#I thought his ability was just reviving him if the damage wasn’t ya know. THAT BAD.

[pinkisacreativecolour]

BSD MANGA SPOLIERS CHAPTER 114 LEAKS

What the fuck do you mean we got that heat wrenching shit with Nikolai and his visceral fucking grief and confusion with Fyodor and his death and his feeling and that entire scene with the whole ‘god has forsaken me’ shit for FYODOR TO BE FUCKING. I DONT EVEN KNOW. HOW THE SHIT IS THAT NOT FYODOR’S CORPSE IN THAT HELICOPTER. Asagiri you better give us a proper explanation and then actually kill someone you better fucking do it. Also tell us what the FUCK. Higuchi’s ability is. And where literally everyone is. It’s been actual years since we’ve seen major characters what the fuck

[bkgwrites]

Chapter 1: Left Behind

RUN

That’s all your mind could think. Run. You couldn’t slow down, or they would get you. Your body was straining though as you had to carry Bakugou’s full body weight. He was knocked unconscious from the pain he was experiencing from his wounds.

Bakugou wasn’t the only reason that your legs were about to give out as you had to carry both your pack’s that were strapped to your suits for emergencies like these. The wound you were sporting wasn’t helping your case either. But you wouldn’t let this faze you, even if you felt like your body was about to drop. You kept running. Away from the creatures that had taken over the Earth. The ones you were trained to survive among and kill. The creatures that killed your mother in front of your very eyes.

You wouldn’t stop running because the creatures would never have to satisfaction of ripping you apart and eating you as if you were the last meal on the Earth. You didn’t want to feel that pain, so you ran with everything you had even if you felt like you couldn’t run anymore.

Stopping at a far enough distance from the destroyed headquarters of U.A. The organization that taught you every survival skill you know. U.A was designed for teenagers ages 17-20 to train to be able to revive Earth back for the human species. Not to mention, only teenagers lived on Earth while everyone else from babies, children, adults, and elders were residing on Mars currently. With the damage done to Earth’s condition, the government and NASA made a plan to put citizens on Mars since it was the next best-suited planet for humans. So, the year when signs of the Earth becoming too dangerous for the human race, many were sent to live on Mars and fix it for human usage. Now, only those that worked in and were apart of U.A were left on Earth. Those left were accustomed to weapons like daggers, spears, blades, bow and arrows, and even guns. All these weapons were customized to be able to kill dinosauric type creatures and the very ones that murdered your mother.

You were first recruited for this organization when you were 16 years old. After your mother had passed, you wanted revenge against the very creature that killed her. You signed up for U.A knowing that 17 was the age for starting but you didn’t care. Aizawa, your mother’s friend, was able to convince the court that you could train with those of the desired age. Aizawa even trained you himself to help you gain the knowledge and practice that you needed to stay on the same level as those older than you.

The class you were set to was class 1A. Full of 17–18-year old’s that all wanted to help Earth be for the human race again. As the youngest, you were treated as the baby of the class though you had more muscle and experience than some.

You thought back to this morning when the attack had begun.

---

It was another day where you were staring at the sky above walking to class. You felt off but thought nothing of it as you had become someone that even though being sarcastic, you were sturdy and immune to emotions other than anger. As you made it inside you still could feel that feeling though, you felt unease.... like something was coming.

“Y/N” Mina, one of your best friends, screamed across the hall, knocking you out of your funk. “What did I tell you about screaming in the morning Mina,” you smirked. Mina was always one of the few people that you got along with in the class. She never failed to make you snort at something she said. “Well you know I said your name 3 times earlier, but you were stuck in that mind of yours. So what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just feel off today. I don’t know, I feel like something is coming and I don’t know what.” You normally weren’t nervous when at school, but something in your gut was telling you that you were in danger.

“Well everything seems fine so it's ok! So come on, we gotta get to class ya know before Sensei kills us.” You both dash to get into class as you only had 2 minutes before training began. Mina and you make it in just a nick of time.

“WE ARE HERE” Mina screams. “Just go sit down,” Aizawa says to you both. You shake your head walking to your seat. As you sit down, Kirishima turns to smile at you.

“Good morning Y/n! Ready for training today?”

“Totally, I’m ready to kick your ass again” you snicker.

“Awww… man come on. You know you're super manly, I mean you have better abs than me and Bakugou.”

“NO SHE DOESN’T SHITTY HAIR! I HAVE WAY BETTER ABS” Bakugou screams while pulling up his shirt.

“Whatever you say Dandelion,” you roll your eyes, seemingly aiming at the state of his spiky hair. Bakugou was one of the people in the class that you couldn’t stand. He seemed to always be competing with you because he wanted to prove he was better than you since you were one of the top students in training. He was an arrogant son of a bitch that would try to upset you and bother you every second of the day. You despised him, I mean he was almost at the level of hatred you had for the creatures that killed your mother, but you never let him get under your skin. You were better than him and you proved it every day in training.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME” he screamed.

“Bakugou scream at me one more goddam-”

“Bakugou and Y/n, be quiet before you are assigned extra training. Now class go change into your suits so training can begin.” Aizawa said, tuning down the argument that sure was about to happen between you too.

---

Heading out from the locker room, everyone wore the same suit. These suits were molded to fit anyone perfectly and even designed to work with the environment that the Earth had turned too. They even helped the female anatomy considering it would be hard for girls to have their periods during an apocalypse like this. It makes sense as technology really advanced right before and even after the world was taken over.

The suits were customized to any environmental situation, like when the seasons changed, the suit is able to camouflage itself with it. Not only that, but the suit worked with that season, with winter, suits were able to change to match the snow and also change your overall body temperature. Heating you up when the weather is too much for your human body, as the temperature could get so low that frostbite and hypothermia could click within your body in a second; these dangerous temperatures appeared when the Earth changed.

With the suit being able to shift your atoms for body temperature, it also could change your atoms in order to help you survive. With female suits, it was able to change atoms within the body to stop the flow of the menstrual cycle. The suit has its limitations though as that ability only works when the suit remains on.

---

“Everyone you will be assigned partners for training today. I will put you in pairs that normally do not work together. You need to be able to work with and around each other. I want you sparing with everything you got against one another” Aizawa mentions to the class.

“Starting with…. Ashido with Shinso, Kaminari with Tokoyami, Kirishima with Shoji, Hagakure with Yaoyorzu….”

“Y/n with Bakugou”

“WHAT!!!” you both screamed, one in anger and another in confusion. You couldn’t understand why he would put you with Bakugou. I mean it is kind of understandable since you both dislike each other and always bicker. The thing is though, you both were good at the same things. Though in class it seemed you still were always winning against him, either it be in archery class or sword fighting.

“I don’t want to fight this weak bitch” Bakugou screamed to Mr. Aizawa.

“Oh shut the fuck up Dandelion. I’ve beaten you in every class. Who’s the weak bitch now” you smirked from across the room, trying to provoke him.

Bakugou began growling, “SHUT UP WOMAN! You only won because you cheated!”

“Babe, you can’t cheat in training” you laughed out.

Bakugou was about to begin screaming when he paused, beginning to acknowledge the pet name you just said which had his cheeks heat up to a light blush. You were confused why he didn’t scream back but didn’t pay attention to it turning back to finish listening to what Aizawa was saying.

Once Mr. Aizawa finished, you made your way to Bakugou. You two were going to be the second group to spar as Uraraka and Deku were fighting first. However, the round seemed to end a little quicker than expected when Uraraka was able to sweep Deku off his feet with a quick foot attack and shove his side with her dagger not actually penetrating it into his skin.

Coming up to the mat, you and Bakugou took to your defensive positions ready to battle against one another.

“YOU READY TO FUCKING DIE” Bakugou shouted in your direction.

The irony behind his words came in just a blink of an eye as the emergency alarms began to blare.

“EVERYONE GET READY TO ABOARD THE EMERGENCY SHIP TO MARS IMMEDIATELY!” Mr. Aizawa yelled to the class as everyone began to head in its direction.

You and Bakugou looked at each other for a split second with fearful but determined eyes and took off.

Mina ran in your direction. “Y/n I’m so scared, what if we don’t make it in time?” she said with tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

“Don’t be scared! We’ve been training our whole lives for this and you know I’ll protect you no matter what!” and just as you finished saying that. A piercing scream came from the end of the hallway you were running away from.

You turned your head to see one of the 1b students, Monoma, getting his arm torn off from the jaws of the creature. It was a horrific sight and there was nothing you could do for him as the creature began to tear his head from his throat. You couldn’t help but want to throw up as blood began to run down from the neck of his body and the creature’s mouth. You had to just keep running.

---

As those who hadn’t been brutally mutilated by the creatures made it to the ship, they began filing onto it in a rush. Students were boarded on after the teachers even with the larger number of students. The ship was the size of a high school as even with most of the human population living on Mars, there were still around 517 students and 30 teachers that remained on Earth.

The creatures were dangerously getting closer to the ship and that made the students around you panic. Forcing the crowd to cram into the ship without the care of trampling over one another. It was better than getting murdered by these creatures. And even with wanting to cram into the ship as well, you needed to protect the other students. Bakugou seemed to have the same thought as he began fighting a creature that was closing in.

You ran over to help him with the shaft that you had situated in your hand knowing it was the best weapon against it.

Looking over to your right, Mina and Kirishima began shooting their guns at the creatures, which were filled with poisonous bullets that could kill something or someone in 15 seconds when it set into the bloodstream. Then looking over to your right you couldn’t help but gasp as Sato was screaming out in agony as his legs were getting crushed within the mouth of the creature. Soon to be eaten completely.

Turning back to look at the ship, you realized mostly everyone was on the ship only leaving a good 16 of you on the ground. As 10 of those students began to rush on the ship as well you heard a grunt beside you.

With a quick head turn, you see Bakugou almost getting his arm eaten off and ran to protect him. You quickly flipped over the creature’s head and slashed it off with ease before his arm was eaten.

“I HAD IT HANDLED!” Bakugou yelled at you with scratches on his arms that seeped blood into his suit. You ignored him and ran over to kill the creature approaching behind him. Though this creature seemed smarter than the one before. Right before you could stab it in the eye with your shaft, it snagged at your face. Making you scream in agony as it slashed a mark across your face almost getting its claw into your eye. Gratefully though it didn’t take your eye out, but instead you had blood dripping down from the claw mark going down from your forehead to your jaw.

Bakugou quickly jumped in action killing the creature even with aching arms and running to help you.

“Y/N! Shit! That’s a lot of fucking blood” he mumbled in panic but quickly got into action trying to take you to the ship as you run holding your face. Everyone seemed to have boarded the ship by now as 2 other creatures were coming towards it.

“BAKUGO LETS GO NOW!” Kirishima screamed from the top of the ramp as the ramp began to close. You and Bakugou had about a mile until you would make it to the ship. You and him both ran with everything you had as the ship began to count down.

“1 MINUTE UNTIL TAKEOFF” the ship alerted to you both and the people on board.

Suddenly in surprise, another creature from the right of Bakugou came towards him and slashed at his back. Bakugou grunted in pain with blood coming down from his arm wounds and now back wound. You quickly threw a dagger placed at your side at the creature’s eye, slowing it down thoroughly, and tried to drag Bakugou as he began to slowly slow down. As he was slowly beginning to fall unconscious because of his deep wounds.

“30 SECONDS UNTIL TAKEOFF” the ship alerted you again. You began to panic but kept running with Bakugou. Knowing that you were only halfway to the ramp and the ramp was beginning to close until the point you wouldn’t be able to jump in the ship before it shut.

You felt tears streaming down your face as you realized you wouldn’t make it.

“Y/N!” Kirishima cried out in panic! He seemed to acknowledge that you and Bakugou were not going to make it as he could barely see you both.

“STOP THE RAMP” Kirishima screamed out to the people on board, specifically to the teachers that could alert the captain. But it was too late. The ramp was fully shut, and the ship was taking off.

You screamed in anger as you had missed the one shot to living, but you couldn’t stay at headquarters. The other creature was chasing after you and was almost near you, so you set Bakugou down as he was fully unconscious. And killed the creature with all the might you had within you.

After it was defeated you picked up Bakugou even though you were tired from running, and ran towards the woods beside headquarters. You knew that U.A wasn’t safe anymore as you saw creatures and dinosaur-like beings beginning to take it over. So you just ran, not knowing where you were going and the danger you would come across.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas  {{ December 21 }}

Christmas tree shopping, ornament making, and decorating reveal some unresolved feelings...

The rest of the chapter after the break:

The door slammed open, clattering against the wall harshly.  Kaiba blinked in the bright light from the hallway, headache blooming at his forehead.

“Atticus wants you to come shopping for a Christmas tree.”  Joey announced, slamming a thermos of coffee and a small bottle of Tylenol on the side table.  The clattering noise was calibrated to exacerbate Kaiba’s hangover, and from the way his eyes squeezed shut, it worked.  “You left some stuff, I stuck it in the guest room closet, so help yourself.”

Joey tried to lower his voice as deeply as possible, make it sound as truly menacing as he could, but the follow up sentence, “Waffles are ready,” just didn’t sound very scary.

For his part, Kaiba just rubbed at his eyes.

When Kaiba rolled into the kitchen forty-five minutes later, he looked completely put together.  The picture of a man who could compartmentalize absolutely everything that had ever happened to him.

As he wandered toward the plate of waffles, Joey could feel the ghost of years past.  Of Seto wandering over, pecking a kiss to his cheek on his way to the coffee machine.

Instead he watched his ex-husband greet the kids and collect the plate set out for him at the counter.  Just the waffle and a bit of butter—no syrup, nothing sweet.  Kaiba sliced into the waffle surgically, and swallowed a small bite of it.  From the look on his face, he was too hungover and sick to really eat.

“Tell your Oto-san to eat his breakfast,” Joey said, pouring a glass of orange juice on the corner of the counter.

Kaiba sent Joey a death glare as Atticus announced that he had just the song.  As Atticus launched into the highly repetitive “Breakfast Song”—an independent composition—Kaiba winced as if he had taken a thousand life points of damage in a shadow game.

The thermos of coffee stayed in Kaiba’s hand as he wove through the driveway.  One of his cars had been left at the house—a black Mercedes that he had no real attachment to.  Kaiba must have tracked down the spare key from the hooks on the wall of the garage.  Kaiba was looking back towards the garage, as if he had a say in the matter.

Joey honked the horn of the minivan, startling his ex-husband and drawing another full body flinch from the man.

“I’m not movin’ Alexis’ car seat! Get in.”  Joey shouted out the window.  Kaiba revived his glare, only to lose it to a frustrated wince as Joey slammed on the horn again.

Kaiba froze, coffee “I swear,” Kaiba said, his voice menacing.  “She’s six, she doesn’t need a car seat.”

“Look, it’s a height thing now.  Ya can’t fire me, Kaiba, so unless ya got other plans, get in the car.”  He punctuated this demand with another ear-scorching honk.

Grasping at the last threads of his dignity, Kaiba straightened his back, schooled his face with as much focus as he could bear, and strode over to the minivan door.

Kaiba flung it open with a theatrical flair that would be more appropriate on a blimp than a minivan.

Joey opened his mouth to deliver an admittedly tepid comment—he was thinking “look who decided to join us”—but he was silenced by the kids cheering when Kaiba sat down in the car.

“Oto-san, can we listen to the Chipmunks Christmas?!” Atticus pleaded from the backseat.  

Joey didn’t bother holding back laughter and Kaiba clenched his jaw and nodded.

. . .

The adventure at the Christmas Tree farm started relatively smooth and uneventful.  Atticus and Alexis were good kids, even if Atticus could be a little loud and demanded a lot of attention, and Alexis was a bit shy.

For his part, Kaiba did an excellent job of standing and observing the process.  With stoicism, he posed at the back of the family and watched as Joey picked a tree, earned the approval of the kids, and tried to chop it down with the farm-provided axe on his own.

Tree chopping was harder than anticipated, and Joey’s struggles were equal parts frustrating and humiliating.

Kaiba couldn’t hold back a snicker, about 15 minutes into Joey’s battle with the tree.   But that was his miscalculation: the perfect opening for Joey to shoot back, “You think yer so strong, pretty boy?  Give it a go.”  And Joey all but tossed the axe in his ex’s direction.  Joey could have used a better, safer and more careful form when he handed his ex-husband the axe, but he was trying to catch his breath, and the haughty bastard had goaded him with that laugh.  Kaiba caught it easily anyway.

“Step back,” Seto announced, as if he was about to perform a magic trick.  The rest of the family formed a slightly more distant semi-circle.

Kaiba posed, axe high behind his back.  He made brief eye-contact with Joey before hefting a massive swing. The arc was long and graceful, and bit into the tree-bark savagely.  It took Joey’s four-inch indent and turned it into eight-inches, fully three-quarters of the way through the tree.

Kaiba smiled, pleased with his work.

“Alright,” Joey offered after a few seconds.  “Now, you pull it out.”  Joey resisted making any further innuendoes in front of the kids.

Kaiba nodded and reached for the axe.  It didn’t budge.  He adjusted his feet in the snow to gain more purchase—to no avail.  He lodged one foot against the tree, and still the leverage was insufficient.  It was as if the tree had accepted the axe as a new branch, and wouldn’t let go.

Kaiba pulled out his phone and started tapping.

“You lookin’ up how to get an axe out of a tree?” Joey challenged.

“No.”

“Oh my god are you trying to buy a better axe? And have it air dropped or something?”

Kaiba’s clever, snarky glance up from his phone told Joey exactly everything he didn’t need to know.  “Would the children have any interest in owning a Christmas tree farm?”

“No!” Joey jumped over, moving to try and steal back Kaiba’s phone before he could pull whatever insane business move required to buy out the family-owned farm.

Kaiba had been a capable “keep-away” player for decades, and hadn’t seemed to allow his skills to get rusty in the intervening period.

Joey still had some signature moves—and certainly could have brought the taller man to his knees if he had a yo-yo on him.

As it stood, the side tackle that Joey settled on was perfectly effective.  They rolled in the snow a bit, Kaiba able to twirl and pass the phone between his hands deftly and Joey ready to brute force the situation.  He had no qualms with getting snow in his ex-husband’s hair or up his nose.

What was surprising was when Kaiba stopped fighting.  He had been pinned down pretty well, back digging into snow, wrists held by Joey’s determined fingers as if handcuffed over his head, flakes stuck to his eyelashes and drenching his scarf.  Joey had one knee jamming Kaiba’s thighs into the ground.

Joey paused with those hands in his vice grip, feeling Kaiba’s muscles relax under his hands. The palms were facing him, and they were empty.  The only metal that Joey could see was the one thing he had longed to forget—Kaiba was still wearing his wedding ring.

“Is that?” Joey asked softly.

Kaiba had been baring a smug smile at Joey, confident in his plan to abscond with the phone—even in the compromised position.  That smile vanished at Joey’s question.

“I didn’t want to field any questions as to whether we were… I wanted it to be clear that we’re both their dads.”  Kaiba should have blushed, but he didn’t.  Instead he looked wild and scared, like he had been caught in a terrible lie.

Joey drew a slow breath, processing the information as the ice melted on Kaiba’s face.

“Oto-san!  I got the phone!” Atticus cheered, waving the slim black device in the air, instantly breaking the tension.

“Excellent execution,” Kaiba said, moving one powerful thigh to dislodge Joey’s entire hold.  He went tumbling back into the snow, and Kaiba stood up and straightened himself.  He held out his hand expectantly, and Atticus handed him the phone.

“How attached are you to this specific tree?” Kaiba asked Alexis, with the same intensity he would levy a question at a board meeting.

With the same seriousness that Kaiba had summoned, Alexis responded ,“I have no attachment to this tree.”

“Atticus?”

The boy shrugged.  Kaiba nodded.  “Then we will acquire another tree by alternative means.”  Kaiba tapped at the screen a few times.  “Any objections?”

This question was directed at Joey who also shrugged.  Joey eyed the axe, buried deep in the trunk of the tree.  It was not promising.

“What’s next on the holiday itinerary?” Kaiba asked, as if he was going to complete the Christmas activity list with the same ruthless efficiency he took to the business world.

“Decorating ornaments.”

. . .

It’s not just that it was fun to watch Kaiba struggle with things—though Joey thought it usually was—but his ex-husband, eyes narrowed in concentration, brows strung in frustration, long fingers dripping golden glitter glue…

Joey could have laughed the entire time.

Atticus had nicely decorated a music note.  He had diligently written the year and his name and his age on the thin piece of wood, and then doodled colorful lines around it.  Alexis had decorated a ballet slipper with surprisingly delicate shading and the same information.

Joey was relatively pleased with his own decoration: a nicely colored-in icon of the Time Wizard, with the same information.  He had hesitated to put his age, but it was tradition, and Alexis would surely bust him for breaking the rules.

But Kaiba had to be ambitious.  Usually his abilities could keep up with his formidable plans.  But this year’s image of the Thousand Dragon had not gone according to plan.  He had foolishly done the Blue Eyes White Dragon for the first year, and burned through it’s permutations by the time they finalized the divorce.

The underlying coloring wasn’t terrible—and the silhouette of a dragon was distinct enough that he couldn’t quite make it unrecognizable.  But the glitter glue gambit hadn’t paid off.  Instead of an extra level of pizazz, the glue had chemically interacted with the ink of the pens underneath.

Like a craft drawer Icarus that had flown too close to the sun, the careful coloring underneath melted into an absolute mess, blurring the relevant information, as well as the face of the dragon.  The whole work turned into a muddled, blotchy, glittering thing.  Yellows and marigolds combining to look more like a splotchy watercolor, but it lacked intention or grace.

Joey’s smile was wide and his jaw was clenched from the effort of not laughing at Kaiba’s very sad ornament.  “You can go back to the craft store and get a new blank one,” Joey managed to eek out, with only minimal giggles spilling into his speech.

“It’s…” Kaiba pushed at the glue with a sticky fingertip, as if he could reset the colors by sheer force of will.  “I will… write the information the back.”  Kaiba flipped the ugly ornament directly on the disposable plastic table cover, glitter glue oozing out.  He wrote his name in Japanese characters, and the date.

“It doesn’t look like a dragon, Oto-san,” Atticus protested.  “You have to try again!”

Kaiba nodded, and affixed two googly eyes to the head.

Joey completely lost it at the plain wooden outline of a dragon, wings stretched, blank except for the name, date, and age on it’s belly, glitter glue leaking from under it, as if wounded, and two plastic google eyes quivering as the table shook with his laughter.

Joey thought he spotted a soft smile on Kaiba’s face, but by the time he caught his breath again, it was gone.

. . .

Joey tried to push down the warmth in his chest that swelled when he saw Kaiba wrapped around the tree, diligently stringing holiday lights.  True to his word, he had an assistant from Kaiba Corp. USA’s New York branch sent out on an emergency hunt for the perfect tree.  Without much thought, by the time the family had made it home from the Upstate adventure and trip to the craft store, a tree was already staged in their house—perfectly conical and even.  As flawless as plastic, but full of that distinct pine scent.

Putting lights on the tree had been an intuitively “Kaiba” sort of activity.  He was taller, more electrically inclined, and better suited to the less nostalgic Christmas elements.  Although Joey had handled the task just fine, Kaiba’s persnickety nature did contribute to him spreading the lights evenly and nicely.  It was sort of frustrating for Joey to see the lights look so smooth and flawlessly distributed.  Especially when two years ago they had looked so uneven.

The off-year, when Kaiba had the kids for the winter holiday, Joey hadn’t bothered with any of his own decorations.  He had just visited his sister’s place, skyped with the kids, and moped.  He’d fallen asleep watching “Elf” alone on the couch.  It ranked high on his list of worst Christmases ever.  

Joey wondered a little, while Seto fought with the fragrant pine-needle branches, whether this would top the list of worst holidays.  Somehow, already, it didn’t feel like a bad holiday at all.

Joey held out a warm mug to Seto, once his task was finished.  It was one of the older ones, white with that navy-blue KC logo imprinted, but faded over the years.  

Kaiba raised his hand to reject the offering.  “I’m avoiding processed sugars. Last night was an exception, not the rule.”

Joey rolled his eyes.  “Trust me, if you’re going to sit through any of tonight’s concert, you’ll appreciate the… heh… innovation.”

With a skeptical look at the hot chocolate and half-melted marshmallows, Kaiba reluctantly accepted the mug.  He took a slow sip, before his eyebrows raised, recognizing the heroic volume of Baileys that had been surreptitiously mixed in.  Kaiba nodded in approval.  “I stand corrected.”

Indeed, the adulterated cocoa was fully drained over the course of Atticus’s hour long performance of every Christmas song he knew, plus a few piano remixes of various children’s show theme songs, and an original composition which was actually just smashing on the keys and smiling.

Kaiba remained steadfastly bound to the couch while Joey and Alexis actually placed all of the ornaments, whispering about what should go where.  A few times, Joey looked over, just to see if Kaiba had left.  Instead, he stayed, eyes darkened by some unknowable emotion.  When the concert was over, and Joey and Alexis’s task was finally complete, the three stepped back to turn off the overhead lights and bask in the eclectic glory of the tree.

Only then had Kaiba vanished.

. . .

Joey wandered into Kaiba’s study.  After the last night’s stunt, he expected to see the decanter open on the coffee table.

Instead, Kaiba was illuminated by his laptop, the rhythm of his typing on the keyboard sounding just a little like music.  “What do you want?” Kaiba asked, not looking up from his computer.

“I—” Joey shrugged, flopping down on the chair opposite Kaiba.  “I want to talk, I guess.”  

“About what?” Kaiba asked, though it didn’t quite come out like a question.  There was not a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Us.”  Joey looked over at Kaiba.  “You’re wearing the ring, Kaiba.” Kaiba looked down at his own hand, as if he had forgotten that he’d put it on and failed to take it off.

“Yeah.  And we were outside: there’s no blizzard anymore, Kaiba.  It blew over last night.  I’m no meteorologist, but you’re definitely cleared to fly.”  Joey placed his hands on his hips, pleased with his own argument.

“The ring was unrelated,” Kaiba said, emotionless, glued to the computer screen.  Joey rolled his eyes.  “And the children have expressed that they’d like me to stay for the holiday.  If you will not allow me to, that is a different matter.”

“Of course you can stay, but we need to talk about us.  What’s going on here, Kaiba?”

“You’ve made it clear, enough times, that you don’t want me, not in the way that I want you,” Kaiba added, typing speed not diminished in the slightest.  “None of that has changed, like you said.  And so I don’t know why you are bothering me, now.”

Jou shifted slightly in his chair, his stomach tuning over.  Sitting next to Kaiba hadn’t given him this sort of anxiety for so long, maybe ever.  He was used to hot anger, coursing through his veins, pooling in his fists.  This uneasy détente felt simultaneously unsustainable and like the exact tar pit they’d been drowning in for the last three years.

“I don’t know that I meant that.  I mean, yeah, in the moment, I meant it.  But,” Joey leaned back, trying to reposition himself so that he might be more comfortable.  There didn’t seem to be any decent way to sit in his own damn chair.  “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all.  A little.  Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Kaiba’s typing speed finally slowed, acquiescing to the intensity of the conversation.  Frankly, as Kaiba drew one hand to seal the lid of his laptop, Joey was willing to call that a change.  He hadn’t even had to literally ask Kaiba to stop working.  “Jounouchi.  Tell me what you want to hear.”

“Fine.” Joey straightened his shoulders.  “I want to know what happened when you went back to Domino.”

There was a long pause.

“I stayed on Mokuba’s couch for three months.” Kaiba crossed his arms defensively.

Joey burst out with warm laughter.  Kaiba didn’t blush, but he raised an eyebrow, as if to signal his ex-husband was not being the image of social grace.  Maybe he’d forgotten to whom he was married.

“And how’d he like that?” Joey said as his breathing steadied.

“He liked it fine.  He has always appreciated my cooking.  His fiancé did not.”

And like that, Joey was lost in another cacophony of giggles.  “Why didn’t you go back to the manor?”

Kaiba looked away, suddenly fascinated by the crystal decanter that had returned to the end table.  “It was… uncomfortable, after all this time.  After Mokuba’s partner made her opinion clear—”

“God, I can only imagine what the arguments were like,” Joey smiled again, bright as sunshine.

“It was not pleasant.  Obviously, my brother and I are still very close, but there were certain problems that arose—”

Joey leaned back in the chair, and balanced his feet on the coffee table.  To the untrained observer, it could have been mistaken for casual.  But all of the muscles of his legs were tense, the tendons that collided with the table strung like the strong of a bow.  “I bet I can guess: you show up at 2 am, you make whatever noise you’re gonna make with no regard for anyone sleeping, you sleep in all day after a couple of all-nighters unpredictably—”

“Yes,” Kaiba said, his voice somewhat soured.  “Everything that you hate about me, unsurprisingly was also loathsome to Yui.”

“That’s not… Kaiba its not things I hate about you,” Joey shifted again in the chair, picking at his nailbeds.  He looked as if he had been called into the principal’s office again after a fight.  “It’s shit that you do, that you choose to do, that’s disrespectful to the people around you.  I’m glad to hear that Yui didn’t take it.”

“After a time, you didn’t either, right?”  Kaiba responded, the sadness seeping in a little.  From the longing glance he shot at the whiskey, the allure of the crystal decanter was strong; the urge to not deal with his ex-husband in this mood, fully sober, was perhaps stronger.

But there was something about Joey’s words that seemed to put up a forcefield around the bottle.  “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all.  A little.  Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Joey rolled his eyes, pressing fast-forward on the tired argument.  “That wasn’t all of it, and we both know that you know better.  But just tell me what else happened.”

Kaiba’s sour expression and defensive posture continued.  “After that, I got an apartment near the office.  I only used the manor in the Summer, when the children came to visit.”  Kaiba eyed that bottle once more.  “It was disconcerting to be there alone.  I thought… that this is what he must have… felt like.”

As if saying his name would have brought him into their life, awakened some other dormant form of him trapped between this world and the Hell he so surely belonged in.

They sat there, soaking in the ghosts of the past a little longer.  Joey wasn’t going to say anything to break the silence—he knew from experience that with enough stubbornness, Seto would eventually be forced to say something to change the subject or actually talk about his feelings.

After just a couple of minutes, Joey was proven right.

“Are you really happy working at the daycare?” Kaiba asked.

“How did you—” It was only natural that Kaiba would have Joey at a loss again.

“Yugi is a game developer, you know that he collaborates with Kaiba Corp.  We talk… sometimes,” Kaiba said, feigning nonchalance.  It was not persuasive.  Kaiba’s intensity for everything was too strong.  Joey was quite certain he’d never had a casual interest in his entire life.

“Yeah.  Things are good,” Joey answered the original question.

Kaiba nodded at the input and reopened the laptop.  The glare illuminated the wire framed lenses, hiding any expression within his eyes.  “I’m getting back to work.”

Joey considered putting up a fight.  But it had been a long enough day.  In a move reminiscent of his ex, he rose from his seat wordlessly and went his own way.

[writerofthespiral]

The Machine

Author’s Note: So you know, I recently finished Pirate101 for the first time after getting back into it since I was like eight (and now I’m getting back into Wiz) and I must say I genuinely enjoyed it. I laughed a lot and cried some — it was great! The only thing I didn’t enjoy was the ending (I liked it, but I was just sad to see it end, ya know). So, I decided to write it from the p.o.v of my pirate — hope you enjoy! Comment down below!

Word Count: 2400

Trigger Warning: Blood, gore, asphyxiation

The time for the final battle had come upon Ingrid and her crew — to defeat Kane himself. She looked around the lower control room of The Machine, a strong sense of disgust running through her veins. Around her was smashed machinery, oil stains, and the twitching remains of masked automata on the gold and steel platform, some of which had fallen onto the cold, brown marble flooring below. But, that wasn’t where her attention lay.  

“After him Captain, for the Spiral!” El Toro exclaimed, a heroic smile beneath the bull’s white mask, but Ingrid barely noticed the bull.

She drowned out his voice as she descended the metal steps they previously climbed, her getas clicking against the floor. She stopped at the corpse of Gazpaccio, a sad old man killed by his own creation, his own child, Kane. But, could she blame the heartless monster for his actions?

Gazpaccio was the cause of all of this. The death of her parents, the need for a revolution to begin with, and the endangerment of the Spiral. All of this in the name of revenge against the Tortellini family. And of course, darkness bred darkness. It was only until his last days that he acted, wanting to give his son the heart he should’ve had to begin with. But, it was far too late.

Ingrid wanted to hate him for all the problems he’d caused, understanding how much it hurt to be born out of revenge. But, like her own parents, he had shown his creation love, and love was something Kane wasn’t capable of. Even without a proper heart, he never took the time to understand it — to try to feel it — for surely someone with a magnificent mind could learn to love. Even his chaotic creation, Phule, could love.

Either way, nobody should have to die as Gazpaccio did, nor should they be left to rot. Thus, in good conscience, Ingrid turned his body over, laying his arms across his chest.  She took off her headdress, clutching it to her chest and kneeling in prayer. She gently placed it on his chest and stood to her feet, a sorrowful look in her eyes. 

With that done, it was time to cover him. She took off her tattered robes, once a fine silk kimono from Mooshu colored black, white, and gold, now, worse for wear from combat. She never properly appreciated nor wore them as it was. And if they could give a man the peace he deserved, even for a fleeting moment, then she would do that for him. Though the sky pirate was used to death, and even able to revive the dead as a Witchdoctor, her mojo was nearly spent, not to mention his age making things more difficult. Besides, she could feel his tired soul reject life, and she would not raise the unwilling.

She felt a hand on her shoulder from her closest friend, if not father figure. He spoke in a gentle tone, “You tried your best, Dragonfly, the fault does not lie with you. We are at the end of our journey — let us not allow his death to be in vain.”

“But… Kan Po, isn’t it already in vain? He wanted to give his son a heart, to properly fix him, and that’s what we came for, isn’t it? Even if our main objective became saving the Spiral, that doesn’t take away from the original purpose, does it?”

“No, but, in a way, he would have died. Life is a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth; we would have killed off the evil in him in one way, Dragonfly, and now we will in another.”

She solemnly nodded in response. “Yes, I suppose. No mercy for a bastard.”

She took a moment to ready herself, checking to see if her chest was bound properly and that her hakama was aptly done. She wouldn’t want her pants to be too loose or come undone in the midst of combat. They hadn’t yet, but you could never be too sure.

‘You know,’ she thought to herself, observing her tan brown skin, ‘I never noticed how many scars I’ve gotten over all these years…’

She looked back up at the platform, Bonnie Anne motioning for her and Kan Po. “Come on, let’s go!” She yelled with urgency.

The young pirate nodded, rejoining the group with haste. This was it.

The crew rode in tense silence, stepping into the upper control room — the head of the near-destroyed Machine. The room was like a dome, decorated with silver and golden gears, and a map of the Spiral with magnifying glasses on the back wall. The green skies of Valencia were visible all around the crew from the glass, polluted by the smog of clockwork machinery. Above their heads was a strange laser-like contraption made from the ethereal purple crystals from the Isle Of Doom, which momentarily brought Ingrid’s attention to the ones kept in glass casings. And at the center of it all was Kane, his elites, and his marine pawns.

That’s when the young pirate took notice of the floor: it was a chessboard. All of this  —  her suffering, that of her crewmates, and that of the entire Spiral’s — was a game. His pursuit of perfection was just a game. With this realization, her doubts faded away. She had to end him.

“We’ve played a long chess game, you and I, and you’ve done far better than expected. But now it’s time I was rid of you. How about one final match? To be sporting, I’ll only use half my pieces — is that not generous?” Kane menacingly spoke.

“Deacon! Rooke! But how?” El Toro exclaimed in shock.

“Should’ve stayed dead,” Ingrid mumbled to herself, never one for words. She always was unnaturally quiet, even when her parents were alive. She didn’t like noise, nor did she enjoy parties or crowds. In fact, she found the rambunctious nature of the Unicorn nobles so unbearable that it took all of her will not to break down and cry. It was the main reason she stormed The Clock Works and The Machine without hesitation. 

Somehow, Valencian nobility was worse than Marleybonian nobility, and that’s saying a lot as her own mother was Marleybonian nobility. Ingrid could play diplomat, but wasn't completely socially literate. She knew better than anyone else that what she lacked in social skills, she more than made up for it with her combative abilities. Therefore, this battle had to be.

“They’re only machines. It was expensive to replace the children you destroyed, but I managed.” Kane stated. “Bishop, of course, you already know. Allow me to introduce Queen, greatest of my creations.”

“You flatter me, darling,” Queen spoke.

“Not at all. Kill them, my children. Kill them all.”

Thus, combat began. The Clockwork marines rapidly charged forward, striking with near-deadly accuracy. They were merely pawns, but could kill, and stab, and cut, and some of Ingrid's crew aren’t able to block or dodge as easily.

Ingrid focused her attention on Kane, her ruby red eyes widening in shock — he could teleport? Seeing as mojo was illegal by Armada standards, the fact that he had any was a surprise, and the fact that he could use it well was terrifying, especially because he was attempting to pick everyone off like flies…

Ingrid rushed over to Old Scratch, helping her fellow Witchdoctor strengthen their team and call upon the willing dead, creating a better chance for survival. Once finished, she jumped into the fray — she’d never been one to simply stand on the sides and cast spells like a Wizard. Her first target was Deacon; she hated him with her soul, so seeing him ‘live’ again… He wouldn’t live for long.

She took him by surprise like Kan Po had taught her to, summoning a mojo knife and slicing off his head. He’d already been damaged by Bonnie Anne’s spark gun, so he was an easy target.

El Toro, Contessa, Kan Po, Ratbeard, and Hawkules fought tooth and nail through hordes of Armada marines, facing Rooke, Bishop, and Queen. They faced bombs, clockwork traps, guns, and halberds head-on.

As the battle went on, neither side seemed to truly win. Bones, ectoplasm, oil, and Clockwork bodies filled the room. Most of Ingrid’s crew had fallen, and she could only hope they were knocked out and not dead. She’d seen Bonnie Anne subdued with spark guns, Mormo stabbed through, Ratbeard and Hawkules fall taking down Rooke, and El Toro hurt by one of Bishop’s traps. Kane’s army was no different, however, for all that remained standing was he and Queen. As for Ingrid, Contessa and Kan Po remained — everyone else was hurt or…

Ingrid didn’t have time to think about it; she focused on the fight. If this truly was only half of Kane’s pawns, then he needed to die, or everyone’s sacrifices would be in vain. Catbeard would surely scold her for that, and she wouldn't want Gracie's genius to be stamped out.

Ingrid looked to her still standing friends. They nodded at each other, knowing what had to be done. Ingrid used one of her abilities, soulreaver. Giant skeletal hands held Queen down, spirits attacking her as Contessa and Kan Po charged forward. But, the eloquent creation refused to go down so easily. With her dying 'breath,' she brought down Contessa, running her blade through the abdomen of the unicorn rebel.

Ingrid felt her heart sink at the sight of it, yet she continued to fight. "Just like the old times, eh? Just the two of us, Kan Po."

He nodded. "Let us finish our journey, Dragonfly."

She took a deep breath, sending a mojo blast towards Kane, magical lightning leaving her finger-tips. But to her dismay, he teleported away, and that's when she felt herself being shoved to the ground. She looked up in horror as she watched Kane slice through Kan Po's chest, bits of the goat's blood staining her clothing. He kicked the man's body aside, standing over the shocked pirate, tears in her eyes.

"Kan…P…" was all she could mumble before her staff was knocked away.

"Now that that's settled, it seems I've won," Kane spoke, holding his blade above the teen. "You really should have joined me — you and I were born out of vengeance; I could've used your prowess. You defeated Deacon, Bishop, and Rooke. Why, you even took Bishop's staff as a trophy. Too bad you've become obsolete."

He brought down his blade to finish the job, but at the last moment, the witch grabbed  Kan Po's staff, managing to block his attack and kick his weapon away. Before she was fully a Witchdoctor, she was a sickly runt who got by by fighting in the pits of Krokotopia — she could still fight. She was badly bruised and bleeding, but she killed herself to continue on. Her physical wounds would never match her emotional wounds.

She tackled Kane, spitting in his face. With venom, she spat, "I would never join you." She did her best to beat him with the staff, her mojo low. But it was no match, he was physically stronger than her, rather easily knocking it from her hands.

They tussled around in the heap of the dead and dying, but Kane overpowered her, freed himself from her grasp, and knocked her into one of the walls. The white-haired witch weakly attempted to get up, only to be kicked in the stomach and collapse. He grabbed her by the neck, violently shoving her into one of the crystal containers, broken glass penetrating her back as he tightened his grip, slowly suffocating her. She wanted to let out a scream, but couldn't breathe.

"Now, now, close your eyes and fall aslumber — eternally. I must perfect myself, then the Spiral. There is no place for people like you, so go ahead and die for me."

She felt her consciousness fading, her body slowly going into a state of shock. And in what she believed to be her final moments, she saw visions of her parents. She felt… Her mother's embrace, hearing a silent, yet sweet, "I love you" in her ear. Her father, however, she could not hear, and yet, she felt him just as strongly. His demonic will echoed through her — fight. She had to fight.

Her mother lost nearly everything she cared for, but she fought for what she wanted — demanded it. The deal Alison Voss made with the spirits, along with the sacrifices it took to bring back both husband and child, is the only reason why Ingrid Voss was alive. And in return, as the Witchdoctor had found along her journey, she was to face the leader of the Armada. Their stories were tied, and fates sealed, one way or another. Thus, she fought against her own body.

Her ruby eyes glew a deep red as she weakly brought Kane into her embrace, showing affection to the mind that never knew love.

"If you're trying to fight me, it won't work," he spat, "I'm almost done just let me-"

Her face was turning a deadly shade of blue, but she shook her head and cut him off, mumbling, "I… forgive… you…"

"Forgiveness I-" This time, he was cut off by his limbs locking against his will — his hubris was his undoing as Ingrid used her mojo and his against him. Even just a little drop was good enough for her.

"Let's… die… together…" she muttered, sending a powerful electric blast of mojo through the both of them. Her screams filled the room this time, pain running through her from electricity, burning, and broken glass.

"No...not like this. Not like this. I must not…!" he desperately exclaimed, as he fell backward, his systems overpowered by the surge in electricity. As he fell and died, his iron grip dissipated from Witchdoctor's throat.

Heavily wounded, she collapsed onto the ground and closed her eyes, a smile on her face — she won. She heard the silent, yet shaky breaths of her crewmates, and in her heart, she knew they would live. She knew she would live, for she was destined to grow old and see the Spiral change, and she would do it with them. They would sustain, thus she could rest.

[demytasse]

[Shizaya] A Proposed Solution

Summary: Shizuo has a solution to long-standing relationship problems between him and Izaya, but both aren't thoroughly convinced it's the best route.

Preview: Once again he found that his tone fell flat of the sarcasm he tried for. If he weren't so tired he would have been aggravated with himself, but instead he focused his grievance on how long it had been since he felt his toes, his limbs, or perhaps his left hand that he hadn’t registered had been plucked from his side.

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234402

The accentuated patter of feet against damp asphalt gave the impression that it still rained. Although the weather had let up, the damage had already been done as Izaya's sweatshirt soaked straight to his skin. His escape from the apartment was impromptu, his coat had been forgotten, his outfit was more fit for relaxation, and his running shoes weren’t his own as he’d grabbed the pair that was too large.

He assumed he was a fair bit ahead of his pursuer by the heavier stamp of feet that still managed to be dampened by distance. The sound bounced from one building to the next in an auditory game of billiards. Every so often the step pattern would change up, rest, then pick up again after a series of curses. Izaya hypothesized that he had three bastardized versions of his name left before Shizuo found him propped up against a shockingly clean alley wall that he’d expended the rest of his energy to pick out from the disgusting.

    “I swear to fuckin’ hell, you fleabag! I thought we were done with this shit!”

A metal clang rang above his hoarse screams that drew closer. Another trashcan casualty took the brunt of Shizuo's frustration, but lucky for the streets the damage done that night was far less than past assaults.

To be honest, Izaya thought the two of them had ended their old ways as well. Fights now occurred within the bounds of their apartment and half the time between the sheets. That made the current kerfuffle an anomaly of their nightly routine.

An hour worth of dodging half-assed attacks pushed Izaya’s muscles to their limit. He wasn’t out-of-shape, it was that his athleticism was only less when compared to the bodyguard whose profession gave him more exercise than a job that took place before a computer would. The informant got less opportunities to naturally work out nowadays without the aid of his partner’s influence as proven with huffs for air that were also driven by anxiousness.

Izaya wasn't positive if he should be afraid of the moment Shizuo caught him or not. On one hand their prior discussion wasn't one that would lead to a murder, even if it had run amuck. The other hand argued that a steak knife stab, as weak as it was, probably warranted some kind of retribution.

    “It wasn't necessary to run out on me, louse!”

It was necessary when his physical attack was considered. Izaya acted upon a flash of fearful inspiration to which he instantly regretted. No matter if he ran like a coward, what was done was done. He sighed and waited for the inevitable that he’d have to face. His legs may have tired, but his constitution was replenished. For now, at least.

    “Finally! You’re such a little shit! Ya know that?” He regained his breath quickly, “fuckin’ pest...” his expletives, though excessive, calmed him.

    “Congratulations, you found me.”

Exhaustion impacted his ability to come up with a sarcastic remark therefore he relied on his tone. Unfortunately it failed to convey his intent with dry delivery.

Rain dropped from Shizuo's plastered bangs to draw attention to his softened expression. Izaya realized that he must have messed up his response more than he thought. He sighed ruefully.

    “We won’t fuck it up…” Shizuo shook out his legs to get accustomed to his standstill.

    “Oh?”

    “Not if we had a reason to stay together.”

    “Ah, you're back to this again.”

Their conversation from earlier blended seamlessly into the present with a repeat of what Shizuo had already said. Izaya tensed just the same as he did before. His eyes slipped to the gash he had torn into the other’s forearm and unconsciously shook his head.

    “Don’t worry 'bout it. It didn't hurt.”

    “I know. I only used it as a distraction to get away, brute.”

    “You seemed worried is all…” he trailed off.

Izaya shrugged and sighed. It was all he could muster after his push off the wall took too much of his concentration.

    “Look…it's not like I don't worry either, but that's normal?”

The way Shizuo ended his thought did little to bolster the confidence of his statement. It begged Izaya to question if he should believe what followed or if his words were only thought correct, but wound up empty.

    “It’s probably why I should just fuckin’ ask you already.”

Shizuo looked ruffled more than panicked. His movements twitched as if he searched for the appropriate words, or perhaps something physical. The anxiousness transposed itself onto Izaya’s mindset.

Given the context, the hint of what would be asked was limited, but Izaya had it narrowed down to one specifically. Then again he had assumed it earlier which was how they got into their situation; in the alley, both dressed for a lounge instead of a midnight city stroll.

    “Do you think your question will resolve anything?”

The honesty bit at the humid air.

    “...I’m not really sure…”

    “Ah…”

   “Will you let me ask it anyway?” Shizuo hesitated an inch forward, but only continued once Izaya uncrossed his arms to open his body language.

    “Asking for permission to ask something. Who does that?”

Once again he found that his tone fell flat of the sarcasm he tried for. If he weren't so tired he would have been aggravated with himself, but instead he focused his grievance on how long it had been since he felt his toes, his limbs, or perhaps his left hand that he hadn’t registered had been plucked from his side.

His numb fingers were revived with a massage, but the one decorated with silver was Shizuo’s focus. Rather the finger that had been decorated right up until it wasn't.

Izaya disappeared from his surroundings in narrowed awe of the how mesmerized Shizuo was of his ring, as if it were a new addition to his accessories other than what he normally wore.

The blond’s tipped smile wavered as he dropped a bare knee onto the jagged street without a thought, as if he’d practiced on carpeted ground. He unsurprisingly didn't flinch from littered glass fragments that dug into him.

    “You know... it's been ten years.”

    “Wait, Shizuo... This isn’t a solution.”

    “No. Let me finish, Izaya.”

He was reluctant to let his hand be snatched up again, but the comfort that spilled into his palm made it hard to resist. Although Izaya's compromise ended with their held hands as he focused on the empty street to their side rather than the determined gaze that burned for attention.

    “I've stuck through all of your shit for ten years…”

Izaya dropped his jaw to interject, but was cut off.

    “Yeah, yeah, you’ve done the same for me too, you brat.”

    “This is fun. I’m getting to rest my vocal chords for a change,” he smirked through his pained nerves.

    “This is the shit I'm talkin’ about.” Shizuo's eyes rolled. “I still love you.”

The overabundant heat Shizuo normally held was passed onto the metal ring that was already delivered to Izaya's ring finger.

    “You’re using my own ring...”

    “Orihara Izaya…”

    “...to pop the quest--” A hand clamped over his mouth.

    “Izaya will you just let me propose!?”

He was unable to verbally respond, but he still managed to communicate with a glimmer to his eyes.

Shizuo sighed. He flicked water from his damp hair as he slicked it back. His heavy hand dropped to his side.

It was out in the open what would come next, but Izaya baited his breath as the moment extended with the both of them out of each other’s focus, with a bashful avoidance of the other’s expression.

    “Will you marry me?”

The words were dampened by an unanticipated rush of rain. Shizuo understood that he hadn't been outspoken when they centered their gaze. With a nod Izaya affirmed that he heard, but his lost expression left them both uneasy.

Izaya took his hand back while he tossed consideration around in his head. With his hand extended before him he twisted and turned his head to observe how foreign the familiar band looked on the improper knuckle. He flipped attention to his palm and thumbed the loose silver around his bony finger.

    “You know, this ring doesn't even fit, Shizu-chan...”

The two were sheltered from the rain, but it still managed to spread a chill throughout their bodies, or at least Izaya's response chilled Shizuo just as much as the heartbreak froze Izaya.

    “That’s your answer…”

A nimble work of his finger tips moved the ring over obstacles to return to the appropriate finger in a habit he had perfected with time. Dual stares watched as the ring revolved back through his fingers, both unable to predict the land of the roulette.

    “It's obvious that your proposal wasn't planned, Shizu-chan.”

    “So what?”

    “Hmm…” Izaya delayed.

   “SO WHAT, IZAYA!?” Shizuo gestured a wild attack of the air. His hand landed conveniently into the prepared trap of Izaya's grasp.

    “But I suppose this isn't either.”

It was unknown how his second ring was removed, but it wound up on Shizuo's pointer finger to match Izaya's hand all the same.

    “...hu?”

Shizuo’s face fell blank as Izaya's became flustered.

    “That’s my answer, idiot!”

    “Izaya, don't fuck with me! How is you giving me your ring an answer?!”

    “Excuse me, but you gave me my ring to propose! How do you not get something so simple?”

    “Just be straight forward for once! Not everything has to be difficult!!”

Shizuo stomped back to his feet with his fist clenched. He showed off his new ring by thrusting the flat side of his hand just short of Izaya's face.

    “Seriously,” Izaya scoffed, “I have no idea how this marriage is going to work out.”

   “It’s only ‘cause you’re so focused on aggravating me that you won't even answer my proposal! TEN YEARS, IZAYA, TEN! IT SHOULD BE EASY!”

As one raged, the other stayed calm.

    “Heiwajima Izaya...that will take getting used to.”

    “Hah? What are you sayin’ now, flea--”

Realization hit Shizuo and paused his rampage and left his mouth agape.

    “I wonder if I’ll lose business due to people not recognizing my name.”

A full frontal attack knocked Izaya back a hitch, but a wrap of limbs kept him balanced. At the nook of his neck he felt the warmth of Shizuo's breath.

    “Or you could take my name! Orihara Shizuo. That has a nice ring to it, yeah?”

Shizuo growled in play, “I don't fuckin’ care about names! Pick whatever you want.”

    “You sure about that?”

    “Shut up before I change my mind!”

Izaya reassured the sincerity of his answer by completing their hold with a loose hook of his arms across the small of Shizuo's back. They took a moment to bring down their overworked pulses by reaching meditation from the other’s calming breath. A blanket of humidity wrapped them up and caused Izaya to tremor as the heat of their chase diminished. Shizuo pulled back and assessed his partner’s condition. Izaya’s whole body was seized up and uncomfortable while drowned by the weather’s deed.

With a crouch, Shizuo scooped a more than willing Izaya into his arms and swiftly exited the alley.

As they made their way through the empty streets, Izaya distanced his presence with his hood that he had drawn to cover his eyes. He sulked into Shizuo’s arms and attempted to speak up several times over the extent of their walk home. Izaya recognized the lay of their apartment building’s surroundings from a peek around the obstructing fabric. As the distance from their destination shortened, his time to speak his mind candidly lessened and he knew he wouldn’t have the will once they crossed their threshold.

    “You know, we still have issues to work though…”

A jolt brought Shizuo back from the depth of his own thoughts.

    “I know.”

   “Marriage could accentuate the problems. In fact, when people get married as a solution for their patchy relationship it often ends in divorce. I can look up the statistics if you’re curious.”

    “Not getting married could too, Izaya,” Shizuo’s words were blunt and immediate as they had already rested on his tongue while Izaya ran through his hesitancy.

    Izaya hummed, “How insightful. I would prod you for more details of your defense, but oddly enough I’m too exhausted to even listen."

Shizuo nodded.

    “Count yourself lucky. You got off easy this time, my fiancé.”

A grin pulled through for Shizuo, “I like the sound of that. Say it again.”

    “You got off easy this time? I’d rather that not be something I repeat often, it would mean that I was left high and dry in the heat of sex, right?”

    “I thought you were tired,” he grumbled.

    “I’m never too tired to poke fun at my fiancé~.”

A boyish smile sat just beyond the edge of Izaya’s hood in response to the rolled eyes he received, but his partner’s joy read easily as he picked up a chipper step. Cheeky and confident, he knew Shizuo appreciated the clever way he had humoured the innocent request.

Perhaps the end cap to their night was all the proof Izaya needed to believe in the permanence of their future marriage and not a transitional phase that led to a feared separation. If anything, the lay of his old ring against his skin while they later shared space in bed helped calm him into slumber. As it was, their engagement was something new, their relationship was something old, and Shizuo’s ring was something borrowed; it all met the requirements needed for the old romantic superstition to aid in a prosperous marriage.

Regardless of any luck he could rely on, Izaya finally felt ready to properly support the health of his and Shizuo's relationship on his own and together with his husband to be.

[fulgadrome]

For an art trade with @goldenscribe / @iron-loaf

Summary: Shino fights both Torune and his mother during the Edo Tensei event, and it is incredibly traumatizing. 

Word Count: 2507

Shino Aburame prided himself on his adaptability. A ninja battlefield was a mad eruption of deadly, constantly shifting conditions even at the best of times. The abilities that shinobi could bring to bear were often strange and ubiquitously dangerous. One of his very best friends, a quiet and unassuming girl to the average observer, had a vision technique that could pierce solid matter and had a range that numbered in kilometers. Combined with a dexterity that boggled the mind, she and those of her family line used their kekkei genkai to attack the very chakra network of their enemies. The ease with which they could shut down their opponent’s bodies was, frankly, frightening.

And that was simply one jutsu, of an innumerable count. Shino was well aware that at any moment, even seemingly feeble opponents might pull a trump card and swing the flow of battle in their favor. It needn’t be something as dramatic as a flashy technique, either—there were hardened professionals who built their careers on nothing but the mastery of the basics, who nevertheless came out on top, despite deviating little from what might be considered “academy level”. In the right hands, a well-placed kunai was just as treacherous as a fireball. His was a volatile, unpredictable profession. Even the best laid plans must account for that fact.  

Shinobi that couldn’t adjust to the situation as required simply weren’t suited to the career. He believed this firmly, and without malice. Just as he believed that with his temperament and intellect, he was well-suited.

But this…

Only his reflexes were saving him now.

“Losing focus? I know I taught you better than that, Rolypoly,” the woman said, launching herself forward. He dodged backwards, out of her range, and found his back planted against a large outcropping of stone, nowhere to go. Sloppy.

His environmental awareness had taken a toll. No, that was inaccurate. He was devastated… on all fronts.

In an instant, his assailant was upon him. Her heel came down with a crack like lightening, and Shino substituted himself for an insect clone he’d placed at the start of the confrontation. The woman’s kick passed through the clone’s throat, and a black spatter of kikaichū erupted from his double’s wound. Even though it wasn’t really his body, the image was like something from out of a nightmare. The entire situation was.

“You cannot win if you do not even try, Shino. You must fight back.” She drew a knife from a pouch, and twirled it in her hand, just as he’d seen her do a thousand times. His heart seized. Once, when he was just four or five, Shino had gotten into her weapons pouch and accidentally cut himself trying to replicate that trick. Kintsugi, seeing how he had managed to gouge his foot, kept her weapons sealed away at all times from then on—and continued to do so, well past the point where such precautions were necessary, long into his academy years.

Such a foolish child he had been. Shino still had the scar.

“Eyes forward, now. You will beat this,” she said.

He wasn’t so certain.

On those long nights where he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling and stew in the memories of Kintsugi’s death, he tried to imagine her at peace. That his mother was happy and whole, in some distant place. It was a thought that brought him some modicum of comfort. But there was no sense in avoiding the reality of the situation. This really was his mother, resurrected by the foul crime against nature that was Edo Tensei. She should be at rest, not dragged into a war by a traitorous psychopath.

And yet here she stood, revived, enslaved. A tool in the arsenal of a megalomaniac, forced to fight against the very nation she had lost her life defending. It was a despicable tactic, but he couldn’t fault its effectiveness.

He was falling all to pieces. This was agony.  

She was almost exactly as he remembered. Beautiful, and so, so strong. He hadn’t seen her since he was a child, and… and he was grown now. She had always towered in his memories of her, but now she seemed so small.

“Mother,” he choked out, before his vision went white. Someone had struck a blow to his head from behind. Shino avoided the following blow, which might well have proved fatal.

It was Torune. Kintsugi had cloaked the sound of his approach with genjutsu.

“You must be more careful, Shino. My rinkaichū can make even a glancing blow deadly.”

Shino was well aware of that—had always been, even before his attempts to interbreed the rinkaichū with his own kikaichū, a task he had approached with the utmost care. Before his brother was taken—before Shino had a brother—when father first came home with a boy in a strange mask and declared that cousin Torune would be living with them from now on, the announcement had come with a great many warnings. Be careful not to touch his bare skin, Shino. Be careful not to handle his clothes or toys—not until he learns better control. He could recall how mother’s face would tense when he and Torune stood too closely for her liking, how father would gently separate them. But Torune had won them all over in the end, with his endless patience and gentle spirit.

Those precious few years where they had all been together, as a family, were his very happiest.

Shino whirled around, deflecting a knife thrown by his mother as he weaved through Torune’s guard, delivering a half-hearted blow with the blunt end of his kunai. He disengaged as quickly as possible, back on the defensive, and continued his retreat. It was like a parody of the spars they had done in the past—play-fighting, really. His mother always knew how to make a game of training.

A fire jutsu cut off Shino’s exit, and he body flickered up the rock face, taking a handful shuriken in the back as he ran—the metal mesh woven into his thick jacket absorbed most of the damage.

It wasn’t fair. He knew how pathetic that sounded, but this absolutely wasn’t fair. Bad enough to have lost them both once already—now he was to take their lives a second time, by his own hand?

This was too much to ask of anyone.

…and he only had one seal.

Shino cleared the ledge, vaulting over the rocks at the top and breaking into a sprint. Distance, he needed distance. As it was, the two of them were keeping him in the middle as they attacked, blocked his exits, and whittled away at him. His mother had been a jounin, and Torune, part of a branch of ANBU. In a way, it was impressive he had survived this long. If he didn’t know better, Shino would think they were holding back… but that simply wasn’t possible.

A wall of rinkaichū rose up in front of Shino, herding him to the left, into an obvious ambush. The rocky plateau seemed to warp under his feet, becoming the path leading up to their home, and the scent of some delicious home-cooked meal was in the air no no it was an illusion—

The kikaichū shocked him out of the genjutsu before it could take, but even that short glimpse had him hesitating long enough for Kintsugi to close the distance between them. She slashed up at his cheek, going for his eyes, and out of surprise from the sheer viciousness of her strike, he retaliated with an absolutely brutal kick. He could feel her ribs snapping. She smiled proudly at him even as she slid backwards. Had she been trying to goad him into such a counterattack? 

“A few more blows like that, and this will be over. I know you can do it, Rolypoly.”

Why did she keep saying that? Didn’t she see that he couldn’t?

Then Torune approached from behind, and Shino was trapped all over again. At least until a bright yellow flash appeared, grabbed him under the arm, and hauled him away—just as Kintsugi and Torune’s attacks converged, where he had been standing a moment before. Shino peered at the figure, glowing with a familiar chakra.

“Naruto?” he asked. The boy shook his head before setting him down.

“A shadow clone,” his classmate explained.

Shino came shakily to his feet.

“I sensed your chakra and it felt like you were in trouble, so I came running,” the clone of Naruto said, grinning. “Looks like I came just in time, huh?”

Shino grimaced. He was exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Still, some part of him wanted to smile—Naruto coming to his rescue, remembering his chakra signature… it was a far cry from the boy who didn’t even remember his name, let alone the prankster he’d been in the academy. Shino was glad his friend was here, even if it was only a shadow clone.

“Those reanimated guys… they looked a little like you,” the clone said. Shino nodded grimly.

“It would be odd if they did not. Why, you ask? Because they are my family.”

The shadow’s clone’s slight smile faded. The look he gave Shino then was sad and understanding, full of empathy.

“The woman… my mother, is a jounin level combatant, specializing in ninjutsu and genjutsu. The other is Torune. The jutsu he’s preparing, a poisonous cloud of insects, will devastate our forces if it is allowed to trigger—these same insects cover his body as well, so you must be careful not to touch him.”

The clone rubbed the back of his head, as if pondering the situation.

“Well, I go poof if I get hit anyway, so all I have to do is not get hit, ya know? Not too different from normal. And, hey, Shino. How about I distract the purple one for a while? Buy you a little time?”

Shino would never admit this out loud, but Naruto had developed some measure of… emotional perceptiveness. He was deeply grateful.

“Thank you,” he said, and Naruto flashed him a grin and a thumbs up before taking off in Torune’s direction.

He was alone for only a short while before Kintsugi appeared.

“Was that the Uzumaki boy? It is good to see he made something of himself.”

Shino almost laughed at her conversational tone. She sounded as if— as if they just happened to not have seen each other in a while, and she had stopped by to catch up on gossip.

“He is surprisingly formidable,” he replied. It wasn’t quite as convincing. There was too much pain in his voice.

“Then he should have no trouble holding Torune off, for a time,” she said, running through a blindingly quick series of hand seals. “You must finish this now.”

She was right, he knew.

Shino took a deep breath, and steeled himself. His kikaichū were an ineffective countermeasure against Torune, but his allies would have no such trouble facing Kintsugi.

The fire jutsu his mother unleashed, a white-hot whip that snaked along the ground, found no target but the open air. Shino practically flew past her, scattering kikai to dampen his chakra signature, utilizing every stealth technique he had ever learned as he hid himself among the rocks and crevices of the uneven terrain. As he darted through cover, insect clone after insect clone emerged, forming a rough circle around Kintsugi. Her fire whip crackled, slicing through two of his clones, then three, leaving the air stinking of burnt chitin. The beetles unharmed by her attack swarmed her, draining her chakra in tiny increments even as she fled faster than they could follow.

Fled, right into his hastily constructed traps. Most of them she managed to avoid. Some misfired, sending their projectiles sailing harmlessly into the distance. But a handful successfully ensnared her, and that was enough.

Here, a length of razor wire cut into the flesh of her calf. There, a kunai buried itself deep into her shoulder. She seemed to be trying to suppress her cries of pain, all for his sake. It was astonishingly difficult to watch.

Not as difficult as it would be to inflict such damage with his own hands, however. And as his supplies rapidly depleted, he knew he would soon have to do just that. He only had the single sealing tag, and it must be applied manually.

But first, he had to disable her.

His chance came when his mother stumbled, the injury to her leg finally catching up with her. He tossed his last knife at her uninjured leg, giving away his position to hopefully immobilize her.

“Please forgive me,” he muttered, as his remaining clones burst, sending their payload of destruction beetles ripping and tearing their way into Kintsugi’s limp form.

“Oh, Rolypoly,” she said, right behind his ear.

She had substituted away—

A knife buried itself in his gut, and twisted.

“There is nothing at all to forgive. Do what you must to this resurrected body. But no matter what, you must live, Shino. Do you understand?”

He only had a moment.

There was no time to say any of what he wanted. No time to tell her how much she meant to him. No time to tell her about his team, about his accomplishments, about how Father was faring, about the state of her jewelry store. There was so much he wanted to say. So much to discuss, from petty little topics, to the most profound.

But he only had a moment.

He turned and wrapped his arms around her, pressing the red seal into the small of her back. He could feel blood oozing from his wound, but didn’t let go of her, not even to apply pressure to it. For a moment, Kintsugi grappled with him, and Shino could almost trick himself into believing she was returning his embrace.

Almost.

Then, travelling outwards from the seal, white script began to rapidly cover his mother’s body, and she went limp his arms. Suddenly, he couldn’t support her weight. When he released her, she crumpled, and was still.

There was nothing but the sound of his own labored breathing.

He clutched at his jacket.

His mother didn’t move. She— she wasn’t moving anymore. He was shaking.

Shino fell to his knees and let out a low, distressed noise—even to his own ears, he sounded like a wounded animal. Gently, he touched his mother’s face.

“Mother?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She was unresponsive, her eyes glassy as she stared through him.

“M-mother?” he repeated. “Can you hear me?”

…

There was no time for this now, he knew.

Sparing Kintsugi one last glance, Shino Aburame ran—either he would help his friends put an end to this war and succeed, or he would join Torune and his mother.

No matter how it ended, there was no room in his hearts for regrets.

[overwatchaos]

[Angst] The Other Side (Overwatch x Reader)

Before we start, there are a few things I need to clear up. First, I’m going to clarify your skills. You’re a support hero. You use portals in combat in ways that help your allies. Also, the only thing I’ll set in stone is your nationality. I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll be Korean. Sorry if the translation isn’t perfect, feel to to correct me.

Ability 1: Portal; You’re able to create a portal in front of you within a reasonable distance. You drop down from the teleporter that is spawned below you and reappear in the new location.

Ability 2: Healing Portal; This creates a larger portal below you that your and your teammates can stand on to regenerate health.

Ultimate: Supporting Portal; Teleports nearby allies in critical health to a nearby health pack or healer. Of course, the flaw is that the health pack/ healer is in the general proximity of the enemy as well as the hero. So they may be moved into a crossfire. The effect will last for 7 seconds and affects allies near to you instead of the area of deployment.

Weapon: 1; A glove which generates the portals. It takes two seconds to get from one portal to another with a cool down of 12 seconds. So use them wisely. 2; You can alternate between the glove and a small sub machine gun that does moderate damage.

How did you get here? Good question. Soldier: 76 thought it would be an outstanding idea to split up the forces of Overwatch. And, somehow, you’d ended up in a strange group with Mcree and Junkrat. However, they had moved somewhere else so you just went solo. Now, you must be wondering, ‘Why are you teamed with the enemy?’ Well, children, due to the abrupt rise of a new, lethal threat that endangered Earth’s existence, the illegally run military had gained some unlikely allies.

So anyway, you currently had the cold barrel of a gun against your forehead. Sweat slid down your temple as the adversary smirked.

“Whoa there.” A southern accent piped up behind you. The cool metal was removed from your skin as Mcree took down the agent with his revolver.

“Little close there, Darlin’. Wouldn’t ya say?” You huffed, slightly peeved that he was teasing you.

“Pff, I had it under control.” Sensing a sniper on the rooftop nearby, you dropped down into a portal and reappeared behind cover. The others followed your lead and avoided the deadly bullets. Stealthily, you snuck up the steps on the side of the broken building and shot the enemy.

“Sniper’s down. We’re good to go.” Atop the house, you had a decent view of the battlefield. Due to your position as support, you have a visor that showed you the well-being of your team. You gasped slightly, only now seeing that all of your friends were at critical health. Glancing at your glove, you noted the charge of your Ultimate.

%100

Scanning the area, you noticed that there was only one health pack. If you used that, your comrades would be teleported to the ship. This struck an idea into your head. Sprinting to the health pack, you turned on your earpiece while firing simultaneously.

“Athena.” You spoke directly to the A.I. “When 23 personell appear on the ship, head straight to Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Operate on full lockdown. Don’t allow anyone to change course, no matter the circumstance.”

“Will do, ma'am.” You switched over to the main voice channel as you reached your destination. Grabbing the pack, you redirected your attention back to the communication system.

“Guys, meet me at my current location in approximately 12 seconds.”

~12 SECONDS LATER~

Around you, 23 Overwatch agents were gathered. It was quiet. Painfully so. They were weak, the healers too tired to heighten everyone’s health. Things were looking grim. If an ambush were to happen, Overwatch would be no more. Unfortunately, a faint stampede of feet could be heard in the distance. That meant one thing.

They were coming.

“God damnit.” You cursed, previously hoping it wouldn’t come to this. “Hey, Junky.”

“Hmm?” Jamison turned to look at you, noticing the strange gleam in your eyes.

“Can I take your Concussion Mine for a bit?” Hesitantly, he handed you said item along with the trigger.

At this point, you could see the enemy closing in. You stare at the ground before speaking in a low tone.

“I’m sorry.”

“자신을 저장!”

Your friends gasp as they rise, feeling the portal pull them to the safety of the aircraft. Multiple calls ring out, begging you not to do this.

“Kid, wait!”

“Darlin’!”

“Sheila, PLEASE!”

You ignore them, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. Pushing them back, you face the mass of solider approaching you, the bomb in your grip. You glance over your shoulder and get one last glance at your family’s pained faces. When they’re fully gone, you turn to the opposition. With a strong mind, you dive into battle.

Killing people left and right, you spot a big cluster of individuals. Swiftly, you dart over before setting off the explosive, taking out many. But, without warning, a grenade rolled to your feet. You crash through a wall before submitting to the comforting grasp of darkness.

——- (3rd Person POV)——-

“Hey Kid! You here?!” A gravelly voice rung throughout the ruins. He stopped as soon as he saw the place they left (Name). The soldier inhaled deeply.

It was a massacre. Corpses littered the grown like leaves. What really caught his attention was a trail of dried but relatively new blood.

“Guys, I think I found her!” The others gathered around him, quieting down their calls. Following the marks, they came across a body.

Her clothes were torn and cuts were scattered on her skin. Suddenly, she jumped to life, coughing. Blood splattered on the pavement, a similar liquid staining her outfit.

“Sheila!” Junkrat was the first to react, rushing to her aid. She opens her eyes slowly, wincing at the exposure to the sun’s beam.

Groaning, she glanced at her arm, feeling the most pain radiating from there. Her already paling skin turned white.

“Well, would you look at that…” (Name) started to check for any other afflictions. Right arm missing, beginning just below the shoulder, a deep stomach wound and multiple bruises and small cuts. Plus some internal bleeding.

“Hey kid, look at me,” She glanced up at Soldier: 76 with difficulty. “You’re gonna get out of this alive, ok? I’ll make sure if it.” Oh, it pained the (Brunette/Blond/ Raven/etc) to see her companions like this, trying so hard to convince themselves that miracles happened.

As stupid as it was, they’d grow attached to the youngest agent. Of course, Hana was certainly happy that she was no longer the baby of the team. With (Name) being (Age Under 18) years old, she took D.Va’s place.

“H-hey, you should head back…” She trailed off, her breathing becoming laboured.

“You’re coming with us, Sheila. Dead or alive.” She smiled slightly, knowing her time was drawing to an end.

“H-Heh, I guess I’ll see you on the other side…” And with that, the light in her eyes was extinguished and her hand went limp,

(Name) was gone.

With this in mind, a few turned to the support heroes, wondering why they didn’t do anything to help. Mercy stepped forward, explaining the reason.

“She was too far gone, helping would only prolong the inevitable. I couldn’t revive her because my ultimate wasn’t ready. I-I’m sorry.” Her face fell and tears welled up in her eyes. She was like the mother of Overwatch and especially close to (Name).

She wasn’t the only one. Nobody had dry eyes, some were better at hiding it though.

Sighing sadly, their explosion-obsessed friend gently picked up the recently deceased before making his way back to the aircraft, the others following with hunched shoulders.

And from that day on, (Name)’s room was never touched. They would rather sleep on the floor if all the rooms were full. They missed her. Badly. She was the light of the team.

But all good things come to an end.