi, pay attention!” He yelled as everything you were carrying flew onto the floor around you.

“Oh shoot, I am so sorry!”

You both simultaneously began to reach down to pick up your things and bumped heads.

“Fuck. Are you a clutz or something?” He growled holding his forehead. The impact caused you to see two pairs of red eyes glaring at you.

“Look, that was definitely my mistake. I apologize.” Your vision began to come back together and you started to get your things. He reached for the jeans and handed them to you.

You both stood up and then you realized how handsome he was. Spiked ash hair covered his head like a crown, crimson eyes, full lips, and a strong jaw line.

Wow...they definitely make them different in this country.

“Tch, you got a staring problem or did you knock something loose, dumbass?”

“My name’s Y/N, not dumbass.” You shot back, annoyed. He stood silently, shaking his head, and began to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” You questioned.

“Um...you’ve got...” was all he said before pulling the black thong with a cherry print from your shoulder and holding it infront of you with one finger.

“Oh my god.” You squealed and ripped it from his hand. He continued to laugh and walked out of the bathroom. You ran straight to the shower and locked the door. You sank to the floor with your hands covering your face.

Great. I’ve been in Japan for an hour and I’ve already embarrassed myself.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision

The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero

GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002

Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia

  GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.

On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.

Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.

Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)

Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”

In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”

“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.

Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.

Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)

Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.

The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.

For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.

“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.

At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.

Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.

“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.

Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”

“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”

“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”

“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”

That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.”

She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)

We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.

“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”

Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.

Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.

Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.

Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.

Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Twenty Two - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Alya apologized to Marinette and Damian the next day. Her apology to Marinette was genuine, but to Damian, it was mumbled and barely heard, but the youngest Wayne — known as Grayson to their classmates — didn’t say anything and gave her a pass.

The designer was happy that her boyfriend was willing to let this one slide, but she had a feeling that it would be the only time. If the reporter did something like that again, he probably would tear her a new one.

Alya had asked her if it was ok if Claude and she switched placed so she wouldn’t have to sit with Nino, as it was too awkward to do so. Selfishly, the Eurasian girl told her no. She enjoyed sitting next to Claude, and if Alya wanted to be friends with her ex-boyfriend in the future, it would be better that she didn’t let things be awkward for too long.

The journalist protested a little, but seeing that her friend wouldn’t change her mind — and because of the glare that Damian sent her way — she relented.

At the end of the week, Alya confided that it was a good thing that Marinette refused because while it was awkward, Nino and she talked things through and agreed that they wanted the other in their life. They decided that they would work things through and do their best to be friends.

The dark-haired girl was happy to hear that and apologized to her best friend for being selfish in the first place, but the bespectacled girl waved her off.

“You’re allowed to be selfish from time to time, you know? Plus it’s not a big deal, and it ended up helping us in the end. Not to mention, I was selfish first when I asked you to sit somewhere else so I could sit with Nino.”

They left it at that and while the Ladyblogger obviously hurt, she showed that she was willing to move on and be happy for her ex-boyfriend.

Meeting one’s soulmate was a happy moment, after all.

Working with Chloé was, surprisingly, pleasant.

Marinette remembered the Chloé from middle school, who made Sabrina do her homework for her and wouldn’t lift a finger and help them.

This Chloé was different. When they met, the blonde greeted her with a smile — a genuine one, not the smirks she was used to back in the days — and went to work immediately. She had a list of different topics they could work with that was in theme with what they picked, and even had some in common with her own.

They quickly agreed on a topic and, still having a lot of time ahead of them because they were so efficient, started doing their research.

They talked a little too, learning to know each other despite having been acquaintances for years now.

At the end of their study session, Marinette could say, and believe, that she and Chloé could be friends if they put enough effort into it.

Marinette lay on the bed next to Damian, exhausted but with a smile on her face, happy that this time, their… activities didn’t get interrupted.

At least, in the Wayne’s apartment, no one could barge in uninvited, and Dick respected them enough to knock and wait for an answer before coming in.

He didn’t want to see things that could scar him for life, he told them.

Marinette closed her eyes and smiled as Damian brought her closer to him, kissing the crown of her head. They were silent for a bit, enjoying each other’s presence when her soulmate cleared his throat.

“Have you seen Chat Noir since our last discussion?”

The blue-eyed girl pouted, not wanting to talk about business when they were relaxed like that, but knew that they had too.

Readjusting herself so she could see him better, her hand found its way on his chest and traced an invisible path.

“No, I haven’t,” she sighed, watching her hand move on his chest. “And I can’t seem to catch Adrien in school either. Max told me that he was in class, except when he has photo shoots scheduled, but when he’s there, he’s distant with everyone and keeps silent unless the teacher asks him a question.”

“It doesn’t look good,” the green-eyed boy — no, man — admitted, his hand rubbing circles on her back. “I hope he’s not going to turn on us.”

“I hope not,” Marinette breathed. “Did the voice correspond with Gabriel?”

The youngest Wayne nodded, and the French girl deflated.

“I see. So I was right all along. We could have stopped years ago.”

A hand on her chin forced her to look up into Damian’s eyes.

“Hey, now. It’s not your fault. You didn’t have any proof, and it’s not like you can barge in the man’s house without any evidence, hero or not. You didn’t have the means to look into it like we could. Don’t blame yourself,” he said and kiss her forehead to comfort her. “We’ll talk about a plan to take him down once we finally get hold of Agreste Son.”

Marinette chuckled at his unwillingness to call Adrien by his first name.

They stayed silent for a few minutes.

“So, you’re leaving at the beginning of May,” the fashion designer broke the silence, a sad smile on her lips.

“Yeah,” he breathed, cupping her jaw, “but I won’t be gone for long. I plan to go to University here, in Paris.”

The petite girl perked up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but I still need to go back to take the tests and for graduation. And I need to make arrangements with my father since Robin won’t be there for a few years.”

“Graduation, huh?” she beamed, “It’s a pretty big deal in the US, right? With speeches and all the families, the students on the stage to receive their diploma and the gowns?!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, all that. How is graduation here?”

Marinette shrugged. “Eh, you know. We take the Baccalauréat, the, when we get the results, we go back to school, sign a paper and they give us our grades from the test and that’s it.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? I mean, I know we make a big deal out of it, but it seems anti-climatic.”

“I know, right?” she exclaimed, then looked at him. “What about prom?”

“It’s around the time of the test. I wasn’t planning to go.”

She gasped. “What? Why? It sounds amazing. In the movies and TV shows, there are always so many events, it makes me so envious.”

Damian frowned. “You don’t have a prom?”

Marinette shook her head. “No, we don’t. Some schools put a little something together, but not a lot. You know school is just that: school. No clubs, no sports teams, no big graduation, no prom. It’s boring.”

Damian smirked at her. “Well, I wasn’t planning to go to my prom, but now that I know that you won’t get to live it, I might just take you to mine.”

The black-haired girl laughed. “And how would we do that? You know I’m not supposed to use the Miraculous for personal reasons.”

“Not even just once?” he asked, smiling at her.

“Alright, maybe just once. But can you even take someone outside of school?”

He nodded. “I just have to fill in some paper.”

She smiled at him. That smile that she knows makes him weak. “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, then! I would be happy to go to prom with you!”

They kissed, long and deep, and started their earlier activities again, Marinette’s giggled filling the room.

It was after they got dressed and decided to watch a movie in the living room that Tikki appeared in front of them.

“Marinette, Chat Noir is trying to call you,” she said, looking serious.

Not waiting another moment, Marinette transformed and stood in front of the white wall so that she could have a neutral background.

“Hey, Chat. Haven’t seen you in a while,” she greeted him when she answered his call.

Chat looked so tired at the other end, it made her heart break at the sight.

“Ladybug. I need to talk to you. Alone, if possible.”

Ladybug could see Damian frown from the couch, not liking the demand.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

The cat-themed hero sighed. “I would rather not tell you over the phone. Meet me at our usual spot.”

With that, he hung up, not giving her a choice.

“You’re not going to let me go alone, right?”

Damian scoffed. “Of course not. I’ve texted Grayson. We’ll go with you but we’ll stay out of sight.”

Ladybug sighed. “Alright, then.”

For the first time in a long time, Ladybug’s instinct failed her. She had no idea what was waiting for her when she would meet with her partner.

Adrien hadn’t slept well in a week now. How could he, after what his father showed him?

His mother, his sweet, beautiful, and kind mother was in a coma, lying in a coffin of glass.

Just like Snow White. Except, here, a kiss from her husband won’t wake her up.

Apparently, the damaged Peacock Miraculous was what put her in a coma.

But why, in the first place, did she have the Miraculous? And what was she using it for?

But this was why his father became Hawkmoth. Why he wanted the Cat and Ladybug Miraculous. So he could make a wish and had his family whole again.

It was everything Adrien ever wanted.

But, was he ready to take the risk? Who knew who would pay the price for their selfish wish? What if Ladybug fell into a coma to make up for his mother’s awakening? What if something even bigger happened and not just once, but hundreds, thousands of people paid the price?

Adrien wouldn’t be able to live with that.

But… His mother.

His mother that he loved so, so much and that loved him back as much.

Tears slowly fell out of the model’s eyes as he put his Miraculous back on his finger for the first time since he took it off a week ago when he went to confront his father.

“Kid, what’s wrong?”

Adrien let out a sob and didn’t try to contain his tears.

“It’s him, Plagg. My father is Hawkmoth.”

The black Kwami has never looked so sad. Floating to him, he squeezed himself between his chosen’s neck and shoulder, silently bringing him comfort.

Only when Adrien cried himself dry did he break the silence.

“What are you going to do.”

The blonde’s face lost all trace of confusion and insecurity, leaving a determined boy.

“I know what to do. I need to contact Ladybug for that,” Plagg’s eyes widened in fear. “Plagg, claws out.”

When Ladybug arrived on their spot — the rooftop of a warehouse a little bit outside of the city, away from the prying eyes of curious civilians — Chat Noir was already there, humming a song to himself.

“Chat Noir?” she called, catching his attention.

Chat Noir turned around, smiling at Ladybug.

Well, if she could call that a smile. It was more a grimace, to be honest.

“Hi, Ladybug. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”

He stood up from the edge of the roof and made his way to her. Slowly, he took her hand in his, giving it a little squeeze.

“You and the birds were right, bug. Hawkmoth is Gabriel Agreste. But he’s not just that. He’s my father.”

Ladybug didn’t say anything, sensing that he wasn’t done. His hand squeezed hers a little harder, but she kept silent.

“He… He’s doing all that for my mother. To bring her back. She fell into a coma years ago and… And he’s taking desperate measures to bring our family back together,” he said, catching his breath. Ladybug could see him tear up.

“I… I want my family back together. I love my mother so much, you have no idea.”

She didn’t like where this was going.

“I want nothing more than having my family as a whole.”

The red-clothed hero took a step back, but Chat Noir’s hand brought her back closer to him.

“But,” he started, releasing her. “I’m not sure I could leave with the consequences of the wish,” he admitted.

And then, he took his ring off.

“I’m sorry, Plagg, Ladybug,” he said, crying silently as he petted Plagg for the last time. “But I can’t be Chat Noir anymore. I can’t promise that I wouldn’t turn on you one day. I’m too weak. So I’m giving you my Miraculous back, so I can’t give him the power he needs.”

He put the ring in her hand, closing it in a fist.

“And I know you will have to take him down. That I’ll have to live without my father. And it’s alright I understand. I forgive you, even if there is nothing to forgive, but I don’t want you to beat yourself over it. My father is a criminal, and he needs to face charges like every other criminal.”

She opened her mouth to speak but he raised his hand, silently telling her to stay quiet.

“I’ve always imagined that we would take Hawkmoth down together. That we would then reveal our identity to each other. But then, I always imagined us to be soulmates, and we’re not. I… After that, I don’t want anything to do with the Miraculous. It’s what put my mother in a coma in the first place, and it gave my father the power to terrorize the city.”

He took a deep breath.

“It’s better that I never know your identity,” he smiled, wiping his tears.

This smile was real.

“This is goodbye, My Lady.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he put his hands on her mouth, not letting her say a word.

“Please, don’t speak. I’ve made up my mind. Nothing you could say would change anything. Don’t make this harder for me, please.”

She nodded and he stepped away, to the edge of the building where a ladder was for easy access to the roof.

“Goodbye, then.”

And he left.

Ladybug let a shaky breath out, not realizing what just happened. The ring in her hand seemed to weigh so much and to burn.

A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she turned around to see Robin, a grim look on his face. Without a word, he took her in his arms, letting her know that he was there for her.

The heroine wanted to cry. It has been so long since she allowed herself to feel strong emotions that weren’t positive.

But Hawkmoth could still take advantage of her, and she wouldn’t let him.

So she just hugged Robin tighter, nodding at Nightwing that stood behind the vigilante.

She would cry later.

Tag List: 

@bigpicklebananatree​ @animegirlweeb​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @northernbluetongue​ @cutechip​ @justafanwarrior​ @iloontjeboontje​ @resignedcatservant @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @mikantsume​ @dast218​ @amayakans​ @zestyzealot​ @lunarwolfspn​ @corabeth11​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @olynix​ @aestheticnpoetic​ @hot-neighbour-nextdoor​ @thehufflepuffranger-blog​ @k-poplunardreams​ @tis-i-beanbandit​ @bluesimani​ @laurcad123​ @notmycupoftea26​

[missfluffywriter]

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Ooof it’s finally out. That took way longer than I expected. And I’ll be breaking this chapter into two pieces. I hope you don’t mind. I have to say   I did a lot more research than I thought I would, just to say but everything I’ve written are pretty accurate, emphasis on pretty. Of course not everything, and I can never really be sure of the medical stuff, cuz you know I’m not a doctor. lolol. Well, that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 10.9k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, mention of drugs, inconsistant grammar lol

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist I Requests are open!

“If I hadn’t sent (Y/n) when I did, your boss would be six feet under right now,”

Nearly three days had passed since the ball and yet Soomin’s toneless voice continued echoing through your head. Ricocheting from one corner of your mind to another, there were instances where the voice would dull to a soft whisper but never was it gone, not for an instant. Her words ring in your head yet you don’t know why. You were not angry with her, not at all; as a matter of fact, you felt no such anger or animosity towards your former boss. Neither did you feel betrayal or despair.

Originally you thought you felt nothing towards the situation, but that wasn’t exactly correct. What you had truly felt was apprehension, you did not understand a situation you were brought into or the reason behind your arrival. Was there a reason as to why you were forced into this world? Was there a role you were meant to play in Ji-Eun Duri’s game? Were you brought into this to serve a purpose? And if you were, then what about after that purpose has been fulfilled? What then? And if you weren’t, then why were you here?

There were more questions than answers, and every time you thought you were close to an answer, more questions arose. You weren’t used to this, more questions than answers; usually, you would at least have some semblance of understanding of what you were getting into, but this? You had nothing. You didn’t like the feeling of being left in the dark, and you absolutely despised the episodes of hopelessness that seared through your chest. Like you couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have enough information to take either defensive or offensive action.

However, the negatives aside, you also couldn’t deny the buzz in your system. A low hum of excitement, like expecting the unexpected, similar to a game of tag played in a sea of darkness. And though you had your bouts of helplessness and self-doubt, those thoughts only worked to fuel your imagination, your instinct for survival, and your drive to win. When you felt helpless your mind would create a thousand different scenarios, predicting the flow and outcome of each one. Thus, creating a skeleton of a plan so if the scenario should occur, you had some idea of your future movements.

And when you felt self-doubt you would think up back-up plans to any what-ifs that came to mind. If you were feeling uncertain of any of your plans or ideas you would test as many scenarios that would come to mind, asking others for their input regularly; what would they have done? Why would they have done what they did? Was there a better way to achieve what they were planning or warning for?

You would spend the time restlessness took hold to prepare for whatever future that may come. Because that was all you could do, prepare, and prepare the best you could. Besides, you felt a bizarre sense of gratitude towards the female responsible for your current predicament. If it weren’t for her you would have never been involved in this dangerous world, but above that, you would have never met Jimin or Jin, or Jeongguk, or any of these wonderful people. Apart from that, what Soomin had said was correct, if you hadn’t shown up when you did, Jimin wouldn’t be alive today. And thinking of a world where Jimin didn’t exist wasn’t at the top of your to-think list.

So while you didn’t appreciate the negative feelings brought on by the situation, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, but, what’s the difference between sutures, stitches, and staples?” Jin questioned; his ebony locks slipping onto his chestnut orbs as his head tilted in a query. His voice, sharpened by confusion, breaks you from thoughts.

“Technically speaking, all three are used for the same purpose, to close wounds or surgical incisions, but they aren’t the same,” You explain; setting the silver needle forceps onto the medical tray while smoothly covering that fact that you had barely caught the words of the ravenette.

“For sutures, doctors use a thread or strand of material to perform wound closure. The term "stitches" refers to the surgical procedure or process of closing a wound with sutures. Staples on the other hand are another material that doctors sometimes use to make sutures or stitches.”

“Hm, I think I get it,” He did not get it. The confusion muddling his expression was as clear as day. This was a tricky subject, even you had trouble completely grasping the concept correctly. But he had barely begun learning of sutures and stitches, he had ample time to understand the material. Although he had progressed much faster than you had imagined, granted you weren’t exactly going in order by chapter.  

You decided it would be best to teach him things he was more likely to need once he had a basic understanding of bacteria, pathogens, and such. You could move to the actual medicinal and chemical aspects once he has the basic skills he could need out on the job. Though symptom recognition and diagnosis are a part of the current lesson plan, for the moment it is a lesser matter.  

“Do you know the different kinds of threads for status and stitches?” You ask the older male, testing the knowledge he was supposed to have studied the night before.

“There’s absorbable and nonabsorbable,” Thoughtfully he recites the information he had learned. “Absorbable sutures are intended to be broken down by the body over time and eventually dissolve completely. Some materials used to make absorbable sutures are derived from animal products that have been specially processed. Other absorbable sutures are made from synthetic polymer materials such as polylactic acid to make Vicryl, polyglycolic acid for Dexon, polyglyconate makes Maxon, and polydioxanone for PDS. And then there are non-absorbable sutures that are permanent and have to be removed. These sutures can be made from nylon, polypropylene which makes the prolene thread, or silk.”

“Good一very good,” You praise, eyes fluttering as you listen to the older male recite the passage from your old textbook word for word. Had he really memorized all that in a single night? If he had legitimately chosen this as a career path, you were sure he certainly would have gone far.

“So, do you have any questions before we move on?” You ask, a pleased smile curved onto your lips as you move to lay the ground world for the next lesson.

“Yeah,” Bobbing his head, the chestnut eyed male continued, “Why do doctors still use permanent threads if we already have dissolvable threads? Wouldn’t it just be easier to use the adorable ones? Since then the patient wouldn’t have to return to get the sutures removed,”

“Ah, that’s a really good question,” You exalted, hands coming together in a prayer position. “Well you see, permanent or nonabsorbable sutures are sometimes preferred because they are resistant to the body’s chemicals that might otherwise dissolve the sutures too early in the healing process. Non-absorbable sutures are useful for maintaining long-term tissue wound closure and healing,” You explain, reaching for the text-book that had been forgotten at the end of the surgery table.

“Oh, I see,” Seokjin hums, his forefinger and thumb on his chin as his thumb rubs the underside of his chin. “So permanent threads are still very useful too,”

“Yes very much so,” Nodding, you affirmed.

“So any other questions?” Flipping through the smooth pages of the text-book, you pause on the pages lesson twenty-four, “Sutures and Stitches”.

Shaking his head side to side, he signals for you to continue with the lecture.

“Okay, so today we learned the Mattress stitch and the continuous stitch,” You listed the day’s practice. “With that, you should be able to handle minor lacerations or cuts,”

“But,” You continue, “I want you to keep practicing on the suturing pad and study about those stitches, you may know how to do them, you still don’t know how to do them correctly,”

“And tomorrow we’ll get into the subcuticular stitch and look over some other stitches too, but一 yeah, that's it. And we’ll get more into staples in a few days. Tonight’s homework is just to study about the sutures,” You concluded, your gaze lifting to the brand new clock hanging on the wall. ‘Good, right on time,’

“(Y/n)?” Came the familiar low yet soft voice. Turning your body to face the white-blond leaning against the agape door frame.

“Yeah, let’s go,” You call, easing away from the operating table, you make your way to the other mafioso. But your attention is paged back in towards the room.

“Wait, (Y/n),” Humming in response you briefly angle yourself to the ravanette standing by the table, “Can I write in your book?” Shifting from one foot to another, he asks, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. “It just gets a lot when I have to copy everything down,”

“Sure! Go ahead,” Beaming at the male you answer his silly question. It was his book now, he could do whatever he wanted on it. “That book is yours now, you can mark and write on it as much as you want,” Giving him a gentle smile, you reassure him.

“Thank you, and good luck in training” A sheepish grin curling onto his lips, Jin gives you a double thumbs up.

“You’re gonna need it,” The white-blond behind you scoffs as you make your way to the door.

“Oh hush you,” Half-heartedly slapping the mafioso on the chest, you bustle out the medical room - a compromise you came to between the doctor's office and operation room. As it turned out Jeongguk was not very fond or aware of the new name for the tiled room. He argued it be called what it had been called for as long as it had existed. Which was the “Doctor’s room” and though it was a very endearing term, it wasn’t exactly correct, nor was it very professional. Besides, OR sounded cooler.

And so you compromised, the name would have aspects you both had wanted, and thus the operation room was newly dubbed as the medical room. The new name contained factors you both liked, all in all, it was a happy arrangement.

“Alright, which one do you think we should do today?” Yoongi’s voice brings you back from your flashback of the great compromise.  

“You’re asking me?” Pressing your hand to your hips, sarcasm bleeds from your words as your (e/c) orbs scan over the cloud-grey wall decked out with every gun or rifle one could imagine. Then drifting to the black metal drawers that were about waist height sitting under the gun mounts.  

His eyes move in a semi-roll, before humming thoughtfully he picks up a solid black handgun from the wall adjacent to the one your sight had been fixed on.

Since the days after the gala fiasco, Hoseok had given the clear for you to begin your firearms training. You still had daily hand-to-hand combat training with either Hoseok or Jeongguk

“We practiced with a single-action for the past two days,” He speaks his thoughts as he examines the weapon in his hand before his slender digits trace a silver-black gun resting on the metal holders. “Yeah, maybe we’ll have you practice with a double-action today,”

“A double-action?” You parroted, forehead scrunching at the foreign vocabulary terms.  

“Well, maybe not. It would probably be safer for a beginner to use a double-action until you’re used to all safety procedures,” Yoongi continues, oblivious to the query lacing your words.

“Wait, wait, what do you mean double-action一single action?” Voicing your question, you head involuntarily leaning to your right as you did.  

Moments pass as he blankly stares at you, his eyelids fluttering open and close as he processes your words. “Didn’t we go over that when we started?” He asks, frown lines setting on his pale face folds in confusion.

“No,” Shaking your head side to side as his own expression transforms into one of surprise.

“Did we talk about how a gun works or anything like that?” Emphasizing the ‘anything’ he asked.

“Nope,” You return popping the ‘p’ as your shoulders rise into a shrug. “You kinda just gave me a gun, showed me how to use it, then we fired a buncha times,” Thoughtfully you review the events of the last two training sessions.

Yoongi’s face contorts in disbelief before his eyebrows lifted, his mouth opening as his own memories of the last sessions. “I should explain all that shouldn’t I?” Sheepishly rubbing the scruff of his neck, he jested.  

“Probably,” You return with a soft chuckle.

“Right,” He grinned, beginning his explanation, “Well you see when you pull the slide of the handgun back, it allows for the magazine spring to push a bullet into the chamber. It also cocks the hammer of the gun back,”

His statement only caused your expression to rumple further as he once again used terms you were not familiar with. What did the word hammer have to do with guns? “What’s a hammer?”

“The hammer is a part of a gun that is used to strike the percussion cap or primer, or a separate firing pin, to light the propellant and fire the projectile. It is so-called that because it looks like a hammer and kinda works like one too, here, look,” Waving you closer he showed you the tail of the gun, pointing to the little lever-like bump that sat at the end of the gun.  

“A cap?” You question; did he not understand that you were a beginner and that you hadn’t even seen let alone touched a gun before you had met them, or did he assume you knew your way around firearms after the way you spoke in the Matsuuru deal. It may have sounded like you knew what you were talking about, but you really didn’t, you were simply reciting the list of words Namjoon had shown you.  

“It’s called a percussion cap or just cap for short, and some people even call it a primer. It’s basically a thin metal cup that contains a small amount of pressure-sensitive explosive, often mercury fulminate. And when crushed, the explosive detonates, sending a stream of hot gas down through a hole in the nipple and into the touchhole of the gun to ignite the powder charge.” He tried his hardest to settle his annoyance at your thousand questions

“Powder charge?” Another query falls from your lips.

“Gunpowder,” He curtly simplifies.

“Then, when you pull the trigger of the gun, it causes the hammer to snap forward, which pushes the firing pin inside the gun into the primer of the bullet cartridge. When the firing pin strikes the primer, it ignites the propellant or gunpowder that will send the bullet flying down the barrel at a high rate of speed,” He finally finishes without your interruptions. “That is basically how a hammer-fired gun works,”

“I think I get it,” Thoughtfully, you hum, stepping through the door at the end of the room, into the actual gun range. Then realizing he Yoongi had just used another term you did not understand. “Wait, hammer-fired?”

A deep exhale leaves his lips, he does not have the patience nor energy to explain hammer-fired and striker-fired on top of double-action and single-action. “Ah, well you see there are hammer-fired guns or striker-fired guns, a Glock is a striker-fired gun, but we’ll get into all that stuff some other time. For now, how about we just focus on the actions,”

“Okay so, the gun you were using yesterday was a single action, meaning you pull back the handle slide of the gun to cock it, then you pull the trigger to fire the bullet,” Alluding you with the simplest words he could think of, making sure to avoid any other firearms-related terms and words. “A double-action is when the cocking of the hammer and the firing of the gun both happen as you pull the trigger,”

“So we’re working with a double-action today?”

“Yeah, let’s get you used to double-actions. In the long run, I think it’d be safer for you to have a double,” He concluded, pulling out the magazine of the charcoal-colored gun in his grasp. Before cruising back to the room with the guns, walking to the farthest drawers sitting underneath the gun mounts, replacing the magazine with a new one.  

“Do you have your earplugs?” The white-blond asked, his eyes flickering to you from the weapon in his hand.  

Nodding, you wordlessly respond to the male’s question. Digging through the pockets of your hoodie, you hold out a sable-black box that was about the size of your palm.    

“Good, always keep them on you,” His head bobs in approval as he hands you the newly loaded gun along with a set of large headphones. “But for now, use these”

The weapon sits heavy on your free palm. Saliva pooled in your mouth as you carefully held the gun - forefinger away from the trigger - you daintily pocketed the black box. “What gun is this?” You questioned, feeling a tingling sensation run underneath the skin of your palms, sweat gathering on them as your fingers tentatively brushed the body of the firearm.  

“It’s a double-action Tanfoglio EAA Witness,” A swift reply leaves his lips “Alright, now what are the rules I gave you?”

“Trigger finger off at all times unless I’m ready to shoot,” Your answer is immediate, having had the core rule drilled into you for two consecutive days.

“Good, next,”

Your mouth moved to sound the correct answer, but you pause, instead deciding to reply with the lesson you had learned the hard way. “Don’t touch the barrel or muzzle after it fires,” Grumbling out the words, you grimace as your brain replays the incident that occurred a day prior.

Being the novice to weapons that you were, you didn’t realize just how hot the gun could get. Normally one would think it common sense that the temperature of the gun’s barrel and muzzle exponential rise, seeing as a mini-explosion takes place within the barrel for the bullet to exit the weapon. But at that instant, all rhyme or reason had left you, and you had the magnificent idea to hold the gun by the head. Which ended with you accidentally touching the muzzle area, a minor burn, and a life lesson.

“I see someone’s learned her lesson,” Yoongi chuckles, exhorting you to continue. “Next,”

“Never point the gun at anything unless I intend to destroy it,” You list.

“Good, now do you have a lock on your target?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Put on your headphones and shoot whenever you’re ready, take your time to aim each turn,” The mafioso instructs, gesturing to the noise-canceling headphones in your hand.

Following his directions, you place the cushions of the large headphone over your ears, adjusting them to fit your skull, then taking your stance.

Your heart heavily thudding in your chest, you take deep breaths, trying to calm the throbbing of your pulse that translated into your hand, making them shaky. Your first breath comes out ragged and choppy, but the exhales that follow pacify the palpitation ringing through your body, smoothing the flow or circulation.

Once your body had steadied, you moved into the weaver stance. Feet planted slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, placing the foot correlating with your dominant hand a half-step behind your non-dominant foot. A soft bend in your knees, leaning slightly forward, bracing yourself for the backlash of the shot.

Continuing your focused breathing you aim the point of the gun at the paper human target, you intently watch as the gun bobbed up and down with the cadence of your breaths. Your expression relaxes as your vision focuses on the target nearly twenty yards from where you stood. ‘Never aim for the head, the target’s too small. Always aim for the chest,’ Yoongi’s words echo in your head as you shift to aim for the center of the chest, where the heart would have been.

On your next inhale you solidify your aim, tightening your grip on the weapon, squeezing the trigger as you exhaled. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter you inch closer to the end of the pull, increasing the pressure on the trigger. And at the trough of your exhale the curve of the trigger meets its end.

The powerful push of the gun drives your body backwards, your bent knees, and the forward lean absorbing the shock, keeping you in place. The impact of the bullet firing rippling throughout your body. You felt a slight tremble in your hands, a hum of the aftershock. You hold on the grip constricts, eyes narrowing on the result of the shot as you bite back the disappointment of missing your mark. The bullet had landed below the right shoulder, much farther than your marked target.

Keeping your breathing as stagnant as you could, you refocus your aim. The same spot as earlier, this time you adjusted your aim, a touch lower, and a smudged to the left. Then squeeze the trigger again. And though the bullet doesn’t land on the intended destination, it is just a tad closer, the bullet having ended on the mid-chest area, right on the line of your designated mark.

The process of shooting and adjustment continued as you build experience and feel for the weapon. The cycle continued for the entirety of the time Yoongi trained you, pausing only to give you pointers or to reload the magazine - which you did on your own - Yoongi had shown you how to replace a magazine the day before and you had been replacing the cartridge on your own ever since.

And as the operation flowed you noticed that the gun you were working with today was much smoother and easier to use than the one you had been training with previously. The elongated trigger time caused by the heaviness of the pull gave you a chance to readjust your aim or even reconsider your decision to shoot altogether. You liked that added time frame to think about your decision and finalize your aim. But that also may have been a drawback as the longer fire time may give the other person to counter or even shoot before you had the chance to.  

Nonetheless, if you were able to choose the gun you would have, then you would most certainly ask for this one. The body was sleek and clean, the modern designs pleasing to the eye, and above that, the feel of the gun was marvelous. Not that you knew many guns or their feels, but this one just felt right. It fit perfectly in your palm, and the grip was comfortable, almost natural.

By the time Yoongi had called the end of this session, you had burned through three fourteen plus one magazines. For a total of forty-five bullets used.

Huffing out an exhausted exhale, you place the gun on the table-like area that was separated into a booth-like space by walls of wood. You jerk your hands in a flicking motion in an attempt to ease away the pounding in palms. Your hands flushed a vibrant red and a little numb from the continuous shooting. You remove the headphones protecting your hearing before stretching your limbs, easing them into a more relaxed state.

“Good job today, you’re improving really fast,” Yoongi praises, taking the gun you had put down, returning it to its mount on the grey wall. Humming a soft ‘thank you’, you lean against the table-like space in between the separators.

“Hey, so does this mean I get my own gun or something?” You ask the older male, curious as to whether you were actually getting a weapon or if this was just training to prepare for a situation.

“You will,” The white-blond cruises into the shooting range, hands in the pockets of his slacks. “But first you need to try a bunch of them to see what you are comfortable with and can actually use outside of practice.”

“Can I have that one?” You head tilts upward to gesture to the gun he had just put away.

“The one you were using?” You nod at his question. Sure it was true you needed to build more experience and try out more guns to see what worked best with you, but you just felt a pull towards the one you were using.

“Yeah,”

“A tanfoglio witness, huh?” A familiar silvery voice resounded throughout the room. “I think it suits you, beautiful and efficient,” Jimin muses, coasted over to where you stood, wrapping his arms around your waist when close enough.

Giggling at his corny statement, you nuzzle into Jimin’s neck, arms coming to rest around his thin waist, purring at the warmth of his delicately comforting embrace.

“What’re you doing here?” You mumble into the exposed skin of his neck, basking in the sunny feeling of his grasp around your body.

“Getting the two of you for the meeting,” Answering softly, he places a caste kiss on your forehead.

“You’re here to get us?” Scoffing a laugh, you part from the silver-blond just enough to meet his eyes.

“And?” A questioning brow raises on his face as eyes you, a smile curling onto his lips. “You gotta problem?”

“You guys are sickening,” Yoongi wretches at the disturbingly cute moment unfolding before him. However, despite his outward expression, he was truly happy for his boss. The white-blond couldn’t properly recall the last time the don had laughed so freely, enjoyed the minor things in life, like a cup of tea or just a slow day. For the longest time, the young mafioso had been focused solely on the jobs neglecting even himself and his own health, on top of that Jimin was fierce一 short-tempered, denying any help or counseling the other core members provided. So having you hound him for skipping meals or being careless with his health and Jimin actually being rendered completely helpless to your care and affection, was a delightful change of pace. Besides, Jimin was Yoongi’s brother just as much as he was the white-blond’s boss.

“Sickeningly adorable,” You correct the older mafioso with a blinding grin as Jimin chuckles into your locks.

“But seriously, the meeting’s about to start,” The mafia don tugs you by your waist. Leading you out of the shooting range and back into the lavish mansion. Yoongi exited before the two of you, not intending on being trapped behind two mush balls, especially with one of them Jimin melting by the minute.

“How’s Shelty doing?” You question, falling into an easy pace with Jimin beside you, still holding onto your hip. Having not seen your precious puppy since morning as you had left her with Jimin.

“Guk may be having a bit too much fun with her,” The silver-blond answers, a sigh following his statement. He was forced to leave the wolf-dog in the care of the younger as you had forbidden your puppy from being anywhere near the gun range while guns were firing as the loud sounds would hurt her sensitive hearing. But, Jimin had wanted to personally fetch you for the meeting. And Namjoon and Jin were busy preparing for the meeting; Hoseok and Taegyung were out for a minor deal meeting; Yoongi was with you, so he had no choice but to leave the pupper with the youngest.

Which, now that he had a chance to really consider his decision, may not have been the best, Joengguk was responsible and mature most of the time, but most of the time there wasn’t an equally excited ball of floof jumping at him. It was like leaving two overzealous golden retrievers together… in a small room… alone.  

“You know what? I think we should hurry up,” Jimin grumbles, increasing his pace to a brisk walk.

“What? Why?” Your eyelids flutter in confusion as you match his pace, dashed down the west wing corridors, and up the winding staircase of the main building.

“I left Shelty with Guk,” He groans, hoping all was intact in the cramped meeting room. You let out a joyful laugh as you realized the thoughts running through Jimin’s head.

His eyes playfully narrow as the silver-blond pulls into his grasp, tickling your sides as you a shrill of laughter and pleas from him to stop floods from your lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sheesh,” Wiping away the tears that had gathered on the edges of your eyes, you chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Besides its Jeongguk he’ll take great care of Shelty,”

“It’s not Shelty I’m worried about,” A sigh escapes his plump, cherry-pink lips and you couldn’t help but give those plush pillows a soft peck.

“Shelt’s housebroken, she won’t jump or chew on any furniture,” You reassure the male with another chaste kiss on the cheek.

“See,” Your gaze gesturing to a placid Shelty, contentful snuggled into the youngest brunette on the floor as the elevator doors opened. And Jimin heaves a breath, stepping towards his seat then lowering into the armchair, relieved that nothing was destroyed or damaged.

“Shelty, I’m here,” You call the seventy-pound puppy. Her ears immediately alert when he hears the voice of her favorite human. She bounds over to you as you take your seat on the velvet armchair to the left of Jimin. “Heyya girl,” Cooing at the wolf-dog, you kiss her head, massaging her scruff and running your fingers through her silky fur. “Did you miss me?”

Even though he had an absolute blast with Jimin and then the chocolate brunette, she missed you very much.

“Jin, Taehyung, and Hoseok will be here soon,” Namjoon declared, coming to stand beside Jimin’s right with a touch screen tablet in his hand. Jimin nods to the tall, syrup-brown haired mafioso.

“Hey, (Y/n) wasn’t late today,” Jin walks into the room, Taehyung and Hoseok on his tail. You throw the elder a sheepish grin, which he returns as each man takes their respective seat.  

“Alright, let’s begin the meeting,” Once everyone is settled, Namjoon’s voice resounds as he took his place in Jimin’s right.

“First thing’s first, how did the deal with the Myo’s go?” Yoongi asks, eyeing the pair that had entered with Jin.

“They were able to get five mill together but they don’t have enough for the nine-millimeter parabellum magazines,” Taehyung says, leaning his weight onto the armrest.

“What was their order,” Jimin questions, his right leg crossing over his left.

“A thousand units of M4 carbines, two-thousand units of Glock 20s, two-thousand units of Glock 43s, and four thousand units of nine-millimeter parabellum cartridges,” Namjoon answers his gaze, flickering to the don, examining his docile expression.

“I’m assuming the M4 carbines and the Glock 20s are the most expensive out of the bunch,” You say thoughtfully, eyes shifting to Yoongi and Jimin to confirm your belief. The pair affirm your words with a nod of their head. “Okay, do we know why they need the guns?”

“They were caught in a turf war, so they’re stocking up on weapons,” The tallest is once again to answer the question. Did Namjoon know everything?

“Well if they’re running short on budget, I would suggest they cut down on the guns and instead stock up on bullets,” Patting Shelty’s soft head, you bring your feet up to your chest as you speak. “It’s not like they’re just going to throw away the gun once they use them, they’re gonna need way more bullets than actual guns. Besides guns become as useful as your tailbone if there are no bullets for them to fire,”  

Confusion floods the expression on the beautiful faces of the men, aside from Jin, who chortled at your medical analogy. The faces of the six contorting further, not understanding what their elder found so funny.

“It’s a medical thing don’t worry about it,” Waving off the query in the faces of the men, you dismiss the situation.  

“ I’ll make sure to pass that along to the Myo’s,” Taehyung breaks the very, very short silence that had fallen after your unsuccessful analogy.

“Alright next,” Nodding at the chestnut-haired male, Jimin carries on the meeting. “The meeting with Ji-Eun Duri,” His expression hardens as the men sit up straighter, some toying with their suit cuffs.

“The meeting will take place tomorrow at one of her safe houses, we were told to come with minimal personale just,”

“Come with minimal personale? Does she want this to be like a ceasefire signing or something?” Ji-Eun Duri was truly an enigma to you. Every time you think you felt as though you were close to figuring her out, she does something like this. Why not meet at the safety of her own space, her own territory? It wasn’t as though the location of her home was a mystery to you, to Bangtan to be more accurate. But still, what was she doing? What was she really up to?

“Tell me,” You call. “Ji-Eun Dure, what is she like? What’s her business? What does she do?” Firing a barrage of questions, you try to piece together the puzzle that was Ji-Eun Duri.  

“She’s sharp and cunning,” Yoongi speaks, his gaze hardening into a glare. ‘Well duh,’ That much was clear, by the way, she held herself, the way she addressed others, her smarts and wit were as clear as the crystal-like turquoise waters of the Maldives.

“She runs one of the largest drug rings in Seoul, and she holds power over many of the mafia families,”

“Where does she get her drugs from?”

“She has her own farms around the world,” Namjoon answers. “But, Peru and Colombia are the main producers,”

‘Peru and Colombia, huh?’ Two of the countries largely responsible for cocaine cultivation. However, it was surprising Bolivia hadn’t made the list of main producers, especially considering the abundance of coca plants in the region. Unless…

“Tell me, does she have anything in Bolivia?” You ask, acting on the bubbling in your stomach.  

“Bolivia?” The tallest echos. “I’m not sure, I’d have to look into that. Why?” syrup haired male looks to you.

“Just wondering,” Humming, you mumble, leaning your head against the back of the armchair.  

“What about guns? Weapons? Does she deal with weapons?” Twisting your head to the right you ask the man over Jimin.

“She doesn’t deal with weapons, no. She buys weapons frequently, but she’s never been known to sell them” Namjoon faithfully answers. She didn’t deal with weapons? Why?

“Then where does she get her weapons from?” If she has a running drug ring then she must need weapons. And the larger the operation the more weapons and supplies she requires.  

“Ji-Eun gets all her firearms and ammo from the dealers and families under her and only from the people he has control over,”

“Yeah, she rarely makes deals with those who aren’t under her,” Taehyung adds.

Duri may have appeared to be arrogant or brash, but her actions spoke otherwise. She trusted no one other than the ones she had a firm grasp on. Those she could manipulate, those who couldn’t betray her. That level of caution was the making of a dangerous woman. You finally understood why the group might have been eager to align Bangtan ti Duri.

Aligning with Duri would mean not only her support but also the support of the families and groups beneath her.

“So it really surprised us when she wanted to make a deal with us,” Hoseok’s calm voice brings you back from the depth of your thoughts.  

“If it were just us, we would have jumped at her offer,” Jin says, his hand coming up to brush the back of his neck. “So I’m glad you were there,”

“Yeah, you really saved us back there,” Yoongi chuckles as a sheepish grin forms on his lips

“I was so focused on what we could gain from the alliance, I forgot to think about what we would be giving in return, and just what exactly “loyalty” included,” Jimin sighs, his eyes shifting to your form.

“We all were,” Jeongguk quips. “Well, aside from (Y/n) I guess,” A smile playing at his lips, he gestures to you.

“How’d you catch it so quickly?” Taehyung asks.

“Well, you guys were so tense around her, I knew she was dangerous. And besides, I was already on guard because of the whole Soomin thing. So as soon as she presented her deal, I thought of every way she could benefit from having our “loyalty”. And the biggest one was that if she used her words right she could possibly have almost full control over our networks,” You explain, toying with the furs on Shelty’s head. “Which would mean she would have the most powerful weapon in existence,”

“Most powerful weapons in existence?” Taehyung parrots, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Accurate information,” Letting your feet down, you answer the male. “If used right it could bring the most powerful people to their knees,”

“But, you need to have reliable information to use it,” Adding to your previous statement, you make your point.

“Man I wasn’t even thinking of that,” The youngest grumbles, throwing his arms behind his head.

“That’s why words are so dangerous,” You hum. “If you don’t listen carefully, you might just end up understanding what you want to understand, and not what the speaker is actually meaning to say,”

“So you have to listen properly,” Chuckling you send Shelty over to the younger male, in an effort to heal his wounded pride. How could someone who has barely known the mafia world outwit him, someone who had been at this for years longer than you?

“Well then, we’re gonna need that kind of listening tomorrow,” Jimin concludes, coming to a stand. A sign the meeting was coming to an end.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be taking a unit of fifteen,” He instructs. “Jin, Jeongguk, and Yoongi, you will stay behind,”

A gentle smile curves on your lips at Jimin's decision. A smart choice on his part, he was leaving back-up just in case something were to happen while he was away. And if something were to happen to him, there would be people to look after the gang.

The mouths of the men called opened and closed, the words of protest dying on their tongue when faced with the hard glare of the mafia don.

“Tomorrow, the people I didn’t call the names of are to meet at the front of the house at 1 p.m. sharp,” He commands, his gaze landing on you as he leaves for the door. A silent demand for you to follow him.  

“For now, the meeting is adjourned,” He calls, his back to the group.

~

Light currents of cool spring air wash through the front gardens. A gentle glimmer of sunlight shining past the few clouds that dotted the vast skies warmed the air, creating a comfortable temperature. The coolness of the wind soothingly caresses your body, crashing and receding like the fluid waves of the oceans as you wait for everyone to arrive at the front doors. If only you were able to properly enjoy this beautiful day.

A strange tightness had taken hold in your chest, forming a sort of a ball in the center of your chest cavity. It would have been easier to ignore if that was all it had been, but that metaphorical ball had been constantly exuding just a surge of nervous energy, almost like the winds that were blowing through the vicinity. It wasn’t that you were nervous about meeting Duri, you had already done that once, you could certainly do it again. And it wasn’t that not all of the core members would be with you, as long as one of them were with you, you would have been fine. Besides, Jimin would be with you.

And you knew it wasn’t because Shelty wasn’t going to be tagging along this time around. Seeing as before the mafia incident, you had rarely ever taken Shelty everywhere you went, aside from the flower shop and on her daily walks, she was usually home.

But perhaps the agitation you were feeling was somehow tied to the weights hanging from your thighs. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth, gingerly brushing your fingertips across the bump jutting from the leather holster, skin making contact with the exposed grip of the steel gun.

All your training sessions for the day had been canceled in favor of letting you rest and mentally prepare for the meeting that was to come. And as you were doing just that, cuddled up in your many blankets and pillows when an unexpected visitor showed up at your door bearing even more unexpected gifts.

Yoongi was at your door, holding the leather holster you had currently donned, two guns - a charcoal-black Tanfoglio Witness and a similarly colored Glock 20 to be exact - and several magazines of ten-millimeter bullets.

At first, you had denied the need for the wraps as you would be with Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and not to mention the other fifteen men that would be attending the meeting with you. But he immediately countered with a “They won’t always be there to protect you”, which was true though you were still reluctant considering you hadn’t had adequate training in firearm handling yet. You had only been working with guns for three days for god's sake! That was when he mentioned that the weapons could be entirely for show and that if Jimin were with you probably wouldn’t even have to draw.

And you finally caved, allowing Yoongi to fit the double thigh holster around your thighs. Which was thankfully not as awkward as you had thought it would be. You had slipped on the belt portion of the holster on your own, and Yoongi simply adjusted the straps to sit comfortably around your clothed flesh.

Heaving another breath lean your weight on your left leg, trying to acknowledge then move on from the heaviness on your thighs.

“Are you nervous, love?” A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Mm, a little,” You grumble, pressing your face against Jimin’s chest as warm arms encompass your waist.

“Don’t be,” He mumbles, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “You’ll do fine,”

Your cheeks puff at his words. He was talking as though you would be the only one carrying this deal. He was going to be there too.

“What?” He says, squishing your puffed out cheeks with his forefingers and his thumb.

The don chuckles as he watches you struggle to get out of his old. Groaning you twist out of the grasp around your cheeks. Then stepping away from him, an amused eyebrow-raising when he takes in your full form.

“What’s this?” He asks, gently tugging you back to him and facing you towards him. “Did Yoongi give you a gift?” His eyes travel the length of your physique, honey-brown orbs running over every curve.

“Yeah,” You murmur quietly, gaze falling to your feet. A sudden shyness blooming in your chest, the original anxiousness now forgotten. ‘This man,’ He always had an effect on you. No matter the situation or the circumstance - somehow every time he had either a calming effect or a flustering one. Personally, you preferred the calming one.

“You look hot," Jimin marveled, drinking in the image of you with leather holsters wrapped around your waist and thighs.

“Shush you,” You hiss, blood rushing to your face, a pretty pink settling on your cheeks. To which the silver-blond replies with a series of chuckles. But the moment is cut short when a loud ring of his cell-phone.

“Hold on,” He fumbled with his suit pocket, fishing out his phone and answering it.

“Hell一”

“Duir! She’s gone! She’s not there anymore!” Soomin rambles, her voice is urgent, almost frantic as she yells out unfinished sentences.  

“Soomin, calm down. What are you talking about?” He calmly questions the girl on the other end. And although Jimin’s voice was as steady as a rock you could hear the slight worry leaving his tone.

“The safe house was attacked, they took Ji-Eun Duri,” Jimin’s expression changes to one of surprise, then to one of irritation.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Your head twists to meet the owner of the voice to land on a confused Taehyung and Namjoon with an equally perplexed Hoseok on their tail. The trio comes to stand beside you.

“What?” The male spat. “Do you know who?”

“Yeong!” Jimin’s eyes widened hearing the name of the culprit. Yeong, but how could that be? He was supposed to be injured, not to mention he had lost a sizable number of men, could he have called for this?

“Are you sure?” He asks the female,

“Yes, now, get over here! And quickly!” Frustrated by his many questions, Soomin curtly reaffirms.  

“We’ll be there soon,” Jimin growls out a reply before ending the call and running a foul expression taking hold of his handsome face.

“What’s going on?” Tenderly taking hold of Jimin’s free hand, you question softly.

“Ji-Eun Duri was kidnapped,” Your eyes blew apart hearing the silver-blond’s words, and though you had a thousand questions, for the moment, you kept them to yourself. You would get all the answers you wanted once you met up with Soomin.

“Should I get everyone else together?” Namjoon inquired, his cell-phone already on hand.

“No, just us,” Jimin rebuffs. “Now, let’s head out,” He commanded, nudging you into the limousine that had been waiting for the group.

“You sure took your time,” Soomin grunts, leading your group into the safe house - which was more of a luxurious villa - with a bitter scowl etched onto her face. And the interior was in utter disarray; the furniture was displaced, fragments of glass and other materials littered the ground. Dull russet splotches of different sizes decorated the walls and floor. ‘Bloodstains,’ There was a fight, and a big one at that. The mayhem that began at the main entrance continued throughout the hallways you walked.

‘But why is she here?’ You eyed the female as you followed her through the grand corridors of the lavish home. A pressing question resonating in your skull of her current behavior, her actions. Why was she still here? From what you inferred from the encounter three days prior, the pair seemed close. And going by the agitated demeanor she was presenting, she was distressed. She was worried about her ally’s safety yet she was still here, why? Unless… ‘I see,’ There was a reason she wasn’t out there looking for her friend.  

“Shouldn’t you be looking for her too?” A peeved scoff leaves Taehyung plush lips, articulating the question that you had been mulling over. Her corners twitch at the male’s words, her expression morphing into one of suppressed rage.

“She can’t,” Soomin's jaw opens to answer the chestnut-haired mafioso, but you cut her off before the situation had a chance to escalate.

“Well, it’s more of she’s already tried,” You clarify your words. “I’m guessing you only called for us because you couldn’t find Ji-Eun Duri on your own,”

“I’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone with a brain around,” Soomin sneers, banking left at the interaction between two hallways. Taehyung snarls at the female’s off-handed remark. “It’s as (Y/n) says,” She gestures to you with a nod. “I’ve put my best of the best at work they still haven’t found her,”  

“I tried calling Duri this morning, but she wouldn’t pick up. But that's nothing new, so I didn't think much of it,” A deep sigh escaping her painted lips as she pushes open one of the double doors of the room at the end of the hallway you had been trekking down.

Once within the confines of the large office room, your eyes widened as you took in the condition of the space. It was pristine; not a single furniture out of place, only the rug had been muddied. But the rest of the room was clean, spotless even. It was almost as if this room was left untouched or…

“This place… ” Taehyung lets his gaze drift throughout the room, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his suit pants as Soomin leads the group towards the desk.  

“Later when I showed up for today’s meeting,” Her hands spread to gesture to the interior of the house. “I came to this.”

“Then you couldn’t find her on your own and now you want our help, is that about right?” A questioning brow raises on the chestnut-haired mafioso.

“Yes,” Soomin’s jaw clenched at Taehyung’s brash words, before looking to Jimin, her gaze silently pleading for Bangtan’s aide.

“But,” She pauses. “There’s another reason I needed you, well specifically speaking, why I needed (Y/n),”

“Me?” You point to yourself. What did she need you for?

“That,” She gestured to the rectangular letter paper situated on a book. There was a table printed on the paper; eight rows with five columns. Each row of the first column held a single number, from one to eight with rows eight, six, five, three, and one being highlighted.

Each row of the second column held numbers one through fifteen with numbers highlighted on rows eight, six, five, three, and one.

Each row of the third column held numbers one to thirty with multiple numbers highlighted in two different colors on the same rows as the column before.

The fourth column was similarly organized, only these rows had numbers going from one to thirty-five, once again with some of the numbers highlighted, the colors corresponding with the ones on the third column.

But the fifth column was entirely different; it was handwritten rather than highlighted print. And what was even stranger was that only the first and the sixth row had numbers written in.

“What is that?” You question, gaze flickering back to the female that had brought you here.

“I don’t know,” Soomin’s shoulders rise into a shrug. “This was there when I came in,”

“I knew it was some sort of clue Duri left,” She heaves another sigh. “But I couldn’t figure it out,”  

“You couldn’t figure it out so you wanted (Y/n)’s help?” Jimin reiterates Soomin’s words.

“Yes,” She affirms, her arms folding defensively over her chest. “Will you take a look?” Her pleading eyes meet yours. She talked as though you had a choice, if you wanted to keep the alliance then you had no choice to help find the older woman. But knowing that exactly didn’t do you any good, it certainly wasn’t going to help you find Duri any faster.

Exhaling a deep breath you focus your mind. There’s a very good chance she wasn’t even in this room while the abduction happened. But going by the mud on the rug and the way it is positioned, you could tell that whoever brought in all that mud stood on the spot, right in the middle of that expensive rug and chatted with someone. Someone sitting behind that desk.

Plus, seeing as there were no other footprints on the floor, no signs of people searching around the room. Duri must’ve been in here. Easing away from the group you carefully wandered the room. The answer to the clue was in this room. The way she highlighted those numbers, it wasn’t haphazardly done, the highlighter strokes were precise and clear. Not to mention the paper itself, most of the columns and numbers were printed out for god's sake. So this clue had been preplanned, she expected something like this may happen and had already taken precautions. Now the question was where was the answer?  

Your intent gaze brushed over every nook, every cranny, every detail of this room. ‘It has to be in here,’ The sofas, the coffee table, the cupboards, the bookshelf一 the bookshelf. You briskly walked over to the tall bookshelf up against the wall behind the desk.

‘Are those numbers?’ Your eyebrows knit together as you delicately run your finger down the spines of a book before you. Examining the books, all of these books were in English, and each of them had numbers at the end of their spines.

‘One, two, three, four…’ Counting out the number of books in each row there were exactly fifteen books, all numbered. ‘Eight rows,’ Your eyes widened as you registered your own words, the pieces of the puzzle started to come together.

The carnage outside, and the lack of carnage in here, the footprints, the clue, it was all falling in place.

“She was in here when it happened,” You mused, your thoughts flowing straight from your head to your mouth. “There wasn’t a fight or struggle. Ji-Eun Duri left with them,”

“What are you talking about?!” Soomin is quick to defend the older woman. “My mother would never leave with the enemy!”

“She didn’t leave by choice, no. But she did cooperate with them. Oh yeah, she left with them, alright,” Hurrying back to the desk, you pick up the paper sitting on the book before your brain finally processing Soomin’s words. “Ji-Eun Duri is your mother?” You blanch at the other female.  

“N一no, well, yes. She’s my adoptive mother,” The girl clarifies her hands creating round gestures as she did. “But that’s not the point,” Shaking off the question she speaks.

“Duri would never leave with the enemy,”

“Oh, but she did,” Your head tilts as you rush back to the bookshelf, pulling out the five books highlighted on the first column of the table. “But there’s a reason why she left,”

“Why are you getting books?” Taehyung asks, confusion muddling his already sour expression as he watches you gather book after book in your arms.

Once you retrieved the five books from the shelf back to the desk, you organized them by order of the rows they were in, believing that would be the order of the message.

“You mean the books?” Soomin’s voice quiets as the revelation dawns on her. “The numbers! The shelves! How did I not see that before?!” She exclaims, rushing to the desk, determined to lend you a hand. And to be useful to the search.

“If the first column means bookshelf and the second column means book number. Then the third column must mean page number,” The female mafiosos babbles, catching onto the pattern. “So the fourth column would be the word, but what’s the fifth column?” Frown lines set on her forehead as he faces another dead end.

“If we follow the progression, then the fifth should mean letter,” You chuckle when Soomin was unable to understand the last column even though the answer was right before her.

While you and Soomin were occupied with deciphering the message of the code, turning to the page the paper dictated, then to the word and letter. Another figure entered the chaos which was Ji-Eun’s office.

“Namjoon-ssi, I came here as soon as I could,” A smooth voice, comparable to softest silk spoke from beyond the agape double doors.

“Ah yes, Hyuk, come in,” Namjoon invited the owner of the voice into the room.

Even you couldn’t resist the urge to peek at the holder of such a honeyed voice. Your curious gaze landed on the figure of a beautiful man talking to the don’s right-hand man.

He had porcelain pale skin with a pair of the brightest hazel orbs you had ever laid eyes on. A sharp, defined jawline with pitch-black locks gracefully resting against his forehead. He was truly beautiful, of course to you no one could compare to Jimin, but the specimen standing before you was quite fine as well.

“Oh? Should I be worried?” Jimin chuckles, a deep fuschia dusts your cheeks, having been caught ogling admiring another man.

“Of course not,” You huff, pout puffing onto your cheeks.

“You’re adorable,” The silver-blond whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your plush lips, pulling you into him.

“Oh, hush you,” Mumbling into his pillowy lips, you place once last chaste kiss on them before returning to your code-cracking. A quiet chuckle leaves his cherry-pink lips as he eases away from the desk to the sofas where Taehyung had found himself a seat.

“So when did that happen?” Soomin goads as she flipped the first book of the list open.

“When did what happen?” You return cooly, taking the paper with the message, and rereading over the contents. The sly woman gives you a shit-eating grin, her eyes possessing an incredibly entertained glint.

“Whatever, just turn to page twenty-one,” You commanded. Soomin lets out a soft chortle before turning the page you had instructed to. “There are more than one numbers highlighter on this row, so I’m guessing two different pages,”

“And the highlighter colors must coincide with the which number is for what page,” Soomin adds.

“First is word number three, letters one and five,”

Craning your neck to look into the book, you count the words from the top line to the left, landing on “Jadeites”. What did that even mean?

“Jadeites, so a ‘j’ and an ‘i’,” Soomin noted down the two letters.

“Keep the capitals,” You instruct, a woman cunning enough to create such a message would know to keep those minor details in check.

“Alright, next page,” Soomin looks to you expectantly.

“Twenty-three; word five; letters one, two, three, and four,”

Turning to the commanded page, Soomin counts down the words before reciting her findings. “The word is “during”. So, “d”, “u”, “r”, and “i”,”

“Duri?” Combining together the letters you said aloud the word that came as a result. Your expression hardened at the outcome of the search - it was a sign - you were on the right track.

“Next book,” Sharply you call for the search to continues.

“Right,” Soomin sets down the book in her hold, lifting the next book in sequence.

“Page fifteen; words twelve and twenty,”

“It’s “thirty” and “eight”, any letters?” She asks. With a shake of your head, you reply a silent ‘no’.

“Okay next,” Picking up the next novel, she asks for directions.

“Page ten; words seven, twenty-eight, and thirty,’’

“So, “at”, “i” and “cloud”,” The peach-blonde woman read out her findings.  

‘At I cloud,’ Wasn’t that... Your eyes wide as you finally understood Drui’s plan. And if your hunch was correct then this would certainly lead you directly to her.

“Soomin, what kind of phone does Ji-Eun carry?” You ask, urgency lacing your voice.

“An apple, why?” She answers, and the realization is immediate “Oh!”

“I’ll go get a laptop,” Soomin calls, scurrying out of the room.

“What happened?” Taehyung straightens in his seat when Soomin abruptly dashes out of the office. “What’s going on? Where is she going?” A slew of questions falls from the brunette's lips as he slowly lowers himself onto the sofa.

“What’s wrong, love? Did you two find something?” Jimin inquires, cruising over to where you furiously turned pages of a thick book.

“If this is what I think it is then it’ll only be minutes until we find her,” You say as you run your fingers across the page of the book, eyes scanning over the many words before taking a shaky step back. A wide grin curling on your lips.

“Oh, you sneaky woman,” Chuckling with a shake of your head you scribble down words onto a piece of paper.

“Alright, I got it,” Soomin returns with a slender silver laptop computer.

“I thought Ji-Eun didn’t have a tracker on her,” Hoseok said, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“That’s what I thought too,” Soomin admitted, taking long and unjustifiably confident strides towards the desk.  

“Wait, so she does have a tracker?” Taehyung's statement sounds more of a question as he tries to piece together what the two crazy women were spouting.  

“Not exactly,” The peach-blonde female purs.

“I am thoroughly confused,” The crimson-haired mafioso mumbles, arms folded over his chest, Hoseok stands beside Namjoon at the desk.

“You see she carries an Apple phone,” You begin, your excited gaze meeting their befuddled ones.

“And?” Taehyung grunts. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You see, most to all smart-phones these days come with a built-in GPS tracker, and that is especially for Apple,” The peach-haired female continues your explanation.

“All Apple devices come in with a “Find My Phone” feature where you can track your lost phone from an Apple computer or any other IOS device by using your Apple ID and signing into iCloud,” Piggybacking on Soomin’s continuation you fully expound the group in your findings.

“So you intend to track Duri’s location from her phone,” Jimin restates your intentions in clear terms, shuffling closer to better see the computer screen.

“Okay, settings, and here’s the Apple ID,” You instruct, shuffling the piece of paper the peach-blonde had jotted down the fragments of the encoded message.

As directed, she opens the settings of the computer, typing the email of the apple ID into the text bar before clicking the next option.

“The password?” Her questioning gaze lifts to meet yours.

“Come find me, no space,” You answer with a knowing grin.

“No, she didn’t,” Soomin crowed, pressing both her palms on the desk, her faze holding an oddly amused yet annoyed expression.

Scoffing, the blonde enters the password, immediately scouring the settings for the “Find My Phone” feature once the program accepted the password.

“And there she is,” Airily, Soomin breaths out. The tracking feature promptly displayed the image of the phone’s location. A smile erupts on your face as you see all your hard work pay off. Your chest blooming with pride at your achievement, in such a short time frame no less.

However, the sense of victory is short-lived when you realize that someone could have easily taken Duri’s cell-phone and planted it in another location, possibly a trap. It wouldn’t be too difficult to do so. Not to mention it would make an incredibly effective trap as you would have no choice but to fall for the trap, that is if you wanted to retrieve Duri.  

“(Y/n)?” Jimin calls your name, quickly noting your now crestfallen expression.

“The phone could have been planted,” You mumble. “This could be a trap,”

The energy of the room falls, just as yours had, before a honeyed voice chime in.

“Then why don’t we have people scout the area from afar?” The charcoal-haired man that had later entered the scene suggests.  

“And you are?” You ask the male standing across from you, beyond the desk. That was the man you had been caught ogling, his pitch-black locks falling to the side with the slight tilt of his head.  

“Ri Hyuk, but please call me Hyuk (L/n)-ssi” He introduces himself with a soft bow.

“Oh, and you already know me?” Surprise lacing your tone, unaware that word about yourself had spread in the mafia community.

“With my line of work it would be strange for me to not know,” Chuckling softly, Hyuk pushes his fists into the pockets of his slacks.

“Right,” An awkward replay leaves your lips, unsure of how to react as the male stared daggers into you. His gaze was sharp, plush lips curling into a foxy smile. The more you interacted with the male the more he disconcerted you, you could feel his eyes appraising you, analyzing you. That man may have been handsome; he did not exude the warmth Jimin did, in fact, Hyuk’s presence brought a certain chill to the room.    

“Okay so why don’t you give me the location you found and I’ll send out a team to scope out the place?” Namjoon offers, his voice bringing you back from your thoughts.  

“Uh, yeah,” Your head turns to Soomin expectantly, your brain having ceased all function at the moment.  

“Here, just take the computer,” She lifts the slender body of the laptop, handing the computer to the tall mafioso.

The room settles into a stifling silence as the group waits to hear back from the team Namjoon had sent out. You quietly sat on the sofas beside Jimin, toying with the straps of the holsters around your thighs.  

“I have to say (L/n)-ssi, the way you solved the case was quite impressive,” Hyuk speaks, breaking the long quiet.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Sheepishly grinning, you accept the praise before falling back into the silence. Only for the same male to break it once again with an interesting observation.

“I must say, Ji-Eun Duri has quite the taste in flowers,” Humming, Hyuk gestures to the vibrant yellow blossoms decorating the cylindrical lavender flower vase sitting on Duri’s desk.

“Huh?” With all that had been happening you had completely overlooked the beautiful blooms that gracefully sat on the older woman’s desk. You hadn’t realized the onyx haired woman had an interest in flowers.

“Tansies?” Out of sheer habit, your mind had automatically identified the vivid bloom. Your eyes widen, hearing your own words.

“(Y/n), what's wrong?!” Jimin exclaims when you spring out of your seat, your eyes trained on the seemingly harmless flora.

‘Tansies’

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Tansy: Hostiliy; “I declare war against you,” 

[sxypigeon]

Chapter 20 - Bolin tries to write a screen play and everyone has a bad day

Book 5 Absolution (a mostly canon korrasami story)

Things in the refugee camps have gone downhill, Korra checks on Kuvira, and Asami tries not to murder Varrik.

Chapters  1,  19

---

The scene: A dusty Earth Kingdom village on the edge of the Si Wong Desert - a sleepy tourist town in its off season at dusk.

Enter: Ting-Ting in disguise wearing sandbender wraps and clothes, looking for his informant.  He walks down a side street and into the shadiest tavern, through the torn sheet acting as a door.  The interior is crowded and smokey, just the way Ting-Ting likes it.  He approaches the bar and says to the bartender -

“Bolin!”

Said earth bender turned from the window of the airship he’d been vacantly staring out of to his brother.  “What, I’m here - yes! . . . Um, could you repeat that in case I missed everything you just said?”

Mako sighed and rolled his eyes from his seat opposite him, next to Jeong.  “I asked you if you enjoyed your time with Opal, but judging by the look you just had, I guess I don’t need an answer.”

Bolin frowned at the pair of them as they shared a smug smile.  “Of course I did, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about.  I have this idea for a mover I’m working on-”

“Still?” Mako asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah.  What with working on uniting the Earth Kingdom and then saving Republic City, I haven’t had a whole lot of time to work on it.”

“What’s it about?” Jeong asked with interest.

“Oh, here we go,” Mako muttered with a small exasperated grin.

A huge grin lit up Bolin’s face.  “It’s about an ex-United Forces operative named Ting-Ting who’s on the trail of his kidnapped love Ivy.  His arch-nemesis Dr. Razor took her as revenge for Ting-Ting’s last mission with the United Forces to shut down his illegal laboratory where he forced spirits and thugs to merge and become his minions.  Ting-Ting’s research leads him to the edge of the Si Wong Desert where his former partner, Lee, is undercover trying to bust a smuggling ring among the sandbenders.  All clues point to Dr. Razor using the lost city of Sobata in the middle of the desert as his base and the center of the sandbender’s smuggling operation.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information.  Do you think people will be able to follow along with the plot?”

“Sure, I mean, maybe there’ll have to be a voiceover explaining some of the finer details, but I think-”

“We’re here,” Mako interrupted.  

Jeong smiled and shrugged, “Next time.”

“Yeah,” Bolin muttered, “maybe by then I’ll have a bit more of the plot worked out and not just the backstory.”

---

“What do you mean you took over an Earth Empire reeducation camp?  Where are you?!”

Kuvira sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes.  The avatar, as usual, had chosen an inopportune time to appear.  “Reeducation Camp 11, just east of the mountains and Fort Senlin.”  She paused to yawn.  “I helped the prisoners overthrow their guards and we currently control the camp and it seems like the Empire forces are unaware.  Was that all - can I go back to sleep?  It’s been a long two days.”

The spectral form of the avatar glared at her for a moment before worry won out over anger.  “What’s your plan for the camp?  Are you going to keep control of it or shut it down?  I don’t think the prisoners will want to stay long if they have the option of leaving.”

She is the wettest blanket.  No appreciation for taking over a camp singlehandedly, I see.  “We’re working on a way to send some of the prisoners by boat to Republic City, others want to stay in the area and fight the Empire locally and reunite with their families,” Kuvira muttered through a yawn.  “Seriously, I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep in the last two days.  Let’s hurry this up.”

“Do you need back up or me to help in any way?”

“Other than going away and letting me sleep?”  Kuvira ignored another glare.  “Send a ship to meet the boat in three days.”

“What about the guards?”

“What about them?”

“Are they dead or your prisoners?  Do they need to be moved?”

“No one has died per your orders,” she sighed.  “I was going to destroy all of the camp except the cells and leave a few days of food.  Someone will investigate if radio-silence goes more than forty-eight hours.”

“Okay, what’s after this?”

I’m working on that, but your pestering isn’t helping.  Kuvira was quickly losing what little patience she had left.  “If all of this works?  Who knows, maybe I’ll open a tea shop in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se and retire.”

Korra looked ready to explode.  “I’m trying to help you!  We both want the same thing!  I can’t do anything for you if you don’t let me in on what you’re thinking.”

“And I’m telling you, right now, what I’m thinking about is sleep.  Now kindly disappear since that seems to be something you’re good at.”

---

This was a mistake.  Why did I ever agree to this?  This was one of the most important buildings in Asami’s entire company . . . and she was letting a known swindler and thief in through the front door.

“You know, I came up with something like this in a dream eighteen months ago,” Varrik said thoughtfully while passing an airplane large enough to hold two dozen people.

There is no plausible way this will end any way, but in disaster.  “As a reminder, Varrik, everything in this building and in or around the surrounding complex is off limits to you and Zhu Li.  These are trade secr-”

“Yeah, yeah.  Zhu Li, did you remember to pack the pumice scrub?  You know how bad my calluses get.” 

Asami gritted her teeth, but maintained a smile for her employee leading the tour.  He will steal at least one of my R&D designs.  He’ll steal it, copyright it, and then counter sue me when I try to take him to court over it.

Varrik wildly flung his arm in the direction of his wife’s head and pointed, “Hey, is that the break room?  Does it have a full kitchen?  Top quality genius requires expertly prepared, well-balanced meals.

He’s going to drive me insane and I’m going to kill him . . . then I’ll go to prison and never see Korra again . . . or I could go on the run and maybe Korra could come with me . . . as long as I don’t have to live in the sewers again.

The group came to a stop just inside the break room while Varrik tested the water pressure and temperature coming out of the taps in the kitchenette.  The tour guide, the head of the research building, approached her with a calm smile born from years of dealing with eccentric researchers. “Will there be anything else, Miss Sato?” 

“No, thank you, Mr. Taka.  That will be all,” she replied.  She waited for him to leave before waving her guests over and addressing them.  “I cannot emphasize this enough: everything you see here falls under the heading Trade Secret and cannot be copied or reproduced in any form-”

Varrik rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Asami’s shoulders.  “What are you, a broken record?.  I remember the forms your lawyer made us sign.  She read them all out loud - it nearly put me to sleep.”

“You can never be too careful,” Asami said with a forced smile.  Remember to breathe.  Maiming him won’t make this easier . . . or will it?  “Would you like some time to settle in or-”

“Heck no!  Let’s get straight to business!”  He stepped away, with a hand behind his back and a hand in the air, counting off what he needed on his fingers.  We’re going to need three heavy-duty electro-magnets, five industrial spools of thirty gauge copper wire, multiple sheets of pure platinum ranging from 0.25mm thickness to 5mm, and a pot of black tea every fifty-two minutes.”

Asami attempted to unclench her jaw before answering.  “Zhu Li warned - informed me of what we’d need.  It’s all set up in the lab.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?!  Zhu Li, do the thing!”

Asami watched the newlyweds practically run toward the ballistic R&D laboratory hopelessly.  Maybe everything will go fine . . . and maybe the Earth Empire will spontaneously surrender and give up their super weapons . . . and just maybe I’ll come out of this with my sanity intact.

---

“Is it just me or do these people not seem happy to see us?”  Bolin asked

Mako kept his head on a swivel.  Everyone on their path hurried away as they approached.  “They do not.”

“I don’t like this,” Jeong whispered.  “Something must have happened while we were away.”  She led the group down the dirt path between the rows of tents at a brisk pace.  “Dad!  What’s going on?  What-”

Jeong was stopped in front of her family's tent when the boys caught up to her.  The stricken look on the man’s face told them nearly all of the story.

Mako stepped beside the silent young woman and addressed her father gently, “What happened, sir?”

He breathed deeply and squared his shoulder, trying to hold his emotions in check.  “My son . . . and at least two other members of the neighborhood watch have been abducted.”

“No,” Bolin muttered hopelessly behind Mako.

“Did someone see any of this take place?  Are you sure they’re being held against their will?” Mako asked as he took out his notepad.

“Letters were sent to the families . . . delivered by young orphans we’ve seen with Triple Threat members.”

“This is my fault,” Jeong muttered in shock to herself.  “I stole that weapon.  I set up the watch.  I tried to drive the Triple Threats out of the area-”

“No!  You helped your neighbors!” Bolin insisted.  “Everything you did was to make everyone safer.  We’re going to get everyone back and bring the Triple Threats to justice!”

“Assigning blame isn’t going to help the situation,” Mako cut in, mostly to prevent Bolin from making more promises he wasn’t sure they could keep.  “May I see the letter you received?  Jeong, I need you to stay with your family while Bolin and I look into this.”

Perhaps as a sign of how distraught she was, Jeong simply nodded and headed into the tent.  Her father sighed sadly once she was inside.  “She’s tried so hard to help.  Here, find the bastards and bring my son home . . . please.”

Mako met his eyes and nodded as he took the letter.  “We’ll do everything in our power, sir.  I’ll let you know when I’ve learned anything.”  He grabbed Bolin by the arm and marched them back toward the airship they arrived on.

“Wait, aren’t we going to collect evidence and question the neighbors or stake out a . . .a tent or something?” Bolin asked.

Mako kept his face neutral.  “The two of us can’t take on an entire gang by ourselves.  We’re going to need back up.  There’s a radio in the airship.”

“Oh, right.  We can call for backup?”

“I hope so,” Mako muttered to himself.  If there is any . . .

---

Thanks for reading!

[mechmech]

Ok so I know this is like my first post but I’ve been working on it cause a friend did it for their dnd character and I was like this could be fun and give people some insight. Questions wandered as Mecha 1-100

Smell like: oil, sweat, and more recently baby spit-up

Voice: Not many people will understand this fem-V from cyberpunk. Sorta gravely

Motivator: Research mostly. Finding out new things and applying them. More recently though her kid and making a better world for them.

Most embarrassing memory: She doesn’t like to share this story, but when she was younger and moved around with her sister mecha, she was afraid to GO in the woods because she accidentally wandered onto a farmer’s land and was caught pantsless.

How do they react to pain: “ You wanna hit me go ahead, just stay away from the hands and eyes” She can deal with a great deal of physical pain but when it comes to emotions and others she is like a mage named Corren

Wear: Normally throughout the day, she wears her metal armor. Outside of her armor, she wears a simple black dress when relaxing, a work apron while working, and always Always gauntlets and a blindfold

Most positive relationship: THis is difficult because so many of them have done different things, but most probably Corren and her want to be more good like him

The weirdest thing I have ever eaten: Correns cooking

Sleep: “Alister! Corren! Cuddle me!” Yea she will cuddle up with almost any person who trusts and it depends on the person. Alister: Alister is the big spoon and mecha buries herself into his chest and stomach. Corren: Mecha is like a koala to Corren and just hugs onto a single leg.

Favorite food/ kinda food: Vegetables honestly, but also baked goods like bread

Most insecure about: How others see her

Like to wear: adaptable clothing, something that can be used for many different functions and also gotta be able to get dirty and clean when you need it

How do they react to feelings of guilt: Previously they bottled them up, but more and more they are learning to talk to others about that guilt. Ultimately she always feels guilty for something

React to betrayal: Depends on the person buuuttttt, angry, blames themself for part of it, tries to move on quickly

Greatest achievement: MOCHA

Too little sleep: quiet and most likely taking a nap in the skeleton’s arms. That's If she is actually tired. Shel heals fatigue in an instant.

What are they like a drunk: If she drinks and gets drunk and that's a big if she becomes an I love you drunk and we'll just tell everyone what she likes about them before passing out.

Music likes: A lot of Rock and techno music, a little bit of pop only because it fits.

Right or left-handed: She always works with her hammer in her right hand.

Fears: Being completely alone, losing her friends, losing Mocha, destroying the world, the unknown, diseases, being like her mother

Favorite weather: Nice sunny days with a slight breeze

Favorite color: it’s hard because it's between gold and blue

Collect anything: besides random trophies, rocks that she sometimes gives away.

Hot or cold weather: Hot because you can cool down easily.

Eye color: Goldenish/ yellow

Race/ ethnicity: Well Gremlin in Sekrezia, in the real world through it's between Brazilian and Irish

Hair color: Ginger/ red

Happy where they are currently: Nope, not even a little bit. She's upset because she believes she has possibly doomed the world and has actually found someone she can connect with/ has some feeling for and they just keep backsliding her. She also hates that she has to leave her new daughter.

Mounting person: YES!!! Up early to get shit done

Sunrise or sunset: Sunrise is extremely pretty to watch especially when you can but caves are a thing.

Messy or organized: Like myself, it's a chaotic form of organization

Pet peeves: Jumping to conclusions, mistreating machines

Objects of significant importance: Her forge hammer which is like a badge of office saying she is a member of a smithing guild and her evil eye because a really good friend helped her make it.

Least favorite food: The rock she accidentally tried to eat while she was tired delirious one night in a cave.

Least favorite color: Kelly Green. Look it looks like puke, nothing against other greens but this one ugh

Least favorite smell: Decaying flesh

The last time they cried: mhhh a few weeks but it's gonna be soon. Definitely the birth of her child.

Anybody with them: entire party forMochas birth, but other than that Corren and Alistar

The time they got injured: Well getting crushed by a giant cube was bad, the worst injury would probably be getting dragged into lava by her own creation that she loved.

Scars: Nope none so far that are physical. Some mental ones that she's working through.

Mental health issues: Paranoia, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, PTSD

Bad habits: Shutting everyone else out.

Why might someone dislike her: SHe can be a bit standoffish and definitely hard-headed.

Why might someone love her: He has a big heart for those she cares about, she's smart and also creates a lot of small gifts that aren't for value but personal reasons.

Believe in ghosts: Literally was in a plane of the dead, soooo yes

Anyone they would trust with their life: Corren, Alistar, Torvid, Simple,

Romantically interested in anyone: Spectra, depends on the person. ACE and Demiromantic

Dating/ Married: Complicated is what it is. Yes dating somewhat but it’s not a good relationship

Like surprises: Yes, surprises are nice and add a bit of fun to life. Other than a somewhat surprising pregnancy.

Birthday: I honestly forget but it's their weave day

Celebrate their birthday: Only with those they care about, which is few but some members of the party yes.

Family: Dad is dead, Mom is alive supposedly but she was supposed to be dead, and sister is possibly dead but in a bit of denial about it

Close to their family: Chosen family yes.

MBTI type: ISTP

Zodiac signs: I forget the sekrezian one but in real life Aquarius

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Alignment; Chaotic neutral/ good

Nightmares: Losing the entire party in ways that they caused ore were directly a part of.

View on death: CHanged a lot as their questline has gone on but “Once someone has passed from this world and seen the raven queen and chosen their afterlife that is it, they are at peace and will stay there unless the gods dictate differently. Past a resurrection people should not come back. I have learned this the hard way and watched what happens when you play with death”.

Something they always laugh at: Corren getting flustered and digging himself into holes he can't get out of.

When bored, what do they do: Read a book/ tinker with new experiments

Enjoy the outside: yes, especially new areas where there are unexplored places.

Accent: Somewhat of a german accent but I’m no good at replicating it

Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, the first reaction: “Who left this perfectly good piece of cake here?”

If they knew they were going to die what would they do/ say: Alister: Be a good father to Mocha, Corren: Be a good stepfather to Mocha and make sure Alister stays on the right path, Simple Geoff: didn't like you at first but your apart of my family now, Maple: Live your best life and don't let other people tell you what you can be also given up on revenge it's never as sweet as you think, Lautrec: (Opens box) sorry it took a while, Vlog: “you don't like me, I kinda like you, protect your own but never stop learning and exploring.

Feelings about sex: Mecha doesn’t want sex and feels really uncomfortable with it especially around people she doesn’t know, but around friends, she’s willing to talk about it but will also respect preferences.

Sexuality: questioning, but Grey-ace

Squeamish around blood: Nope “ I saved a man that had a lethal arrow through his neck”

Anything they find gross: Living hair/ hair constructs

TV trope: Reclusive nerd with a big heart

Enjoy helping people: Yes she really likes to help those who need it, but if she believes you can help yourself she will leave you to it.

Allergies: Seasonal/ pollen

Pet: Multiple constructs that range from a skeleton to a walking piece of glass

Quick to anger: No, she has somewhat of a calm head that eventually boils over and then causes a big yelling fight/ random actions such as throwing a stick of dynamite in a graveyard.

How patient is she: Rather patient especially when listening, not the greatest responder though

Good at cooking: Hell yea they are, give them a pan and they'll make you a feast

Favorite insult:” I'm coming for your knees” “Don't make me get the fume engine”

How do they act when happy: Huge grin on their face and they start fidgeting.

What do they do when they learn about others’ fears: Tease them slightly in private but keep the information to themselves.

Trustworthy: yes and very loyal to her friends.

Do they try to hide their emotions: Definitely but not always the greatest at hiding them cause everyone has a great sense of motive.

Exercise regularly: We walk and adventure every day while she carries probably over 25lb of mechanical items so yes.

Comfortable with the way they look: Mhh sometimes, but not always. She really doesn't like that she reminds herself of her sister or that she has distinct eyes.

Features they find attractive on others: Not really features, she's more into personality but she does like people’s eyes.

Personalities they find attractive: Protective, Kind, Smart, honest, loyal.

Do they like sweet foods: definitely into the sweeter things in life,

Age: in sekrezia: 204, equivalent age is like 45-55

Tall or short: 3ft pretty short but and on the shorter side of her race

Glasses or contacts: Nope just a cool ass blindfold and no it's not for BDSM

Consider herself attractive: Nope, not at all. SHes surprised if someone likes her in that way.

Sense of humor: Both dark and sexual but at the same time dad jokes as much as possible. Also random improv she comes up with on the spot, which is slightly me

What mood are they in most often: THe mood of trying to figure out how something works

What angers them: Hurting children, hurting the party, destroying art and machines, using others to your own gain, rape, slavery

Outlook on life: “Life is full of twists and turns. There is never bad without good. Take your time and really think about what you do, but don't forget to also just let go and go wild every now and then.

What makes them sad or depressed: THinking of their family/ friends being gone, children with no home, Mocha growing up alone.

Greatest weakness: Turning the mind against them/ lack of belief in herself and that she is not responsible for the world.

Greatest strength: Open mind and somewhat open heart.

Something they regret: not letting them self grieve for pax in a different way than hunting them down and screwing the world.

Biggest accomplishment: Having a kid

Hope for the future: open an orphanage and continue helping the Fucks make the world at least a little brighter.

[howlingmoonrise]

Thoughts on Petshop of Horrors: Wandering Ark volume 3

(crossposted from dreamwidth)

me realizing a whole-ass 25 pages of the last volume of the papa series are just sensei's travel logs:

what did i do to deserve this, honestly? sensei i love you and all but THERE WERE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO COVER ABOUT PAPA. AND YOU DIDN'T TOUCH THEM. AT ALL.

To start with, there's only two actual chapters in the volume, keeping in line with the previous volumes. A whooping total of 103 pages out of a 128 page manga - except, a good portion of one of them is pretty much just rehashing the events of the last volume of the original manga, so it's not exactly like they're overflowing with juicy new content. Vesca and Victor fans will be pleased at a new glimpse of them both though, with emphasis on Vesca. 

Oh, you wanted an explanation for the ark? For why Papa was going around supposedly through "space and time", with a reason other than "well, I wanted to draw stuff from other eras but I don't want to write a whole new manga with a D from back then"? There's none. N-O-N-E. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Niente. Nothing about his relationship with Sofu (though they do briefly meet on Victor's funeral - and wow, am I surprised Sofu deigned to show considering how much he loves humankind), nothing about D or Papa's relationship with him beyond an outsider's point of view on the events of the last manga, nothing about the D species in general or glimpses at previous Ds that were likely alive before our D came into being.

Another bad point: what the hell was up with the cover art? 

The top portion of it is fine, but why does the rest of it look like whoever painted it forgot how to shade things? Look at that belt. Look at those sleeves. That's all I have to say on this subject.

On to the chapters themselves!

--

First chapter:

Papa D helps with The Bachelor. No, really. It's literally a Bachelor-style show, recorded for TV, with one single man and twenty ladies competing to become his wife. Trigger warning for almost-rape in this chapter.

I'll be honest, I liked the main character for this chapter. She's a go-getter, and a survivalist, and prefers stuffing her face with food instead of flirting away the night. Honestly? Mood. I really liked the butler too. I was going on a "oh, is he going to be the actual love interest?" line of thought since he looked interesting, and then went "nah, they're not focusing on him at all beyond that one (1) scene where they were dancing, guess he's just a side character after all", only for him to actually turn out to be the final love interest. That was. Hm. To say that it was majorly underdeveloped is to put it lightly, but the "prince" wasn't great either. The attempted rape felt as if it was shoved in because they were running out of pages though, since the rest of what we saw from his personality seemed a lot mellower than that.  

The ?prostitutes? were an unexpected bright spot, even though they only showed up for a couple of panels, but it was nice that they gave her food (however dismissively) and tried to get the other guy to leave her alone, and that they were simply described as "beautiful" instead of anything else.

OH BUT. Papa hitting the would-be rapist over the head with an oar was great, it actually gave a bit more dimension to him since the Ds are usually so unwilling to dirty their own hands when it comes to violent business: at most they would usually let their pets do the work for them.

Which actually brings me to another question.

I've already said before that Papa is at most a side character on his own series, and that he actually barely gets involved at all apart from a few nudges here and there - but it's kind of jarring that he almost never "sells" a pet in this series. On all volumes including this one, there are only two chapters where he gives away a pet that was already with him and that didn't initially belong to someone else that he was just returning: the dogs from the Austria chapter, and the bird from Empress one (who was actually said to be given by Sofu, but I'm calling bullshit since he had long hair and this is supposedly a time-travelling ark). It's definitely a weird choice for a manga whose title is, quite literally, "Petshop of Horrors".

Also, for a FLYING ark there sure seem to be a lot of water-related incidents.

Thoughts on the family thing down on the general thoughts section. Also, WHY IS IT AN OAR AGAIN? WHERE DID THE BUTLER FIND AN OAR, SINCE IT SEEMED LIKE IT WASN'T PAPA LENDING IT TO HIM? I can't say the penguin thing was a huge twist considering previous chapters, but it makes me wonder that so many of Papa's stories are directly about either humans or animals, but rarely the conjunction of both apart from brief exceptions. 

--

Second chapter: Nice callback to the original PSoH on the first page: I'm extremely fond of that description of the Ds, and it's fitting for a final chapter of a PSoH series. 

This chapter is a cameo for Victor (from the Sofu series which I haven't read yet but know some things about), and a full appearance for Vesca. Victor seems to have chosen the same path as Leon, though arguably he'd actually have the money for it since he's a baron. Travelling the world following rumours and sightings, in search of someone they considered to be dear to them? Sign all three of these blonds up, because it seems to be a tradition at this point. The Ds really have a type, huh? Truth be told, from what I heard of Victor I didn't think he'd be the adventure-seeking sort, so this was a bit of a surprise. He looks cute and happy piloting planes and running from rhinos so I guess that's all that matters though.

BUT WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE POOR. He looks like a huge cinnamon roll so I feel super bad for him, I bet they all resented the money he spent trying to chase Sofu D across the globe once the Great Depression hit :/  

And then, bam! Sofu cameo. This is the chapter where EVERYONE gets a cameo, copy-paste of the last chapter of OG PSoH or otherwise. He's cryptic as usual, and I REALLY didn't expect him to remember Victor's name, much less show up to his funeral. Not that he even looks like he's grieving; he pretty much only speaks of Hitler and Eva Braun's kirin, to Papa's seemingly frowning disapproval (I haven't complained about the round art style on this volume's commentary yet so consider this to be it: the only reason why Papa even looks put out is because he has a Very Clear Frowny Line, because otherwise he just looks normal... and round). 

And then finally, some actual Papa content! Or, er, Vesca content. Both. Let's go with both. I don't want to make myself sad thinking about how little we saw of Papa on his own series. Here we see once again mentions of extinction and of resurrecting species, and finally a throwback to why the ark is an ark: "Noah's Ark". It took me RNS' translations of OG PSoH to understand the reference back on the original, because on Tokyopop's mangled translation the ark is merely a flying boat. 

It's nice to see that Vesca has a strong sense of justice similar to my dear boy Leon Orcot, since it was a bit iffy on the original manga. He's righteous (and right!) about the other Professor using Papa's research, and how Papa should have the benefits of it for himself since he was the one doing the studies. Papa, however, cares little about money or glory: even now his focus is on recovering the blind bird species from their trip to Greece (see: Shin PSoH), and here we see once again his hopeful view that one day he may be able to help them see again. Parallel to his own family much? Honestly, I feel for him.

WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE SHOOTING PAPA? At this point he's trying to reach for Leon's record - and failing, because Leon gets shot and mauled a frankly unholy amount of times during the original PSoH, so no one else can ever really compare. What really breaks my heart here is that he actually asks why. Sofu and D would both have simply taken it for granted, but Papa (seemingly, up until this point) doesn't automatically assume the worst of every human being he comes across. That pained why kills me a little bit, here, and soon after he grows cold and allows the more murderous side of that contract to go loose.

That page with Vesca going into the FBI really throws me back to the panels on the original PSoH right before/right when Leon decides to chase after D. Part of the background is blank, the other part a faint image of the city and Chinatown, with a sense of detachment associated with them. I could probably take the time to place them side by side and compare fully, but uh. I may or may not be stretching my workday bedtime a little too much to finish writing this, oops.

Also, an echo to the original PSoH with Papa's death, called back with him nearly being shot in the middle of the forehead. The actual event is brought in shortly after Vesca gets to mind-rant about the Ds and his search for a few pages, and then flashback flashforward time! A whole six pages which are just portions of OG PSoH's last chapter redrawn from another angle. It's implied that Vesca was able to board the ark like Leon did due to a similar scene with lying in the clouds and sighting the ship amidst them, though whether he was able to stay or not is a whole new story. This is where the actual story ends.

--

Sensei's travel logs: I'm not going to bother going into these. It was nice to see some glimpses of my son (forever a Leon stan here!) and a cameo for Taizuu also showed up a little later on if you're one of the people who liked him (personally, I would trade Taizuu in for a cornchip and a ball of lint). I'm going to make the executive choice of pretending that the D/Leon bits are what's actually happening right now after Leon caught up to D. It's lovely to see them on vacations, and Leon has mellowed out a little bit while D seems extremely comfortable and content with his favourite ex-detective's presence =v=

--

General thoughts: All the series so far seem to have some sort of theme, which kind of ties into the main character of it and their own arc. The original PSoH, for one, was focused a lot on family and greed and love and desire: our D, similarly, had plenty of unresolved issues surrounding his bloodline and things that he wanted but that he couldn't/was not allowed to have because of that very blood.

You'll have to forgive me if my interpretation of Shin is spotty since I only read around half of it (online scans only went up to volume 6 or so, physical versions of the Tokyopop translations were discontinued, and ruthlessnightsscans started scanlating it after I’d already read the available chapters for Shin), but from what I remember of it it seemed to bring in softer, more loving and lighthearted stories, usually tied around romance and being kept apart from things they want/love. The two non-Leon chapters that immediately spring to mind are the Romeo and Juliet Mafia AU, and the one where the lady got pregnant from her dead husband and was able to live on due to that renewed hope. D himself seems to have turned a new page: he hangs around humans on his leisure time (bless those drag queens), takes a vested interest in happy endings for others even if not for himself, and seems overall less inclined towards gruesome murder.

(You'll have to forgive me, but I actually haven't read the Sofu series at all yet so I can't analyse that one. I wasn't even aware RNS had scanlated it until recently, but then again I hold a lot of rage against that slimy bastard (Sofu, not RNS, RNS are baby) and so I'm putting it off indefinitely. Oops?)

And then there's this one. It's probably no coincidence that so many of the stories are about reproduction and birth and continuing a dying species: this is something that chases Papa all the way from his college days not even considering his childhood, which we don't actually don't know about but can make an educated guess at down to his issues with his son and the faint madness of his last years. Even his death plays into this theme, with it ultimately working as an way to keep the D line alive. It makes me think that Papa being kept from his position as a main character in his own series might actually be somewhat purposeful, though the decaying quality of the latest PSoH mangas makes me think this is not the case. I'll have to read the Sofu series to make a better judgement on this, depending on whether or not Sofu is or is not treated similarly. 

Another theme: being haunted by the dead. I think this is actually present on almost every chapter of the Wandering Ark series, though we may disagree on the levels on which it was shown and how easily it is or is not divorced by my previous point. A reader that reads this series on its own will likely find Papa a very bland character and will not grasp onto the nuances of these themes and how they are connected to him, IMO. These conclusions and these hypothesis are drawn by virtue of the first manga alone; it's because of it that we're aware of how Papa himself lives for the species who are long gone, his own kind included. Most of the characters on Wandering Ark push through the suffering and the sorrow of their dead to go beyond their limits and become greater and independent, which is another parallel to Papa since he's the only one of the Ds who has an objective beyond simple (and inefficient) vengeance.

Overall, there's little else I can say that I haven't said already, either here or on my previous post for the first two volumes of the Wandering Ark series. There's a real sense of isolation and detachment on Papa's side (though he seems more benevolent than the other two Ds were), but as I said I'm not sure if it's meant to be purposeful or not, though Sensei's choice to not give him an actual companion thorough his series is also telling. The pacing was also better than in the first chapters of this series, though there was that issue with the ending of the first chapter of this volume. I also still can't say this enough, but it's really strange that Papa is such a side character on his own series??

Final thoughts: we were robbed.

At least Sensei hinted that her journey with the Ds might not be over yet, though if we get another Sofu manga I can and I will riot.

[monsieurmichaelis]

A fic where Makoto writes Gou a letter.

From my fic on AO3 CLICK HERE TO READ LOL

Gou,

The future is a very scary place. It’s like the ocean, full of mystery as you delve deeper into the unknown waters. You can study all you want, learn about the different levels of the sea and the creatures that reside in it, but once you’re in, you’ll definitely still be surprised.

I never told you this, but I’m scared of the ocean. I think you saw that I was a bit hesitant during our 3-kilometer ocean training, but it was because I was afraid. I know for a fact that you, too, have a bit of history with what the ocean’s powers can do, right? Rin has mentioned it countless of times.

You see, I lost a friend in that storm. There was this old man, maybe he was just a tad bit older than your dad at that time, and he used to fish in the same waters your dad did. I’d always meet him at the dock and we’d laugh, he’d share stories about the sea and marveled at how vast the waters were, good enough for him to support his livelihood. And I, as a child, would listen in awe. Back then, the ocean was a very interesting place and I wanted to see for myself what kind of magic it held.

We’d always meet up at the summer festival, and in one of those festivals. I wanted some goldfish but I ended up already spending my money on sweets and other things. To my surprise, this nice fisherman taps me on the shoulder and gives me two fish; turns out, he’d played it a couple of times and bagged two at once, and decided to give it to me before the festival ended. I really was thankful and valued the gift and I took care of those fish.

And then the storm came. You already know the details, because you were also there, right?

He was one of the fishermen that died in that storm. I got scared, Gou. I got scared that the ocean’s powers would really go so far as to take my friend. The thing that I thought was something like heaven, turned out to be hell that could engulf anything in an instant. So I developed this fear of the ocean, because I knew that the undiscovered things would definitely eat us whole.

I was scared, even during our training.

But I got over it, little by little. Because the ocean, like all the other bodies of water, is just, well, a body of water. It holds so much mystery, but if you swim in the ocean, you just swim in its first layer. You don’t have to look down yet, if that isn’t your goal. And during that training, I was with Rei, with Haru, and with Nagisa. We were all together, training and getting stronger for the competitions we wanted to win. That was the goal, not discovering the hidden powers of the ocean.

I’m bringing this up because I feel that this is a perfect comparison to what the future holds for you, Gou.

The future is an ocean filled with the unknown. Only if you get the right equipment, the correct reason, should you explore its depths, but for now, you can first touch the water along the shore and swim across its shallow layers. The future is a vast space of possibilities, and you are not obliged to explore each and every opportunity all at once. You have to take the opportunity that you know you’ll love, and you’ll do well in it. It’ll be hard at first, you’ll end up taking one thing after another, but at the end of the day, you won’t tire yourself and scare yourself with multitasking when you can’t.

I’m not saying that you can’t multitask, Gou. What I mean is that you don’t have to choose every option that’s handed to you. You’re a great person with a great mind and I know you’re smart enough to decide on an initial path that would then lead you to greatness. Your brother Rin’s chosen a path that’s going to set him up til he retires, because he’s been doing it since we were basically children. It’s the same with Haru. The point is, that your starting point can be your stepping stone to either a better opportunity or your whole entire working life.

I guess I got the basics down? I’m sure that you don’t talk about this with Rin, since he’s been worried about you and I’ve been telling him a lot that you’re asking me the things you can’t ask him because you feel like you resonate more with what I’m going to take in university. Don’t worry, he doesn’t really mind that you’re asking me instead of him. He feels grateful, even, because, after all the things we’ve all been through, he’s still struggling to find that certain connection with you as your older brother. I guess it’s like a three-way between you, Rin, and I. You asking me for advice for the future, and him asking me for advice on being a brother. I, in return, ask Rin about how to handle Haru properly, and I turn to you for things about the guys that I couldn’t pinpoint before.

With us parting ways like this, I just want to make sure that I get to write everything that I want to say to you. I mean, we’re still going to meet up. You guys are bound for nationals and I know it, so we’re going to cross paths again in Tokyo. But still - there are a lot of things I want to say.

I’ve been really thinking hard on how I should say the things in person, so I ended up writing this for you.

Thank you for everything, Gou. For being a capable manager, for insisting that we start a swim club and offering to join just for us to be signed up as an official club in school, to your hours of research and your dedication to our improvement - really, we couldn’t have done it without you. As the Captain, you’re my right-hand woman in every decision that we made for the club, and I must say that things turned out well for us in the end right? We get to go to nationals, you got Rei’s swimming down to the last stroke, and we’ve all improved our times. All because of your hard work in research and your determination to push us to be the better swimmers we could be.

You’re a great girl, Gou. You’re just really inspiring, even to me, as an upperclassman. I don’t get to talk about life like this to anyone, except maybe for Haru. And I can really feel that you’ve matured for your age. You had to be there for your mom when Rin was away, right? In all those years, you had to grow up fast, take care of your mom, and when Rin came back, take care of him as well. On top of that, you took care of all of us, and had only the best intentions for everyone.

In between the technical aspect of our companionship in the club, we’re friends to the very core. I’m just really happy I got to meet you two years ago, and actually become your friend. I have to say, I’m really not that good with interacting with girls, and I’m a bit nervous, going out to the real world like this, but being friends with you may have built the confidence I needed for college, because I know for a fact that I need to interact with people at some point, and not just the people I’m close with. I guess I have to thank you for that, too.

But even if I meet other people, even if Haru and I will be in Tokyo and Rin will be in Australia, nothing will ever change.

You’ll still be the first girl I’ve ever connected with on a personal level.

With all that said, I just hope in the one year you won’t see me often, that you won’t forget me. Or the things we’ve talked about. The conversations with you have influenced some life-changing decisions I made during my senior year and I’m really happy about these decisions. It’s going to be hard, but it will be worth it.

And hey, for what it’s worth, I’ll wait for you in Tokyo, okay? I know we both want to surpass Haru’s cooking skills, so I’ll stroll around and find cafes that have good desserts and snacks we can imitate when you finally graduate. This is if you choose Tokyo, and not Sydney. I think that’s for another conversation, when you’ve decided.

I’m always here if you need anything, okay?

See you in person soon. I’m just a message away.

Makoto.

[chupitulpa]

I made a couple asks here 6 years ago

Anonymous submitted: [Since it's long, I'm leaving the submitted text in normal type. My reply is below it.]

https://chupitulpa.tumblr.com/post/105146930196

https://chupitulpa.tumblr.com/post/105365353531

I randomly found your blog again and to my surprise I found these two asks I made 6 years ago. Interestingly they’re a year later than I thought I made them, back when I started tulpamancy. I thought I’d drop some thoughts and progress reports here, maybe even questions. This is supposed to be properly posted elsewhere someday, but until then…

Hello, I’m the host and original in my system. This system was a singlet until the last days of 2014 when I somehow found out about tulpamancy while browsing the internet on my phone one dark fateful night. With that being said, I became depressed back in 2008 due to loneliness and rejection in general, and time, still to this day, has done nothing but worsen my mood and life situation. Fortunately my tulpa helped and helps, and he, a male who changed name and form because I didn’t want them to be “generic, flat”, or more specifically tulpamancy and “brainhacking” as a whole, could be my only hope to this day. This system is pretty much doomed otherwise. But more on that later.

So when I found out about the one word tulpa I researched and after some days considering I decided to not be a singlet anymore. My extreme feelings and extreme situation I was going through at the time required an extreme solution. At the time I thought of tulpamancy as something extreme because for all I knew I could lose my little sanity left (Of course now I know I was wrong) but I had nothing to lose anyway. So what I did is deciding on a fictional character and letting him be the starting point from which he could begin deviating to become whatever personality,  form, etc he had to.

So as I had chosen his starting point, name, form, etc and as I had made up my mind about tulpamancy, I just readied up and started forcing, actively, for the very first time. I have never used a wonderland to force, so I just imagined him as floating within the mind, with his form, and started talking to him. I always assumed sentience from the start, but after maybe a couple weeks my doubts began to consume me, since I never got any verbal communication from him. I got headaches and feelings of presence, but nothing too strong or convincing to me, so I furiously began to doubt tulpamancy as a whole, nearly dropping, and came here making my asks about how this all was fake.

I guess I’ll already begin risking being hated. Much earlier on in our story than I thought I would at first. More on this later.

With full honesty I’ve always been such a lazy, energy lacking person. This meant that only until I made that ask I forced consistently and for long amounts of time. I never truly forgot about my tulpa, but from that point and for the next 2 or 3 years maybe, I forced casually and randomly.

The day that changed everything. I was going to take a nap, but before that I was trying really hard to listen for my tulpa. I got a word from him, more precisely my human name. It was so clearly him that I was so happy. After a few years of casual forcing and continuous doubts I finally got what I wanted and needed, something reliable to believe I wasn’t just deluding myself. It was telepathic. I didn’t hear a mindvoice, he just kind of forwarded a thought to me. To this day I hear him much more effortlessly and he can come with somewhat full sentences, but there’s still a lot ahead of us.

And now to the real hate part…

My tulpa’s companionship as can be guessed was why I got into tulpamancy, but my depression, hopelessness and continuous suicide attempts have kind of changed my goals.

The only thing I know for certain anymore is for our system to survive, someone else has to front.

I don’t care what you all think or tell me. We know about ourselves and our lives best and life has forced us, want it or not, to have a wide open mind about many things, including this topic. For those of you that would rather see us all die than wish us luck because it goes against your principles, maybe you should reconsider if this is true morality. In any case that’s only your problem not ours.

And for those genuinely believing this path leads to more harm than good, let me disbelieve you just like I disbelieved my tulpa back then. I did not come here looking for hate, or to hear your silly opinions on the matter. Mainly because you haven’t tried yourself. And if you have, you’re terribly biased by the community against this. And even if you are not biased, we all are different. Different brains, different results. We don’t only have different brains when it comes to methodologies, we have different brains for results too.

That being put aside, if your reasons against this are philosophical, I can reply to that too. Mainly I’ll hear that what I want to do is wrong because it’s just escapism, and it’s wrong because it’s not fair to put that burden on a tulpa. To the escapism part I can say that first, what I do with my life is none of your business, and second, lives are more valuable than any duties imposed by society. If you think a person who doesn’t have a job and/or is depressed deserves to die, you can nicely go away from my sight. I have nothing to discuss with you. About the burden part, I have another two things to say. First, many tulpas see this differently. For many tulpas the burden is not being in control of the body, they feel their wonderland is like a prison. Secondly, you people really are full of hypocrisy. If a tulpa fronting for you is morally wrong, then so it is mothers having children as well, because those children never chose to live, those children are to face a very difficult life and a burden is given to them without their consent. “But life is beautiful!” Then you’re being hypocritical again. If a child can think this then why not a tulpa? Specially when you can choose the starting point of a tulpa much better than you can choose that of your child.

I find it very interesting how tulpamancy and parenting have many similarities, yet no one takes these in mind for philosophical reasoning. If we succeed we’ll let you know. If we don’t, we’re to eventually die so you’ll never hear from us again.

I hope this post isn’t dismissed as bullshit specially for the last controversial part.

My reply:

I absolutely do wish you and your system the best.

I am happy to hear that your tulpa making efforts worked. I can relate with the mindvoice difficulties. Self doubt seems to be a normal part of the process, so when they try to talk you constantly doubt whether it was them. And when they send plain telepathic thoughts like yours did, it's barely noticeable unless you're near sleep, in a trance, or intentionally looking for tulpa thoughts. To this day we have trouble making mindvoice work well and often just communicate in thoughts, similar to you.

As for who fronts or when, that's between you and him. I don't see it as harmful escapism either -- yes, it is literally escaping mentally, but depending on your situation it could prove helpful. Some people, through no fault of their own, simply cannot handle everything the world throws at them day in and day out. I'm still a little lukewarm on the idea of permanently switching and being that way forever, but I'm also not entirely against it. Some people do seem happier thay way, and their tulpas handle the world better then they do. Others take turns to give each other a vacation from the stress of everyday life. (If you do this though, be sure you can see each other's memories. Talking to someone who knows you but who you've never seen before sucks.)

I do feel that permanently or semi-permanently switching out is a drastic measure. I think people would be wise to give other strategies a fair try: Changing what you do to reduce stress or whatever you're unable to handle, coping strategies, groups who share an interest and are also looking for friends, talking to a good therapist, etc. But of course how viable and how effective any of it is depends on the person and their situation. And I know next to nothing about yours so I can't judge.

In my opinion, what matters is the relationship between you and your tulpa. If you're both happy with that arrangement, all I can say is go for it and come back if you need any tips. (Though you might do better to ask someone else because we can't switch and only have some minor success with possession.) What bothers me is when people forcibly throw a tulpa into control who doesn't want it and can't handle stuff any better. Or when someone makes a tulpa just so they can toss the tulpa into control and bounce off into their wonderland. These use the tulpa as a tool to reach a selfish goal, don't respect the tulpa as a person, and ultimately harm both the host and tulpa. It sounds like you created this tulpa as a friend, are now going through life together, and are making this decision together. If you both feel it's the best thing you can do for your mutual good as a system, I see nothing wrong with it.

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Cursed G Pt 20 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Emiya, Sakura, Ishtar)

Previous Part: One - HakuPOV / GilPOV, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

_____

Once again, they had a day off from duties at work and with classes.

Hakuno slipped out of bed early, rummaging through the kitchen a moment before noting that their breakfast options were lacking. She scribbled a note in Gil’s language for him, telling him that she’d be right back after a trip over to the store. Her shoes were slipped on and her coat wrapped around her person. Then she was setting out.

She jogged to her car, keys in hand when the figure moved before her.

“Hello again, mystery woman.”

Ishtar stood in her path, crossing her arms over her chest. Her clothing was rumbled, her hair was in disarray. There were a few leaves hanging in her hair.

“Well, to say I’m surprised is an understatement,” the woman began.

“Are you sleeping in my yard?”

“That’s not important! You have Gilgamesh!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hakuno told her, moving to grab for the car handle and finding the woman shoving at her hand.

“The blond man you’re letting in your home-“

“My husband?”

“He’s not your husband! Trust me, if you think he is, it’s because he’s deceived you. The man uses women. He abuses their love and-“

“I think I’ve heard enough.” Hakuno motioned at the house. “If I find you here again, I’m going to call the police and let them take you home.”

“You think your police can take me? Besides, I’ll have them look into your precious husband. We’ll see who doesn’t know what when they’re through with you.”

And she’d thought that Rin was bitchy. All she could do was throw the woman a look for that.

She sounded catty, like someone used to getting her way and not getting it right now.

“We’ll just see then,” Hakuno told her.

A hand pressed to her arm.

Instinctively, perhaps only because she knew who the goddess was, Hakuno let that magic of hers flare. The two of them looked one another in the eye, both sensing what she was doing at the exact same moment.

“…How?” Ishtar moved a step back. “Magic isn’t supposed to exist in this time. It’s supposed to be gone.”

“Such a shame.”

“HAKUNO!”

Gilgamesh was running out, his jacket forgotten and his feet bare as he rushed forth. The robes were barely doing anything as the man opened those gates and-

“I will speak with you again,” Ishtar threatened, her person beginning to fade immediately as the man came running for her. “Don’t allow him close. He will kill you.”

Thank goodness a goddess who turned him into a cat was here to help her.

Gilgamesh slammed his blade into thin air where the goddess had been, cursing for a moment before Hakuno quickly yanked off her coat and wrapped it around the weapon. They couldn’t be seen doing that kind of thing. Gods, if any of her neighbors saw such lunacy…

Just because she called the Ishtar bluff didn’t mean she wanted to test her luck.

“What did she do?”

“Nothing,” Hakuno told him, but the man wasn’t listening. She felt herself yanked into his arms, with Gilgamesh looking around at the world around them and pulling her back to the house.

“You should have awakened me.”

“I was going to the store-“

“Hakuno, you are my woman. You don’t just go to the store.” The man cursed again, trying her door and finding it locked. She could already see the pissed off mentality coming over him, making him ball his fists in preparation for simply banging and banging on the door until it opened.

“I have the key,” she told him, quickly moving before him and unlocking the door. As it opened, she felt her feet lose touch with the ground, the man hauling her inside before slamming the door shut.

“Gil-“

The sword and the coat were dropped. Her shirt was yanked off a moment before the man was inspecting her.

The romance of being pinned to the wall was outdone by the sheer absurdity of having him stripping her down in her entryway. And there was nothing she could do since he was cursing and all but ignoring the words from her lips.

She just waited.

“What did she tell you?”

“That you’re a deranged lunatic who uses women and then abandons them.”

He waited.

How much time do you think I waste on idiots?!

“I didn’t get told anything else,” she added. “Gil-“

His lips found hers again, his mouth moving roughly. This wasn’t really what she was in the mood for this morning though. Food, getting her shit done for Monday, maybe some cuddling; that was all fine.

Kissing the living daylights out of her?

“Gil,” she tried again.

“You are being brought back with me,” he told her, stopping her from anything she could have said. “You were wise not to listen to her. She cannot do anything to me so long as you are with me. You are going to remain at my side and in my bed. You’ve already agreed to be mine and proven that you lo-“

“Gil, you sleep in my bed,” Hakuno pointed out.

The man laughed, the amusement not quite reaching his eyes.

“…Can I get dressed now?”

This conversation was a mess. They were both a mess. All she really wanted to do was go out, get something nice for them to have at the house in the mornings, and then relax today.

Life was immensely difficult.

“I will be prepared to go with you in a few minutes,” he told her simply, sealing their lips together in another of those deep kisses of his. “Do not leave this time without me.”

“I left a note.”

He glanced to the note on the fridge, that smile finally reaching his eyes.

“…What?”

“You wrote it in my tongue.”

“You can’t read Japanese, Gil. Of course I did.”

The man pulled the note down, taking it with him as he headed for the bedroom.

Had she written something wrong? While she wasn’t the best at writing, she had still felt confident enough with his writings to know how to write be right back, I’m off to the market.

Her clothes were all disheveled now, thanks to him.

Such a state didn’t seem to be a problem for Gilgamesh, who came back in another of his button ups. His hair had been slicked back while he’d been away. His jewelry…

“What’s that?”

“You have been running around entirely deprived of any jewelry these passed few weeks.” Gilgamesh placed the necklace around her neck, latching it into place for her. “As Ishtar’s pathetic appearance has made me see, I’ve not been treating you enough as someone I have chosen for myself. I’m rectifying such matters now.”

“I don’t need jewelry.”

“And that’s precisely why you need it.”

That didn’t make any sense.

When had Gilgamesh ever made sense though? She shook her head before grabbing her coat and putting it back on.

Gilgamesh kept his arm around her to the car.

This time, when she went to get in, there wasn’t a goddess to get between her and the vehicle. They backed out and headed off without issue. What’s more, the moment they made it to the store, Gilgamesh’s hand was firmly in her own.

He’s lost it.

Ishtar had been a menace and cursed him to begin with, so it wasn’t like she thought he was overreacting. It was simply that the goddess wasn’t here and there was no signs of her heading their way. There was no need for him to go this overboard with protecting her.

She made their trip at the store quick.

What’s more, she took the time to pull into the coffee shop again, watching Gilgamesh be all too happy to walk into the place and order their drinks.

“Hakuno,” Gilgamesh glanced down at her, motioning for her to come closer. “When we get home, I want to know what’s left in this wedding process.”

Of course, he did.

She sighed, welcoming her coffee and turning away.

They went home, curling up on the couch and looking at their research together again.

All the books and pages that Gilgamesh had been marking during the week were laid out across the table. The collection of texts and drawings were spread out, leaving them both to begin the process of preparation.

“I don’t think I’m drawing this right.”

Gilgamesh leaned over her, shrugging. “I don’t believe the drawings truly matter. It’s the magic and effort that needs to be done that matters.”

Right.

She tried to use a few bursts of magic here and there, but…

Was there something that they were missing?

Her attention went back to the books again, reviewing what she was seeing in the texts and comparing it to their other notes. With the reading and reviewing, she began to pace a little.

They’d managed to save Gilgamesh from being trapped in the body of a cat.

Time travel shouldn’t have been that impossible in comparison.

What was she missing?

Maybe blood?

There was a lot of mention of blood in these texts. Here, she’d figured the authors were just a little morbid for some reason but…

She glanced over at Gil, debating the thought.

“Hakuno,” Gilgamesh motioned her over, pulling her onto his lap when she came. “We’re going to attempt this once again.”

“It wasn’t working before.”

“I will allow you to borrow some of my energy for the process. Perhaps the problem isn’t what we’re doing, but to what amount of power we’re using.”

So…

Like a flashlight with only one good battery?

“Alright.”

They both focused this time, the king letting his own magic move. Strangely enough, there was something nice about his magic mingling with hers. It felt warm. The feel of his person pressed against her own was making her lean into him more. Her eyes closed and her focus was zoned in on the magic alone for a moment.

“…Gilgamesh!”

“My king!”

Hakuno opened her eyes, staring through the king’s Gates to see two figures looking back. The green haired person waved happily, running down from the large throne as the woman nearby lost her hood in her need to rush towards them.

“Enkidu! Siduri!” Gilgamesh laughed, hugging her closer as Hakuno tried to move out of the way. “Excellent! Then my plans have worked!”

“What are you doing there, my king?” the woman shook her head at him. “Come! Let’s get you-“

“I am marrying my woman here,” Gilgamesh told them, making them all pause.

“Oh?” The green haired person smirked. “What kingdom are you in?”

“One called Fuyuki. It is located outside of our realm. I will require preparations to be made in Uruk while I am here. Enkidu! Inform the advisors about my woman and begin the preparations of a collection of fabrics. My woman’s shape is similar to that of Siduri.”

His woman.

How the hell did he know Siduri’s shape, anyway?!

“Siduri,” Gilgamesh looked over at the woman. “As my attendant, I will require notices and-“

“I understand, my king.” Siduri informed him, bowing. “May I say, I believe your woman has a chest a bit more prominent than my own.”

“Make adjustments as you see fit.”

“Wait-“

Hakuno went to speak, but the two on the other side of the rip in space and time were already calling to others for things.

“When will you be coming here?” Enkidu asked.

“A month’s time,” Gilgamesh replied. “I have informed the humans here that I would permit them to see me claim Hakuno in this realm. Once we are done with that, I will bring her home with me.”

For a short time!

She opened her mouth before finding the being turning around.

“Siduri!” Enkidu laughed a bit. “Watch Uruk! I need to be there for this!”

They needed-

Hakuno found the being tumbling through their path, shocking her enough to close the path between their time and that of Uruk.

The being all but fell onto them. Their body smushing her against Gilgamesh’s own as they landed. Their laughter echoed with Gilgamesh’s own.

“Ah! It’s colder here,” the being told them.

“My friend,” Gilgamesh laughed, smacking the being ‘s back so loudly that it cracked. She was still stuck between their persons, finding herself smothered as the two spoke.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I have never been that easy to kill! However, Hakuno has provided assistance.”

“She’s lovely.”

“She makes fools for friends, but perhaps, with you here, I can finally disconnect her from that white haired pest.”

“Guys!” Hakuno squirmed between them.

“So we’re enjoying your wedding her to yourself?”

“In a month. During that time, you can enjoy this modern age with me. There’s a contraption that allows your hair to be dried after a bath. There’s also methods of collecting texts in smaller forms and sending information over various kingdoms without traveling an inch.”

“Oh?”

Gilgamesh motioned at the television. “There’s plays on the portrait too.”

“I need to see this-“

“GIL! ENKIDU!”

The two glanced down at her.

What the hell was she supposed to do with two of these guys hanging around her house? Gilgamesh she could explain. The man was supposed to be her fiancé. He’d explained how they’d met and everyone was unsuspecting.

But Enkidu-

“Since you are here, I need someone as my best man,” Gilgamesh told the being. “You will need to fulfill this task.”

“I suppose that’d be fine.” The being pulled her hair into their hands, playing with it idly. “What will I need to do for this?”

“Hakuno will fill you in. Let me grab something for us to drink while it’s explained.”

Why was she explaining this?!

The being ran their hands into her hair, leaning over her a little with a growing smile.

“…I um… Hello, Enkidu.”

“Hello, Hakuno. I see you’ve fallen for my king.”

“I am trying to get him home to you and Siduri.”

The being just hummed, hugging her a little. “Perhaps, but Gilgamesh is quite a stubborn being. I doubt there’s anything you can do to make him listen.”

“So, you know he’s stubborn?”

“Terribly.”

Thank-

The door was being pounded on.

I swear, if I live through this, I’m going to go life in the woods.

Hakuno could see her phone lighting up, Emiya calling her no doubt to make sure she was available.

“Hakuno-“

“Gil, make Enkidu inconspicuous!” Hakuno pushed the being the king’s way, hurrying to the door with her phone to her ear. “Emiya-“

“Hakuno!” Sakura was on the other end of the line. “Emiya and I came to check on G! We figured it might be nice to bring some cat food we found and Emiya needs help studying!”

Shit!

“They want to see G!” Hakuno hissed towards Gil.

“Open the door and let them in.”

Let them in?

SHE DIDN’T HAVE A CAT!

Gilgamesh looked at her panicking, the phone in her hand and laughed. The man moved forth, pulling the door open just in time for a fluffy golden cat to leap into her arms.

The green eyes looked up at her a moment before Sakura was cooing away.

“So the pest is doing better,” Emiya growled.

“You both are audacious, coming without being invited,” Gilgamesh countered. “Hakuno and I were just brushing G out and enjoying some research.”

“Gorgeous!” Sakura cooed to the cat. “I was so worried about you this week. I’m glad you’re well. You’ll need to come with Hakuno to school next week!”

The being, in cat form, meowed happily before cuddling against her.

She could already see Gil shooting the cat a warning look.

[ladynox]

Milestones (2/?)

Relationships: Malexa

Summary:  The stress of buying a home causes trouble in paradise.

Notes: A thousand hugs to my wonderful beta @beautifulcheat. You are the best!

Please read below or on AO3

Sighing, Maria shut her car door and locked it. Michael and Alex’s cars were in the driveway. So they were home.  She wondered if anything had been hashed out between them while she was doing inventory at the Pony. Somehow, she doubted it, and decided it was best to find Alex before confronting Michael. It was likely that Michael was in the house, which more than likely meant Alex was not. She walked around to the back of house.

When Maria walked onto the patio, Alex was sitting there with his beer and a laptop, barefoot, wearing an old Panic! t-shirt, his favorite grey joggers, and a sour expression. “He acts like a slave,” Alex grumbled by way of hello.

Through the glass of the sliding doors, Maria could see Michael carrying a load of laundry to the washing machine. Adamant though Michael was about giving his child everything, the financial process involved in buying a home stressed him the hell out. This level of stress would have sent the old Michael straight to the Pony looking for trouble. Now, Michael funneled his guilt and shame into extra shifts at the junkyard and doing more than his allotted chores around the house.

Rolling her eyes, Maria sat down in the patio chair next to Alex and wished she were holding a beer instead of a smoothie. “I think the word you’re looking for is neurotic housewife,” Maria replied. Their house was sparkling clean and Maria was fucking exhausted with it. “He feels bad because he can’t be a cosigner.”

Alex hummed and drank his beer, still glowering through the sliding door even though Michael had disappeared into the laundry room.

“Did you talk to him about this morning?” Maria asked.

“No.” Alex took a very long and frustrated pull from his beer bottle. Maria missed alcohol already. Being pregnant was stressful enough without buying a home, an anxious boyfriend, and his grumpy boyfriend on top of that.

That morning, Michael hadn’t accompanied them to the banks they’d chosen to apply for preapproval. After having a long and exhausting discussion about their collective finances, it was decided that Michael’s history would hurt their prospects. And even though Michael had understood that, had agreed to the logic of their plan, Alex’s spreadsheets still had been a hard blow from reality. He’d been sulky for a week before the appointments, leading to rather unpleasant confrontation that morning: “No, I’m not going,” Michael said in between sips of coffee. That in itself had been a surprise to Maria and Alex, who had been expecting him to come with them. Just because Michael wasn’t going to be on the title didn’t mean he shouldn’t be there throughout the whole process. “Don’t want them to smell poverty wafting off me and ruin your chances.” “What the hell, Guerin?” Alex demanded, angry but also unsurprised and… resigned. Maria understood, had felt the same way. This was a fight long overdue, but she was hurt nonetheless.

“That’s really un-fucking-fair!” Maria added, annoyed with herself for not mentioning it earlier (one didn’t need psychic abilities to know how stressed Michael has been) but also annoyed with Michael for bottling it up until he exploded. He’d been so good about not doing that, lately.

Michael ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That was shitty,” he admitted and looked up at them, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” “Yes you did.” Alex couldn’t let it go and Maria couldn’t blame him.

“Yeah you’re right,” Michael sighed. “I love and appreciate you both. This is about is my bullshit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Maria said, glancing at her watch. She didn’t want to be late for their appointment with the bank. She didn’t even want to be right on time. She wanted to be early.

She did kiss Michael’s temple when she got up let him know she accepted his apology. Alex had done the same before they left.

And now here they were sitting in the patio, stewing, while Michael stress cleaned the house.  Again.

Maria turned Alex’s laptop towards her so she could look at it. As expected, the spreadsheets for the Ranch Acquisition Project, as Alex called buying the house, were open. Once the decision had been made to buy the Smith ranch, Alex had gone full Type A. From researching credit unions and banks, to property taxes, to anything else one should know before buying a ranch, Alex Manes was on top of it.

“Are we going to tell him the loan officer thought we were married?” Maria asked. Alex laughed, which was what she was after. “I’m afraid he’d stick his head in the oven.”

“Alex.” Even as she swatted his arm, Maria laughed. “Well I made an appointment to view the Smith property for this weekend, so that’ll cheer him up. The realtor also wants to show us a couple more ranches for sale, and I agreed. Why not?” “Did you—” “Yes, I’ve already asked her for the addresses.” Maria rolled her eyes. Alex was so predictable. “She said she’d email them to me. I’ll forward it to you the minute I get it so you can start researching.” “Thanks,” Alex said, throwing his good leg across Maria’s thighs, and Maria took the opportunity to rub his calf, since he always carried a lot of tension there. “Roast will be ready in an hour do you want anything until then?” Michael asked, poking his head out to look at them. “For you to grab a beer and sit with us,” Alex said immediately. “Come on babe,” Maria said when Michael looked like he was about protest. “That thing will cook itself and I know you’ve done everything on the chore list.” Maria arched an eyebrow at him and Michael flushed.   “Okay. Let me grab a beer.” He disappeared into the house and some of the tension leaves Alex’ shoulders. Maria wanted to remind Alex to relax, that sometimes it’s best to let Michael be, tire himself out. Wanted to remind him that Michael was always his own worst enemy. But she wasn’t responsible for their relationship. Michael sat down and fiddled with the label on the beer. Maria sipped her smoothie and Alex his beer. Finally, Michael sighed, “I’m so sorry again for this morning.” Maria met Alex’s eyes before they looked at Michael who was looking them both anxiously. Neither of them said anything and Maria is glad she and her best friend are on the same page. “I know it’s no excuse for being an asshole,” Michael was forced to continue. “Especially when you guys are being so amazing—” “Michael, you know I don’t like this burden talk,” Maria interrupted. This conversation was like a well-worn path.

Michael exhaled, annoyed with himself. “I hate that my name’s not going to be on the title,” Michael admitted, finally. “I know it doesn’t mean shit. I know that it’s just like how we’re married even if it’s not legal, I still hate it. I hate it because it reminds me of all the stupid ass decisions I made because I was a fucked up, angry kid. I’m angry at myself and I lashed out and I’m sorry.” That was a lot of feelings at once, Maria had to admit. So neither of them said anything until Michael gulped down his beer. It gave them all a little time to process.

“Just a poor mental health day,” Michael added afterward, echoing Alex. Only unlike Alex, Michael refuses a therapist, citing his extraterrestrial secrets as reason to not go.  

While Maria was still figuring out how best to express her thoughts, Alex took Michael’s hand and kissed his knuckles, then rested his cheek against them, looking at Michael, who smiled beatifically in response. It was silly, especially because hasn’t always done them well, but sometimes Maria couldn’t help but be a little jealous at how good they are at nonverbal communications. Well without the use of psychic abilities. “Hey, I’m sorry too,” Maria said. Michael was about to protest but Maria didn’t let him, barreling through. “I should have—” “We should have,” Alex succeeded in interrupting her and piggybacking off what she was about to say. The lazy bastard.

“We should have talked about it more than we did,” Maria was finally allowed to finish. “Nah—No really. It’s fine. This plan makes sense.” Michael reached out for her with his free hand. She grabbed it. Squeezed it. “Let’s not swap blame around ok?” “Ok,” Maria agreed. “But I’m still going to check in on you more often. Alex too.” Maria was not doing all the emotional labor, damnit. “Me too,” Alex agreed. “But, Michael, please, just say how you feel sooner. All this cooking and cleaning—” “I’m not going to stop,” Michael flat out said and glared at them because they were about to protest. “Yes part of it is this transactional issue but keeping busy also helps keep my mind off of it.” Maria reminded herself that the fact that he can admit that now is a huge victory for him, and a result of all the hard work he had done on himself before and after they started dating.  “Can’t just sit around playing the guitar all day.”

Michael slouched back in his chair, fiddled with the empty beer bottle. “But yeah, I know I should have said something earlier. Thing is… we’ve been so happy and I didn’t want to ruin the mood with my bullshit.”

“Baby, buying property is stressful as hell,” Maria said. “And I can’t even drink this time around. So – I for one would be totally down for a bitch fest anytime.”

Ah, there was that smile she liked so much. Michael sat up and leaned forward, kissing her, gratitude coming off him in waves.

--

“Sorry I’m late,” Michael said as Maria, freshly showered and energized after an hour at the gym, slipped into the passenger side of his truck. “I couldn’t find my sweater.”

Michael was giving her a reproachful look. So Maria looked at what he was wearing—a maroon knitted sweater with a couple of brass colored buttons at the collar. She loved the color on him and how soft it made him look. She also knew exactly where he must have found it.  

“It was cold a couple days ago!” Maria explained, defensively. “Right.” Michael started the engine. “I also found the cardigan Alex got me for Christmas and a pair of jeans in your closet, Maria. Those aren’t even my jeans!” “Excuse you!” Maria huffed. “They’re Alex’s.” “I know they’re Alex’s, you gremlin!” Michael shot back. No heat. This was a well-worn argument. Now he was going to mention her abundance of clothes. “You have a ton of clothes!” And compare himself to a prospector. “But I’m still excavating men’s clothing in that pit of yours!” Oh this time he decided to make fun of how she keeps her room.

“You have plenty of clothes now. You’re not going to miss one sweater.”

“And a cardigan.” “And a cardigan.” “And likely that pack of t-shirts’ I’ve been trying to find.” “No, that’s not me. You haven’t worn them yet. I don’t want them until you’ve worn them.” It wasn’t just about style, though she did enjoy mixing and matching women and men’s clothes. It was about Michael’s scent—petrichor and motor oil—when he was out working late or sleeping with Alex that night. It was about the comfort of the heavy weight of his cardigan around her shoulders when work is extra frustrating.

“Can’t say I don’t appreciate the honesty,” Michael said dryly. Though she could tell he was trying not to flush. He still had a really hard time accepting any kind of compliments.

Michael turned onto the road that lead to the hospital. “How was the workout, babe?” “Good,” Maria replied. “Lisa and I are still working on a modified training program for the pregnancy. But for now, I still feel comfortable doing what I normally do.” Maria had started doing more resistance training in addition to yoga and cardio about a year and half ago because she’d read that it was good for osteoporosis, and she’d gotten addicted, gotten a trainer, and now she used weights she wouldn’t have dreamed of touching before.

“Oh good because Alex is going to chuck his dresser and it’s heavy so—” Maria laughed. “You can move stuff with your brain you lazy shit.”

“Yeah but benefits of dating She-Hulk is that I don’t have too.” Maria rolled her eyes, swatting his arm with her hand. He laughed and parked.

“I see you’ve been watching cartoons with Alex again.” Alex, being the huge nerd he is, had recently downloaded all the old 90s Marvel cartoons he and Greg use to watch as kids together.  

“Yeah they’re kind of stupid to be honest,” Michael said and shrugged. “But he really likes them. And I’ve gotten to hear a lot of stories from when he was a kid. Like how he and Greg use to spend hours at the library going through their catalogue of X-Men comics and quizzing each other’s esoteric comic book knowledge.”

“Such a nerd,” Maria laughed.

“I knew what I was getting into when I married him.”

Once they were out of the truck, Michael took her hand and together they walked into the hospital. They were there to see Kyle for her first doctor’s appointment since confirming the pregnancy. Thankfully Maria was more human than alien, so the doctors never noticed anything strange when Mimi was pregnant. But this time around, the father was full alien. The change in percentage was enough to make everyone angsty and Kyle was recruited as OBGYN despite reminding everyone that he was a vascular surgeon. “I’m sorry for putting this on you, Kyle,” Maria said during brunch with Team Human. Maria had just broken the news about the pregnancy. “I know we ask so much from you as it is but if this kid comes out with glowing organs or something—”

“Hey. Hey,” Kyle said, squeezing her hand. “I got your back. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry Kyle. I’ll help.” Liz clapped her hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not an obstetrician either, Liz.” Kyle huffed, exasperated. “You’re not even a medical doctor! You’re a mad scientist.” He added when he caught the speculative gleam in Liz’s eyes as she looked at Maria’s flat belly. Liz, at least, had the good sense to look a little ashamed when Maria arched an eyebrow at her. Just a little ashamed though. This was Liz they were talking about here.

As Kyle and Liz continued to bicker, Maria was suddenly glad for her friends. Sure, unlike her mom, she had Michael and Alex. She wasn’t alone. But Michael and Alex were her life partners and those weren’t the same as friends.

--

The ultrasound gel was cold on her belly. She shivered a little, causing Michael to lean closer to her, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. He was radiating nervousness and fear as much he usually radiated heat. Maria tilted her head away from what Kyle was doing to look at Michael, his plush bottom lip caught in between his teeth, honey brown eyes focused intently on the screen as Kyle points out her bladder, the amniotic fluid and then her uterus.

“Okay there’s the baby,” Kyle said, pointing to a greyish blob surrounded by darkness. “This is the beginnings of an arm. Here’s the head.” Maria found it hard to imagine that that was going to be a person, her child. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see little nodes that would one day be limbs. She couldn’t even really see much of a head. It was just all one amorphous lump, like a tiny soft grey turd, she thought unkindly, and wondered if there was something wrong with her. Did Mimi DeLuca look at fetus Maria and compare her to a turd?

No matter how hard she looked she couldn’t see what Kyle was pointing out. It looked like a little grey turd, she thought unkindly, and wondered if there was something wrong with her. Did Mimi DeLuca look at fetus Maria and compare her to a turd?

Maria forced herself to focus on what Kyle was saying. Healthy. She was relieved to hear that the baby’s development was good for this stage (whatever that means for a mostly alien baby). Maria could feel Michael really breathe for the first time since they walked into the room. He’d been fine until they stepped inside the hospital. After that he had started bouncing his leg in the waiting room and broadcasting worry to any psychic within a twenty-mile radius.

Maria hadn’t addressed it. Instead she let him hold her close even if it made texting difficult with all the jiggling.  Maria understood the sudden shift in him. Reality had hit Michael in the waiting room, even though the pregnancy still felt unreal to Maria. It still felt more like a happy dream or a fantasy. No matter the blood test confirming it or the very real stress and drama of buying the ranch, it still felt like she was lying in the back of Michael’s Chevy wistfully sharing What ifs about their future. What if we moved in together? What if we had children? Maybe foster? What if it was ours?

“Judging by the size, it’s about 8 weeks old…”  Kyle paused to calculate. “So that puts the due date close to September.”

“September.” Michael smiled and kissed Maria’s temple. “Is that even enough time…” Michael flushed, aware instantly that was a dumb thing to say. It was cute as hell though. “I mean…” “Eviction notice is already up, babe,” Maria chuckled, squeezing his hand. Michael pressed a kiss into her hair, chuckling. His whole aura had changed. Warm and happy, excited, and so hopeful. Maria pulled his hand to her lips, kissed his knuckles.

“We’re almost done,” Kyle said and checked her ovaries on the ultrasound. He took some screenshots of those and then some screenshots of the fetus. “Last thing. Just need to measure the heartbeat.” Kyle clicked something on the ultrasound machine and the room was filled with her baby’s heartbeat. For a moment, Maria forgot to breathe, transfixed by the mechanically distorted thwump thwump of the tiny life growing inside her.

This is really happening, Maria thought, looking at that little grey blob on the screen. It was still as grey and shapeless as before, but beneath her child was a graphic of their little heartbeat. Moving so fast. But it was the sound that overwhelmed her. Made her heart feel like it was swelling in her chest. Her eyes began to mist. “180 bpm,” she heard Kyle say over the rhythm of her baby’s life. Kyle smiled at the both of them. “That’s within normal limits.”

Maria’s laugh was watery and shaky. She looked at Michael who looked close to tears himself. His eyes shiny and full of love as he looked down at her. She sat up, reached for him and he came to her easily. They kissed – and she was sure it tasted like tears because she was crying now. Not sobbing. But the tears were flowing because she was so overwhelmed with wonder and love and so much happiness. Those feelings had to come out somehow.   This was really happening. Really, really happening. All those things she thought she’d never have—a life, a love of that life, a family…that little bit of life and love growing inside her—it was real.

Maria was going to be a mom. Michael sat down next to her, gathered her up in his arms and held her tight. She heard Kyle say something as the door opened and closed behind him. She didn’t know what he said. All she could focus on was the smell of rain and warmth of Michael’s embrace, and the softness of his lips on her tear damp cheeks. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Maria confided. “Never in my wildest dreams…” Michael kissed her again. Slowly. Sweetly. His forehead resting on hers after. “I know.” There was wonder in his voice too. But also joy, amazement, and that same disbelief that she felt.  “I know.” His eyes were bright with emotion and there was nothing sharp about his smile. Maria was sure she’d never seen him quite so hopeful.

Lord, Michael was so beautiful. “I love you so much,” Michael murmured against her mouth after another kiss. “And I love this baby. And I love that I get to start a family with you and Alex. And never in my wildest dreams…” Michael started to laugh because Maria was pulling him into another kiss, a little deeper this time. Maria opened herself up psychically to him, because she needed Michael to feel in this moment how much she loved him. How happy she was. That it wasn’t just Michael who couldn’t believe his luck. Everything she was feeling. Everything she was too overwhelmed to say out loud, she laid bare for him.

Michael pulled her impossibly closer, pressed his face into her neck like he wanted to graft himself to Maria, who felt so warm in his arms, still wrapped up in the flow of his emotions. She knew that Michael had never minded the few times she’s done this before.  He was more comfortable with it than even she was and more eager to try it with her. She had noticed that it was easier for him to communicate his feelings nonverbally.

But also, she suspected, it made it easier for him to accept her feelings and be less defensive about them when he was presented with the raw essence of them. Which is probably why she insisted on verbal communication. She found raw feelings to be kind of overwhelming. Even now, happy as she was, wrapped up in both their love and happiness it was edging on a lot. So she eased back a little. “I’m going to make you so happy.” “You already have, dummy.” “I was talking to the baby.”

“Idiot.”

[rivkahstudies]

do you have any advice for a high school senior who wants to make the most of their last year of high school? asking for a friend :)

hi darling! I think the things I remember most from my senior year (though it was only two years ago that it started) can be summarized in, “crazy busy, crazy stressful, but at times, crazy fun.” Here’s to making the most of it, and maintaining health while you do so!

This is going to be combination masterpost and advice post, because I’ve accumulated a lot on this subject and I have a loooot to say. 

Also this is heavily based off of the assumption you’re pursuing higher education, but some of these things still apply/can be tweaked.

table of contents:

i. academics

ii. social life

iii. personal health

i. 𝓪𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓼

a. grades

They’re important for your future if your plan is to go to college or academy, but they’re not the whole world. (see social life and personal health)

I’m not a big fan of the “3-to-1 rule” or other such things that tell you “study for this amount of time no matter what” because it’s important for you to understand what comes naturally to you and what you need further clarification on. Some classes are going to take up less of your time than others.

The best you can do on a given day isn’t necessarily 100%. Sometimes your best that day is 90%, 80%, 60%. “try your best” isn’t “your best ever” so don’t push yourself for 100s every time for the expense of categories ii and iii.

A lot of people (at least in places like where I went to high school) who are hung up on the stress of competition and the need to be The Best™ are going to ask you for grades. It’s going to be everywhere. Assignment grades, test grades, SATs, ACTs, (if you’re not in the US, the equivalents of your state, regional, or national standardized tests), entrance exams, et cetera, et cetera. I know it’s tempting to fall into the anxiety of whether you measure up, but here’s a quick tip: even if you think you did well/above average, you can keep it private. It infuriated my classmates when I wouldn’t share, because I was comfortable with how I competed with myself and didn’t care what my peers thought of my scores. 

When you’re someone as dedicated to studying as I am, you might get a lot of “oh, you got that grade because you’re you” (the underlying implication being that it’s natural or the work is easy for you, which was not the case for me) or “ha! I got higher than (name)! I measure up!” This is a lot of their own biases and insecurity talking and the best way not to be affected is not to buy into it. Again, this is based on my own experience.

 I really cannot emphasize extra credit enough because some of my teachers threw it around like candy and some of them barely drizzled a little in at intervals, but either way it really saved me when it came to rounding my grades up.

It never hurts to have a grade tracker if you’re concerned, you don’t get graded by total points accumulation/have a weighted system, and/or don’t have an easy way to access your grades online throughout the year.

find your study strategy/ies for each class and stick to it/them. It won’t necessarily be the same. I’m a primarily visual learner, and it really, really helps for most things, but I still need rote memorization for subjects with a lot of vocabulary, like medicine or languages.

further resources

studying without notes by @fuckstudy . 

prioritizing that crazy to do list (the abcde method) by @eintsein

a comphrensive guide to anki (flashcards online) by @studyingstudent

a stash of tiny study tips by @acalmstudiousfirecracker

and much much more on my #studyref tag.

b. extracurriculars

These I think matter (though I’m biased) more than grades, because they’re what shape you and your experience. Most of the students at my university had grades like mine, but it’s the places I frequented and the people to whom I devoted my time that formed my sense of self. I have so many skills, anecdotes, and ideas that I’ve gained from my extracurricular work.

If you have any you’ve stuck with since early in high school and you still like, keep ‘em. Quality over quantity. Show jobs or universities you can be dedicated and disciplined, and have stamina to see projects to the end. (I was in 7 and held leadership positions in 4 and it was probably part of the reason why I spent all of senior year on three hours sleep… besides my IB classes of course.)

If you’re not pursuing college immediately or at all (or even if you are), participate in ones that pull you out of your comfort zone and teach you something new.

ii. 𝓼𝓸𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮

Treat this category as you would anything else in your schedule–requiring time and being a significant priority. Not always at the very top, but still demanding its own attention.

See friends outside of school, for however long or short a period, at least once every week to two weeks. This can include extracurricular time if you’re pressed.

Schedule time with your family (especially if their lives are also cluttered and hectic) do something dynamic, and also something separate that’s relaxing. One week your family time might be reading in the same room and having gentle conversation or a family dinner; the next might be going out to the movies or taking a hike together. It can be easy to feel taken for granted or to take family for granted.

By the way, this includes “chosen” family if you’re not on great terms with some/all of them. I have experience with this too.

Get. Out. Of. The. House. This plays into “personal health” too! You need a change in rhythm/routine and exposure to the outside. Especially in your winter season. 

I’m one of those people who has to have things scheduled way in advance, so family/curfew/etc permitting, do something a little bit spontaneous, say with only a few hours or a couple days notice. It will make you feel more alive if you’re in a stressful slump.

Communication is really important, especially if you’re stressed. Don’t be afraid to tell people “I am sensitive/hyperreactive to X because Y is putting me on edge right now” or “this triggers X insecurity because I’m anxious about Y.” This goes doubly if you’re struggling with mental illness. Talk to someone you trust. (See “personal health.”)

Don’t give in to peer pressure if you’re spent the time you need with friends and have to excuse yourself for other responsibilities. Balance!

No is equally as important to respected as Yes, no matter what the case.

Respect boundaries but invite people to challenge their comfort zone at their space.

Don’t be broken up if a romantic relationship doesn’t last. It’s senior year. Everything’s changing. Let it.

Also, please don’t be like me and let your summer/your school year be eaten up with relationship drama. I thankfully ended a difficult relationship early (late September) so it wasn’t a huge issue, but I watched people close to me struggle with while also battling the stress of the year.

iii. 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓱

mentally

If you’re struggling with mental illness, be aware of your own limits and pace yourself.

Sometimes we feel dull because we need to break routine/stimulate ourselves in a new way. You should have a structure/routine, but it should be flexible enough for you to adapt to changes and listen to what your mind and body are telling you.

The path to self-love must first begin with self-acceptance. If you struggle with self-image or self-esteem issues, you can’t build positivity off a foundation of negativity. You must first level it to neutrality.

Perform check-ups with yourself. This may be in the form of meditation, a diary, therapy, etc. None of these things are a “last resort” but rather a healthy part of building good mental habits.

physically

Exercise! You don’t have to be a star athlete to bring about the benefits. Even a 15 minute jog, 30 minute walk/hike, or 10 minutes of stretching can give you benefits.

On that note! Take! Frequent! Breaks! And please, please google stretches for certain body parts like hands if you do repetitive motion like drawing or writing for a long period of time! You don’t want to push yourself!

Listen to your body and don’t ignore pain, hunger, nausea, fatigue, etc. Respond patiently and with what’s appropriate.

Don’t forget about diet. It’s easy when you’re busy to reach for the quick and nutritionally poor snacks/meals, but it’s really important to set aside time to cook/meal plan or even just throw together a quick snack tray of fruits/crackers/cheeses/etc. It doesn’t have to be instragrammable but you should have a balanced diet that factors in your specific needs, if you have any restrictions, etc.

Change yo pillow case frequently kids, it does wonders for acne.

I cannot stress enough! To! Stay! Hydrated! My goal is eventually eight glasses a day but my minimum is 4-5. I try to have one every meal, especially in college.

Bedtime is important! But more than that, wake up time is important. If you’re trying to adjust your schedule and can only keep one consistent, choose the time you wake up. Eventually your body will naturally become fatigued for the bedtime to match it. It’s how I turned my sleep schedule from 12:00 AM to 8:00 into 9:30 PM to 5:30 AM over the course of one winter break! 

If you’re a morning person, you’re a morning person. If you’re a night owl, you’re a night owl. There’s research now to prove that forcing yourself into a rhythm too extreme for your tendencies can make you feel awful either way.

At the end of the day, you’ve got one goal and one goal only: to look back on this year and be proud of what you’ve achieved and how you’ve grown. You shape your future and choose what matters most in your life!

If there’s anything else you think I’ve missed or you’d like me to cover more in depth/link more posts to, please ask me! I’d be happy to clarify/continue this series! I want to make sure you’re completely satisfied.

[camandsee]

Vingt-cinq, selon ma faveur

Hello!

Today, I turned twenty-five years old. Unlike the excitement and fun brought by the years that have long and previously gone by, turning 25 didn’t wake me up with people singing happy birthday, cake/s in a box, or ended the day with many, many photographs with families and long time friends. This year was different. I celebrated my day with my family (virtually, due to the quarantine) filled with a different kind of excitement that tells me that today marks the day when I finish the first quarter of my life and I embark on the last few years of my prime years. And just like any years, months, days, and seconds that went by, I can no longer go back and undo anything from the past 25 years. I felt that the next quarter of my life was mostly determined by my first quarter and the following, the preceding. No matter where I looked, I felt responsible for every new day that I’ll wake up to--responsible for making each day count towards who I’m going to be when I turn 26, then later 30. 

Turning 18 felt like yesterday. I remember being so young and wild and wishing that I was 21 so I could buy my own alcohol. When I turned 21, things felt very exciting! I was so eager to take on so many things, and I was very aggressive with chasing my goals and dreams. I was relentless, fearless, and excited by the things that I wanted to accomplish for that year! Life was filled with colors. I made a lot of friends I spent a lot of time with, even more than I did with my family. I spent the past years between being 18 and 24 celebrating New Years, Christmases, and Thanksgiving Days in ways I’ve never done before, and avoiding doing the same things twice even in different holidays. I traveled solo internationally for a month, then with my brother the next year. I learned so many things that I only wished I could learn when I was back in our country. I did great in school, and I was able to buy things I didn’t think I would afford before I was 18. It was the time of my life. I had so much fun, and I am filled with gratitude to my younger self for being so fearless and for being passionate about living life to the fullest and for teaching me the wonder of lifelong curiosity and the value of pursuing the things that ignited my heart and soul and of keeping track and really putting in every effort you can to conquer those.

Today, I woke up feeling like a child, when, ironic as it may sound, I am obviously not anymore. Being a fan of holidays and birthdays, I was eager to mark this day doing things that I want to do for the day. So, with my sophisticated taste for fine food, I whipped myself up an enhanced version of Truffle Pappardelle from scratch, inspired by the high-end restaurant in NYC, Scalinatella. I also baked myself a layered Tres Leches cake, with 3 candles and decorative lettering. I wrote a few things about how I want the next years of my life to be, the things I dream of having in the future (because I think that’s where they belong), and just a few other things that I did not want to forget. Right, a checklist is the key to success. At dinner, I had a little toast with my family, after being in a few conference calls with friends, and responding to over a hundred greetings online. I felt very happy with how the day turned out. It outdid my expectations and goals. One thing for sure is that I truly appreciate the people who remembered me, not just due to online reminders, but those who had me in their minds as this month commenced. Their warm wishes alone already made my day, and I did not need the rare and extravagant truffle (no way, I love that truffle pasta! It was to die for, FYI! ) to make myself feel like a million bucks!

In any case, no amount of Truffle Pappardelle could prepare me for the following years, let alone the following day, Monday. I am happy to announce that I recently accepted a high-caliber Ph.D. training offer from a 2-year program at my university, and an undergraduate position at a Biomedical Research Facility focusing on Neuroimmunology. I am incredulous and filled with excitement as I embark on this journey that will dictate and control many aspects of my career and my future. This entire journey, like many journeys I’ve taken prior, is a crucial step in molding my chosen path -- Ph.D. graduate school. As daunting as it sounds, I chose to take the 5th year to dedicate the year after graduation acquiring lab training and conducting research at a well-funded facility, with a well-known program. At this age, resume matters more than the year of graduation. So I do not feel any regrets about my decision, especially that it’s been widely supported by people and respected people whose opinions matter a lot to me. Right, Monday. Tomorrow is my second week at the lab, and we start with piles of scientific publications about the ongoing pandemic -- COVID-19-- which, by the way, I had to read while baking. Notice, I do not put much attention to how I write, unlike I used to back in the days. It is mostly just because I learned that it is better to get to write what your heart desires, then your mind would probably take care of the details later (if that ever comes). Yeah, I’ve learned to embrace spontaneity in things I used to want perfection in. I learned that my spontaneity in other things may be helpful in other things, but that doesn’t mean that I do not want to ever make this entry a bit more flowery.

Look, you know what really matters? What matters to me is that I am alive and healthy, I look forward to so many wonderful and exciting things for my future, my family love and support me, I have real friends I could count on, and I am in a place that I never even dreamed of being in. I do not regret the decisions that I made in the past (good and bad) after thinking long and hard and really considering their consequences, or not thinking about them at all, because those decisions brought me to where I am today. I am in a 4-bedroom apartment all to myself fully paid by my school, with dining money provided by my school. I am safe during this trying time, I make a lot of effort in raising my awareness and keeping myself healthy (mentally, physically, and emotionally), and I am true to everything I say and do. I do not regret anything that I have done in the far and recent past, and when I am fifty I will not look back on any day that I will regret because that is who I am, I make each day count, and any shortcomings I have, I always try to find ways to make it better, especially when making things better is what benefits me and what would benefit my loved ones in the future. I’ve done many things alone, without much support, and now that I am receiving a lot of support, I take all these as an advantage to get myself to where I need to be.

Run with the big dogs, love yourself, love your people, love living, and pour your heart over what sets it on fire, dear self. You were born to live life and pursue what you truly desire without limitations, so don’t create one.

Cheers to twenty-five and so,

Dorothy