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[thefearedashantis]

Part Time Cupid (pt.1)

Part Time Cupid (Pt .1)

Pairing: Roommate! Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Summary: When Reader's attempts at finding love fall short, she turns to her roommate, Sirius Black, for assistance. As Sirius offers his unique perspective and charm to help her navigate the complexities of romance, unexpected feelings begin to emerge between them, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: possibly body shaming

It’s freezing outside.  Meandering somewhere below twenty, but not enough bite to be single digits. Despite the frosty breeze that slithers through your coat, you’re sweating. Feet cemented to the worn welcome mat in front of your apartment door. Forehead smushed against said doors wooden surface, hand still raised and poised to slot your key into the lock.

That was before your remaining dregs of energy sputtered out, forcing you to stop and take a quick moment to collect yourself. Allow the sweaty sheen glistening over every inch of your skin to dry before going inside where you could make out the muddled noises of your roommate and his friends in the kitchen. Well, they were your friends as well you suppose. But they’ll always be more so his.

If you went in the way you were now they’d be quick to realize you’d walked home. A good twenty minutes scurrying along streets in the part of town you were least familiar with. Looking over your shoulder at every little noise.

When you went inside, you’d have to relinquish your sadness. Split it up and dole it out in sizeable portions for each to carry for you. Which seemed sweet in theory, that the boys would be so willing to shoulder your burdens with you, but not this time. You wanted to hoard this particular melancholy to yourself. Just stew in it for a few minutes longer as if your walk hadn’t allowed for enough self-pity.

You’d never regarded yourself as a particularly interesting person. Not exceptionally pretty nor smart nor charming. You enjoyed staying home on weekends with a good book. Brewing pots of tea around the clock. Binge watching shows with entirely too many seasons and napping when the weather was poorly. You collected special additions of Oscar Wilde' works. Liked baking cookies at three in the morning when the city was asleep. Disliked doctors’ appointments. Unremarkable people get used to fading into the background. It’s how you went nearly your entire school career without much complaint on your lack of new relationships. Platonic and romantic alike.

The only reason you knew the people you did were through childhood connections. Being neighbours’ way back when. Having your parents arrange playdates for you despite knowing you’d scare the other children off. Brandishing bugs from your garden, showing off your double joints or ignoring them entirely. Only one had stood the test of your disposition and had rung you into his circle ever since. You never felt inclined to leave it. Why sit alone every day when you could plop quietly between people who shone brighter than you could ever hope for. Though you didn’t earn them yourself you cherished them as if you had. Prayed even a smidge of their polish would rub off on you in some way. To prove yourself deserving. And here you were six years after graduation living with that steadfast friend. Two next door and another only a block away. Still utterly dull.

This had been your first date in ages. Not for lack of trying. You just simply had no natural gravitation when it came to people. It took five times the average effort on your part to catch someone’s attention let alone keep it. You’d even taken a word of advice and downloaded a few dating apps. Conversations were so much easier to start and carry online, people in the comments vowed. You made your first match. A guy named Frank. Talked with him for a few weeks. Allowed your stomach to flip when he finally asked you on a date. A date you took great care in preparing for. Buying a new dress, religiously watching makeup tutorials, shaving, plucking, buffing. Practicing questions in case conversation slowed. Even eating less the days leading up to save your appetite.

All for it to turn out like this.

You should’ve known better when he was an hour late. The shame you’d felt sitting there waiting while the server cast you pitiful looks still had you clinching your jaw 'til you tasted copper. When he came bustling in wearing attire far too casual for the lavish restaurant he had been adamant on going to. No apology or excuse given.

Still, you smiled it off. At least he’d shown up at all. You’ve been stood up on numerous occasions. Everything was fine for a while after that. Nice even. When he made you laugh with a clever quip or had your heart skipping a beat when his leg brushed yours under the table.

Until it was time to order and he was placing one in your stead before you could even pick up the menu. A salad, dressing on the side, with lemon water. A well-done steak for him, rum and coke. If he wasn’t texting, he was talking about himself. A completely one-sided rant you had no space to interject. When he did rope you in it was to comment on your appearance. You didn’t look how he was expecting, profile photo a tad misleading.

Sure, the picture was a year old. Your hair was dyed but that was the only change as far as you could tell. It was your favourite picture of yourself. One of very few. 

You’d picked at your salad. Ordered no dessert despite desperately wanting to. Fished out your card when asked to split the bill. He’d tried to kiss you on the way out, lead you to his car, but you’d breezed by him and started your trek home.

Could that have possibly been the same person you’ve been texting? The one who would send you photos of his cat and reply attentively while you talked about your day even if you’d done absolutely nothing.

Now here you were, frozen to the door. Enjoying your sorrow to the staticky crackle of the overhead lighting. Fighting back the burn in your throat when your heeled feet begin to ache. The style of your hair yanking on your nerves. Dress constricting, makeup like cake smeared on your face.

You’re so hungry.

“Oh, you’re back earlier than expected!”

Without missing a beat you’re straightening up, shoving down your blues and twirling around with a smile.

It’s James, ambling up the stairs with pizza boxes under his arm. Apparently, he’d run out to grab them not too long ago because it’s faster than delivery.

He’s crowding you immediately. Squeezing you in a quick side hug as was his customary greeting, no matter how little time you’d been apart. All height and curls and warmth. He doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss and makes use of your key abandoned in the lock. Shoving the door open and ushering you inside. “Look who I found!”

You were half right at least. Remus and Sirius are in the kitchen, seated at the table with bits of a puzzle strewn out before them.

Remus looks up with a grin “Little early for you, no?”

The clock above the fridge reads half past nine. How long were they expecting you to be out?

“What did you guys get up to?” you ask, evading the question. You step out of your heels and almost whine at the feeling of cool tile.

Your roommate, Sirius, drags his attention from the pastime then. His wavy pitch hair is pulled up into a tuff on top of his head.  His chin nestled into the palm of his hand while long pale fingers tap away aimlessly at a lightly freckled cheek. Nails neatly trimmed and painted a shimmery black polish.

He crinkles his nose at you “Well, I wanted to do a puzzle, but Moonie and Prongs were against it.”

James steps around you to put the pizzas on the kitchen counter and fish out some plates. “We’re doing your stupid puzzle are we not?”

“Yet you’ve spent more time complaining than actually finding pieces.”

Remus shakes his head with a heavy sigh “You always get annoyed if we don’t start with the edges.”

 Sirius ignores this, “How was your date? What was his name again?”

“Francis?” Remus supplies.

 “No, no, I think it was Farley.”

You’ve hung up your coat, moving to the table. There are no more seats and you don’t want to steal James’ so you hop up onto the cabinet behind Sirius instead. Still close enough for you to press your squashed toes into the base of his spine. Also strategically chosen so he couldn’t see your face throughout their interrogation. “Frank, his name was Frank. And it was good. He was really nice.”

“When’s the next?”

There would be no next.

You force a breezy laugh, “I don’t wanna get too ahead of myself.”

“Ahead of yourself. Did you look in the mirror before walking out that door?” Sirius chides, rummaging through some flipped pieces.

“You did look beautiful.” Remus has gotten up to inspect the pizzas. One Hawaiian, one Meat lovers from the looks of it. He opts for meat lovers, taking a plate from James’ extended hand and unabashedly piling on slices. “I wouldn’t have been able to wait till the end of the date before asking when I could see you again.” 

“You okay?”

You hadn’t noticed when Sirius turned around. But here he is. Face mere inches from your bare thighs as he gazes up at you with a notch between his brows. Did you not look okay?

You smooth the wrinkle out with your thumb “Yeah just a little tired.”

He relaxes a tad, but the concern is still evident at the edges of the dazzling smile he bestows you with “You can tell us about it tomorrow if you want. We’ll be quiet so you can sleep”

James glances over with a look that screams ‘no promises’, red sauce rimming his lips.

“No, its fine. I want to sit with you all for a while.”

“You sure?” And it’s only when he takes your hand and lowers his voice to barely a whisper that you realize you are shaking a little. A minute tremble that racks your entire form “Your hands are cold.”

“Sorry” You don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

Sirius is frowning now. Alarm bells probably ringing off in his head despite your best effort to act normal. You were never a very good liar. “Do you want a slice love?” he asks. The question echoes where he speaks it into your cupped hands. Blowing warm breath onto them and rubbing furiously 'til they tingle.

You do, but the mere idea of having to bite, chew and swallow is exhausting. You just want to curl up in your bed and sleep. The faster you shut your eyes the sooner Franks voice would stop swirling around in your head. 

Misleading.

“No thank you.”

Sirius opens his mouth to speak again when your bubble of quiet is suddenly broken by James’ excited cheer “Corner piece!” He all but slams the bit into its slot.

Remus reminds the other boy to use his inside voice with a fond chuckle. Then his attention is back on you “Where’d he take you?”

You pull your hands away from Sirius, pointedly avoiding his gaze until he turned back to the table “That fancy place in the square where all the waiters have the same haircut.” 

“No way, they’re so expensive! Lily and I have been wanting to go for ages.” James again, speaking as if you weren’t mere inches away from him.

“You guys would enjoy it. They have a four-page dessert menu”

It takes two hours to finish the puzzle. James and Remus more so joking around while you and Sirius pour over it. They grill you for more details on your outing to which you reply with the vaguest yet most upbeat answers you could manage.  The boys stick around for a little while longer discussing some horror movie they wanted to see in theatres before returning to their own apartment unit slightly after midnight. A feeling of relief floods your chest when you shut and lock the door behind them. Finally free to retire from this day after you help Sirius clean up. The two of you make quick work. Wiping the counters. Packing away the puzzle. Washing the dishes and dumping the empty pizza boxes.

You turn to go to your room with a mumbled goodnight but your roommate has other ideas. Tears prickle your eyes when a firm grasp wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.  Sirius guides you back gently into his body, trapping your head under his chin when you shudder. His skin is scolding against yours, rubbing clumsily up and down your spine.

“I’ve known you before you could pronounce your r’s properly,” he mutters into your hair “I’m sorry it didn’t go how you wanted.”

You try to pull away but he won’t allow it. Exasperated by his persistence you grab hold of his sides, gripping them tighter than necessary “It was fine Siri.”

“Alright.”

He holds you hostage there in the dark kitchen until your heartrate begins to slow and your eyes begin to droop, slouching more of your weight onto him with every passing second. He guides you to your bedroom and leaves you to your own devices with another quick squeeze.

You slump into bed without changing or removing your makeup. Something you’ll probably regret later. Sleep evades you however. Instead, you lay there staring at your profile photo. Analysing it. Looking for the differences. When the sun begins to peek through your blinds come morning you finally reach the conclusion that maybe you’ve put on a little weight.

[redgoldsparks]

July reading and reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Practical Anarchism: A Guide For Daily Life by Shuli Branson 

I picked this up after listening to the author's excellent interview on Gender Reveal. I'd never read an explanation of anarchy before and found this one accessible, intersectional, and rich with references to follow up on. Branson's basic argument is for recognizing that the state exists only to perpetuate its own power, and aids citizens only incidentally and when doing so doesn't conflict with maintaining control. In light of this, citizens should seek to gain as much freedom in daily life as they can by supporting community and mutual aid, by refusing hustle culture and separating self-worth from productivity, by spending as much time as they can on things that bring pleasure, joy, peace, and stealing from corporate workplaces among other things. Many sections of this book I found myself simply agreeing with, while other chapters (especially the sections on Work and Art) really challenged a lot of my internalized beliefs. I'm very glad I read this and imagine I will return to it in the future, especially when I'm able to read more on this topic.

How I Attended An All-Guy’s Mixer vols 1-6 by Nana Aokawa (fan translated) 

College students Tokiwa, Asagi, and Hagi are invited to a mixer with some college girls, but when they arrive they are greeted by three handsome boys at their reserved table. It turns out the girls they planned to meet at all work at a cross-dressing bar! Suo is a devastatingly charming and confident prince; Kohaku has a prickly exterior but a soft, shy interior; and Fuji draws smutty fan comics in her free time and is constantly on the lookout for new models. This goofy premise turns into a very sweet and funny slice of life comic as three couples with very different dynamics begin to develop. Sadly, I cannot find these books available in English so I am reading them at a sketchy online site, lol. I hope they get translated at some point because I've been completely sucked in and read four volumes in like 24 hours :3

Barda by Ngozi Ukazu

Barda is the captain of a soldier unit from a torture/hell world called Apokolips. Her backstory includes being kidnapped as a child and tortured into serving as the perfect weapon in a very black and white interplanetary war. Her torturer is an old woman named Granny Goodness. They work for a classic evil emperor named Darkseid, who has the son of his major enemy locked in his dungeons. At the beginning of the book, Barda is told to investigate how this guy, named Scott Free, keeps managing to almost escape. This is challenging material to make something out of. It feels so ridiculous, so campy, so over the top, I had a hard time taking the premise seriously- especially as this torture world has to obey PG-13 movie rules about not showing any blood or actual human mutilation. All that being said, I think Ukazu wrote about the best modern take as you possible could with these characters. The writing is quippy, smart, empathetic; I enjoyed the page layouts, color palette choices, and the emotional arc she takes Big Barda on through the book, even though I wanted it to go a little farther at the end.

We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds

Avery is a queer biracial teen, uprooted from her DC home just before senior year of high school by a family emergency which relocates her and her parents to Bardell, Georgia. Avery's grandmother, Mama Letty, has cancer and the prognosis isn't good. Avery is also fresh from a breakup with her first ever girlfriend. Her early years of high school were ruined by Covid, and she doesn't want to waste her last year as well in a back-woods town. But despite herself, Avery is drawn towards the people of Bardell and the ways she learns their histories tangle with her own. There's Carol, the woman next door, who was Avery's mom's best friend in high school but who know barely speaks to her. There's Carol's daughter, Simone, whose colorful locs catch Avery's eyes immediately. There's Jade, Simone's best friend at school whose family is linked to more than one tragedy in the town's history. And there's Mama Letty herself, who Avery wants to get to know, but time is running out. I read this book in just under a week while on vacation and really enjoyed it! It felt refreshingly grounded and real after some of the YA I've tried and DNFed recently.

Yotsuba vol 10 by Kiyohiko Azuma

Utterly charmed by the entire chapter that's just Yotsuba learning how to cook pancakes. What a good reminder that fine motor control is a learned skill! I also liked how Yotsuba's dad handled a lie about some broken dishes. This is such a great series.

Sunhead by Alex Assan 

In Tel Aviv, teenage Rotem spends her free time hanging out with friends and obsessively re-reading her favorite book, Sunrise, a vampire romance. She doesn't know anyone else into the series and has to wait for the next book to come out in Hebrew. But she does meet another reader, Ayala, who sits out of gym class every single week, sometimes with a Jane Austin novel. Rotem lends Ayala the vampire book and suddenly she has a fandom friend. This book very delicately, and at times wordlessly, explores the way a fictional story can act as a lens for teen questioning of gender and sexuality. The book feels almost memoir like with its groundedness in very real teen emotions and relative lack of external conflict. It's a simple story but beautifully illustrated and relatable.

Witch Hat Atelier vol 12 by Kamome Shirahama

This is an action packed volume that sticks more closely to Coco, which is what I want out of the series. I'm still frustrated by the overload of new characters who I'm struggling to keep tract of. But the art is so stunning I'll probably keep reading.

Otonari Complex vol 1 by Saku Nonomura (fan translated)

Akira is a tall tomboy who befriended a shorter, prettier boy named Makoto in elementary school. In college, they are still inseparable, and many people mistake them for a straight couple- though usually they think Akira is the boy and Makoto the girl. Makoto only adds to this confusion by frequently cross-dressing. I enjoyed the friendship and gender mix-ups, but I don't love how every single secondary character either wants to date one of the two leads, or whats to separate the two leads because their close friendship might prevent them from dating in the future. Get out of their business, randos! They are clearly on a very slow friends to lovers arc, leave them alone to figure out their shit.

Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen read by Vikras Adam 

At the start of this book, in 1959, Andy Mills is at rock bottom. The former San Francisco cop was fired after being discovered in flagrante with another man at a gay bar. He is seriously considering suicide because he can't see any other options. Then a well dressed older woman, Pearl, sweeps into his life and asks him to solve a weeks old murder that occurred on her private Marin estate. Pearl is a lesbian and widow; her wife was the owner of a well known floral soap company and she died under mysterious circumstances. Pearl was unable to call in the police at the time because nearly everyone who lives on the soap flower farm estate is queer. A small group of biological and found family has made a safe, gated community for themselves- safe, that is, until one woman fell to her death from a second floor balcony. Andy isn't too hopeful about solving a case with little to no evidence, but he gives it a try, and he is blown away by seeing multiple queer couples living opening together in the same household. This was a solid story, though it didn't have that magic spark that sometimes captures me in murder mysteries. I was all ready to say I probably wouldn't continue the series, and then a 15 minute sample of the second book played after the end of the first in the audiobook. The second one already sounds MUCH more fascinating than the first, in part because Andy starts the sequel in touch with an intriguing queer community and setting up a new PI business. So I might try the next book after all!

Mabel McKay: Weaving the Dream by Greg Sarris 

A wonderful, lively memoir of Pomo basket weaver and medicine woman Mabel McKay, as written by Greg Sarris, who knew her for most of his life until she passed in the early 1990s. Sarris is currently the chairman of the Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria based in Sonoma County which serves the local Pomo and Miwok populations. Sarris is very much also a character in this story, which lays out many conversations had on long car rides up and down the California coast, while Sarris drove McKay to give talks at universities and museums or to visit her relatives. The story is non chronological but still immersive, telling of McKay's childhood, her early years doctoring and making baskets, and her life-changing friendship with Essie Parrish, another basket weaver and important figure in Sonoma county. I'd highly recommend this book, especially to anyone interested in West Coast history, and very especially if you grew up in California.

[armand1481]

You are so fucking fake. I used to follow you because I rembered you from ArtistoftheMillenia and I thought you were talented but I unfollowed after all this dumb shit drama started bcus I realized how fucking obnoxious you are as a person. First of all, “UWU pwease don’t call me Amadeo it twiggers my twauma :(“ what a load of bullshit. Trauma my fucking ass, the internet has rotted your brain like all the other fake asf chronically online ass people and made you believe you have tRaUmA, No. You got an opportunity any young artist would kill for being featured on a big YouTubers channel and all u can think to do is whine and be ungrateful bcus UWU my trauma WAAAAH. Makes my fucking blood boil. I don’t see what was so fucking traumatizing for you, getting to learn from one of the most talented artists of our age? What the fuck kind of trauma is that? And putting aside that bullshit, the way you talk and write is INFURIATING. It’s SO clearly fake that it makes me want to throw up from embarrassment. You talk like some pseudo gothic cringy emo kid who wants to come off as deep and smart and uses words like “purge” on fucking tumblr and talks in a forced monotone voice so ppl think ur more interesting then u actually r. CUT THAT SHIT OUT, everyone can tell it’s an act and it’s so embarrassing. And yes I’m choosing not to be anonymous for this bcus now you can’t shame me for being a coward and sending anon hate. I don’t give a fuck if u know who I am and your fans harass me, I don’t give a fuck. That’s how much you piss me off

The world would be improved if you just fucking killed yourself now and did us all a favor by PURGING society of the useless waste of space and air that you are, you anti intellectual dog shit, you pollute culture and you pollute art. You are nothing. Your inability to analyze anything beyond the most baseline surface level shit that is right in front of you is dispicable, you fucking idiot. Your idiocy shocks me.

Marius did give me wonderful opportunities but he also GROOMED ME, and I mean so very literally, he sexually exploited me and abused me. You are an idiot to believe that you understand the whole situation just by the glimpse you saw of us on the internet. Also, I’d like you to know that I’m fucking autistic, and the reason I seem “fake” to you (are you twelve years old? I wouldn’t be surprised) is because my autism makes me speak and behave in ways people find unnatural or forced. I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you. I wish I could kill you myself but unfortunately you live quite far away from me and I’m too busy to book a flight. However, someone else could always do it for me.

Palais Garnier, 8 Rue Scribe, 75009 Paris, France

Lock your doors you stupid cunt.

[paradoxcase]

@wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess:

A couple things: Pash and Cam/Pal eliminated all the Merv Wing folks, so this is We Suffers branch. The security measures they put in place I think assumed ‘Sweet Simple Nona’ and not ‘Eldritch Monster Nona.’

I mean, I feel like they were expecting her to be an eldritch monster since they were still shooting her? Well, someone at some point said to disengage, but that was after they all lined up outside the room to shoot at her

There is definite debate over who is saying ‘Fool. You’re killing her.’ In this instance, I personally think the ‘her’ is Harrow (her body) and I think it’s said by some piece of Gideon still in there to the overarching Nona. But I am probably massively wrong.

Well, it makes me feel better that that question is never actually answered in the book, since I don't have any better idea, either

I think you are spot on about Nona’s tantrum reminds Pyrrha of. And if the body horror of the opening part of this chapter is any indication…oh my.

Yeah, back in Harrow the Ninth I wasn't sure what the Lyctors meant about Alecto being monstrous since by all accounts she seemed to have a regular human body and they seemed to think she was a regular human. But if she sometimes treated her body the way Nona treats her body here, I can see them saying that

‘Remembering her teeth’ simply means she’s about to start tearing flesh with them pretty soon, I think!

Oh, like since she's feeling like her body is foreign to her right now, she's only sometimes remembering what body parts she has that she can use to express her anger?

At its core, most folks think the cause of this third tantrum was Nona being chained/tied/zipped/locked up. And there are definitely a couple of characters who might reasonably be enraged about waking up tied to a chair or bed in a locked room. Interesting too that Nona holding the chair leg is described as holding it as if it were a broadsword if I recall correctly.

Hmm, it says she brandished it "like a sword", but I don't know if that's enough to indicate Gideon? I think Nona has said that she's familiar with Camilla's swords, right?

And yeah, I mean, I would probably freak out too, if someone ziptied me to some chairs. I can see why BOE maybe thought that was a smart idea since they tie them up when bringing them to the facility, too, but still.

@eye-lantern:

For the strength thing, to me it's like neural adaptation and hysteric strength. Our mind muscle connexion has a set strain that it can inflict on muscles and tendons to avoid us injuring ourselves. Powerlifters and athletes train to add muscle mass but also to make this limit adapt closer to their max strength, but it mostly stays below permanent damage. Some lifters clean break their tendons, tear muscle fibers by going to hard. After Eddy Hall lifted 500 p he fainted and had to be hospitalized. During that one biggest effort they deploy strength way beyond what a non lifter can exert per kg of muscle. Nona can go further, and absolutely destroy her body to create impossible proportional strength. Hitting a door with all you strength would do little because you hit under the strength you will shatter your bones at, but Nona's hits would render her unable to move. Because she has no instinct of preserving her own body.

Thanks, that's interesting! And Nona destroying her body this way still doesn't stop her because she has the Lyctor healing ability, so as long as she doesn't damage herself faster than her body can heal she can just keep going

@wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess:

yeah, I feel like we are really seeing a sort of mental breakdown of John here, at least a bit. Cassieopia was so right. You can save the world, or you can have revenge. You can't do both. John says he wants both, but I personally think he was so so so angry about the trillionaires that he couldn't think straight.

Yeah, it's making more and more sense that John is Gen Z - I feel like so many younger online spaces are sort of focused on people being angry and less on like, what can we do to help. Maybe that's just how it is when you're younger, but I don't remember being that angry when I was a teenager? And like, we had stuff to be angry about, that was back when Dubya was in office and doing the "War on Terror" because of the "WMDs" that turned out not to actually exist and so forth. But I feel like I see more irrational anger like this in some places now

[sleepdeprivedshift]

Night gets left alone with his thoughts. It takes him until the clock strikes midnight for him to come back. Right, right.

Lock in, Night. Lock in.

As with every shift, he expects a phone call as he settles in. Almost on cue, on time, it rings and he answers. A recorded message, as he expects, fills the silence in the office.

A voice of a young man plays, with Night leaning over to hear him right with his fingers clicking over cameras and searching for what's available for him.

"Uh hello?" The recording asks, Night thinks the caller sounds younger than him. "I think it's recording. When was the last fucking time someone used one of these things? It’s shitty."

Night could almost make out what's happening behind the scenes. A shuffle of a few papers, and a clear of the throat.

"Well, hello. Welcome to your first night at- at Benjamin’s! My name is—" The phone then makes an unintelligable noise, successfully cutting off his name. Night hits the base of the device with a light smack. Guess some of these technologies are a bit old school. "—I’m here to give you the training to, uh, manage this job."

The caller then tells Night all he needs to know for his shifts. First nights are always easy, they don't tell you that directly but it's always implied. At least he's acquainted with some of these bots already.

Ferris, according to the phone, is just apparently always online. Which, isn't a diss on Night's part, but more of a funny joke. What is he, a smart appliance? (Well yeah he's a robot.) Fuck he gotta be connected to the 'net for, y'know? Fucking... I-pad baby or something.

Night's kidding, though. Mostly. Just enough that Ferris isn't near to hear his thoughts.

But it's easy enough to keep him away at least.

The change in demeanor would've frightened most guards, Night guesses. One hour ago the ferret was almost too eager to meet a new guy in the arcade, and now he's almost too eager to meet the new guy. Face to face. Teeth to skin.

But again, it's easy.

Night plays cues, a little sound he's actually getting fond over, and slows the ferret as much as he could. When he does come around to take a gander at what Night might be at his shift, he greets him with a little shut of the door. He's a little lucky that his ears are good, that knock saves him power and his dead life.

But Ferris isn't the only one he's babysitting tonight, and every other night from now on.

Riley peeks around shyly, but morbidly curious. It's just the door, like Ferris, except he doesn't have to look over her all the damn time. But that's about the end of who he's (currently) familiar with.

Benjamin Bear and Maya Mouse, of who the call so graciously tells him, who they are and what they do. Close the door again when Maya's camera goes dark, play a cue, and just- fucking book it if the main man shows up. Cool, but he takes note of Friedrich's words a bit ago, that they don't leave as much as the other two.

It's still good to keep an eye and ear out.

Especially when he's suddenly forced to just use his ears. Around four to five in morning, the puppet takes over his fucking camera system like a child forcing you to pay attention. Night can see right above its stupid head is a stupider ghost giving him the middle finger as if he couldn't see. He flips the thing off with a disregard whether or not it could see.

Night jingles his keys over the camera the next night just to fuck with it.

Again, it's still easy.

And it stays easy, for the first night until the third. Although they've tried getting funny with him, and he's not sure if he appreciates it.

On the second night, his power almost drains out. (Karma for that boo boo key joke.) Not enough to blackout though. Just barely hanging by five percent to the clock to chime by six in the morning. He had to stay back on the third for an injury that took him by surprise.

Night didn't see it coming, nor did he even hear it. It just- happened so fast. So much that he's still in shock from what just happening, breathing heavily with his back pressed up against his seat, hands shaking as one folds over the other, bleeding over his work clothes and all over these papers that aren't even his.

Ferris got in, plain and simple. Like a ferret jumping out of the grass, and into Night's office. And he moves, of fucking course, lunges over his fucking desk to reach the button. It wasn't quick enough, fucking obviously.

The bastard clawed his hand (almost off), and Night's for sure going to get in trouble for damaging Ferris. His paw pressed the button again before the door could even get down in time, and Night had to kick it as he scrambled for his hand to not get taken out fully. He doesn't keep any flesh lost once he resets, so he has to be careful.

After deciding for a good while whether to keep going, he takes the easy way out and restarts his whole shift all over again. That way, whatever damage he did to the fucking ferret doesn't cut out of his paycheck and ruin whatever good reputation he has as a guard.

This is his first fucking week here. He's not even half way.

He gets through it anyway, (cheater), and keeps going. Door closes, door opens, a cue plays opin a room farthest from the office, a cue plays a little closer, door closes, door opens, Night leaves, Night comes back.

Door closes, door opens.

This shit doesn't even deter the bots either. They started to get more frantic, more active, more... hungry.

It's not the first time Night has had to multitask like a maniac to keep all of his limbs in tact, but fuck, has it been a long time for him to come back to it after calm nights all year long. He almost feels as if he was a newbie again.

But when six am hits again for the fourth time, he's not that concerned anymore. It's the first week jitters, he'll get over it.

-Is what he WOULD SAY IF HE DIDN'T KNOW NO BETTER.

Night loses his momentum again, getting too cocky for getting used to his rhythm of looking over these guys. The power also plays games with him, much like night three, but as much as he tries to save up, it dies on him.

At the worst time too, he's supposed to be out right now to hide from Benjamin. He's shut inside with his only entrance and exit closed down from an encounter with Riley. It's pitch black in this saw trap of a room. Night's flashlight is dead too. Shit, should he start over?

With his newly scarred hand holding over his pendant, giving him his only source of light. Bright blue and wispy. Night's eyes focus on it before his ears perk up at a scraping noise in front of him.

Claws, he can barely see with the small light illuminating it. He can hear mechanical whirring and steady breathing that he can't tell if it's his. Night's not going crazy. The door is opening. Slowly.

It's too dark still to find the hands of his wristwatch. He's not sure if he trusts the digital clock on the desk just yet. The hand prying the door open is still trying. No, not even trying. He's actively, and painfully, slowly pulling this door open.

Night can see Benjamin's eyes search for him through the dark. They meet him easily, with his gifted pendant's light giving him away. His grip tightens on it.

Benjamin looks over at his light, then at Night. He stares back in respect, but he starts to shift himself to his coporeal form. His feet don't touch the ground as he mentally prepares to start over.

The door's almost snapped open halfway, and Night holds his breath. To his luck, Benjamin does too. His eyes look up at him, and for a brief moment, Night could see them.

Another pair of eyes behind animatronic made ones, almost the same as the one behind the puppet's. A shine on Benjamin's eyes, ghost blue light reflecting on the plastic ball. Ghosts stare at one another.

Night doesn't believe in anything above or below him, just that nobody deserves to be trapped in a life they can't escape. But for a brief second, he simply prays that he could make it another day with all his limbs to learn more. Explore, find, and eventually talk to these spirits.

Because fuck, if any soul deserves to stay on this world for long rather than pass on, it should be him.

Something answers his prayers though. A chime, a familiar tune playing in the room as both he, and Benjamin, look down on the digital clock. Six in the morning, and his wristwatch a minute late. Maybe he should trust this clock.

In respect to the silent agreement between all animatronics, or a built in safety program, Benjamin backs away from the door and he walks away, leaving Night backed up against the wall to drop onto the floor in relief. His limbs physical and in tact with the solid world around him once more.

He doesn't think about how close he's gotten to dying again in the arcade because he's slipped up, or how he's lost his edge to keeping everything in check. No, he thinks about Benjamin, who's in Benjamin. Then whoever's in the Prize Puppet. And all other hidden souls that haven't gotten the chance to slip up the same way he has.

To uncover themselves unknowingly to a living ghost. That's fascinating. He's hooked, definitely.

When Friedrich comes in the later morning to let him out, Night doesn't open his mouth about what ne saw back there. There's no point in saying it. After all, he already knows the older man doesn't believe in it, or rather chooses not to. He was already dismissing an assumption that Night didn't even have.

What he does tell him though, is that they need a new door. As well as he's coming back on Monday.

Congrats Benjamin's Arcade, you've gained a new part of the crew. And he's not going to fuck around to find more of it.

[sabraeal]

in a world of locked doors, she's an open window; Part 1

[Read on AO3]

There are few things Gojo could say he is unequivocally— naturally— good at. There's school— that’s what Kitagawa-san would tell him, pointing at his middling scores, ones that always make the board but never quite the top. But that isn’t natural talent; no, that is the result of weeks of study, of all the small bites he takes each night to help digest the whole.

And sewing too— that’s what Ji-chan would say. Or rather, you make a fine mebina, Wakana, accompanied by an affectionate pat on the shoulder— if he could still reach— but what he means is the clothes they wear. And he might be right, but…

But Gojo remembers the pile of small kimono he had to remake those first few months while he struggled to understand ‘cutting on the bias.’ Or how the first pattern he drafted refused to fit together at the shoulder, mismeasured so badly that Ji-chan had sat at his elbow for his next attempt, gently reminding him to mind both size and proportion. Not to mention those first costumes he made Kitagawa-san— forgetting that unlike dolls, humans needed to move in their clothes, needed to breathe, and…

And sometimes he simply wonders if, unlike everyone else, he doesn’t have talents so much as struggles he simply got better at handling. Or didn’t, considering how half a year away from graduation he still can’t get the eyebrows to sit right on this kashira.

“It’s good, Wakana,” Ji-chan grunts, shuffling behind him. “I’d be proud to put a doll like that on display.”

Gojo squints, tracing the curve of his brush. “It’s not like yours.”

Laughs do not so much bubble up from Ji-chan as they do burble, like a stream squeezing itself through the gravel in his throat. “And why would it be? Don’t you know how long have I been at this?”

“Forty—?”

“Fifty!” Ji-chan barks, setting a stack of loose-bound books on the table before he settles under it. “It’s fifty this year. And even if I didn’t have all those years on you…”

No kashira painter holds the brush the same way. A fair point, if Gojo didn’t objectively hold his worse. “What are those?”

Ji-chan blinks, staring down at those books as if he hadn’t seen them before. “What? These? They’re the accounts. Sales, purchases, that sort of things. You’ve seen them around, haven’t you?”

Once, when he was still able to wriggle into Ji-chan’s lap. He’d let him flip through it, marveling at the endless pages of cramped characters— and closed it when Gojo had squinted at a few strokes and tried to stumble through the words. They’re notes for me, he’d sniffed, dust whuffing up from the pages, not everyone has to be able to work them out.

“I though you would have switched to, er…” Gojo clamps his teeth around the word, digital. The shop might have a website— one designed by his uncle nearly fifteen years ago now, when he insisted that any legitimate business needed an online presence— but Ji-chan still wouldn’t get an email address. “I didn’t realize you still had, um, physical copies.”

“There’s nothing wrong with doing it by hand,” he huffs, hunching over his arms. “And now when that accountant comes, I can just hand him the whole thing. No fuss at all! Not like with those file things.”

Gojo can’t bring himself to mention that using 'one of those file things' would mean the accountant didn’t have to come to them. Then again, knowing Ji-chan, that would be yet another tally in the ‘con’ category— much as he might like to say that he preferred to stay at the studio, surrounded by familiar faces, Ji-chan could spend hours on quick trips to the corner store, coming back not only with the ingredient for dinner, but whose grandson just went to medical school, or which neighbor's daughter is having yet another bundle of joy.

Instead, he manages, “We have an accountant?”

“Of course! You don’t think I do all this math myself, do you?” Ji-chan laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a smart kid, Wakana, but you got that from your grandmother. I might have done all the work, but she was the one who kept the lights on.”

His hand sweeps over a hard cover, a fond smile chasing on its heels. Gojo’s tongue twists, useless in his mouth, and— and it’s not often that they talk about it, about what it was like before. Before it was just them, trying to make the empty space feel like home. He wants to say something, should say something, but he’s never known how to put this sort of thing into words— how to say, I miss them too and I’m glad it was you all at once.

“And now I have to pay someone else to make sure I don’t muck it up.” Ji-chan pats the cover with a rueful chuckle. “Costs a pretty penny too!”

Gojo frowns, setting the kashira aside in its canisters. “Can I see one of those?”

Ji-chan blinks. “If you’d like.”

“I would.” He slides the ledger across the table, hefting the cover open. Ji-chan’s spiky scrawl stretches across every page, too much at first, too messy, but then--

Then they setting in into neat columns, numbers running up one side of the page and labels down the other.

There may not be much that comes naturally to him, but holding this ledger in his hands, seeing how the rows tally and the columns coalesce into concrete answers— this decision finally does. “I think I could do this.”

Ji-chan glances up from across the table. “Wakana?”

“For—for the shop,” he clarifies, tongue tripping over itself to keep up with his thoughts. “I think I could learn to do this.”

It’s silent for a moment, both of them sitting utterly still, Ji-chan’s wide eyes not even blinking.

“Well,” he creaks, after a moment. “Do you think that’s something that needs a degree?”

*

It all falls together quite quickly, after that. There’s relief on his homeroom teacher’s face when he stops by the office, the fabric of his uniform pants scratching his palms as he tells her he’s changed his mind about university. There’s the exams of course— and a round of cram school in the fall, expensive enough that Gojo feels balanced on a knife’s edge, wondering if the money they might save will ever equal what he’s spent trying to learn.

Kitagawa-san only laughs when he worries.

“I guess I’ll just have to cosplay twice as much.” It’s hard to take her seriously when she’s taking bites from a burger the size of her own head; a promotional item she’d dragged him into the heart of Saitama to try. “Then you’ll break even like nothing!”

“I only charge you for materials, Kitagawa-san,” he reminds her. Expensive ones, sometimes, but it’s worth it to see the way she lights up, looking at herself and seeing someone she loves.

“Well, you should let me pay you for your labor or whatever, my dude!” Her hand whips across the table, smacking his shoulder hard enough to make him jump. “Maybe then Juju-chan won’t say I’m a total mooch.”

Freeloader, that’s the word Inui-san uses. And once, more memorably, deadbeat. “I couldn’t…”

“Whaaat?” Kitagawa-san nearly launches herself over the table to stare at him, a smear of some condiment at the corner of her mouth. He tries— uselessly— not to stare. “Why not?”

“Ah…” His mouth works, trying to wrap itself around a reason. Because you were my first customer— too sterile, not a lie but dodging the truth enough to make his shoulders itch. Because you’re my friend— but he has others now, ones that do pay him in full, and she knows it. Because you were my first friend— still not quite true.

Because there’s no better payment than to see you happy. Ah, that’s— that’s not something he can say either. Maybe Amano-san could; he was charming, able to say the most heartfelt words like a performance. But Gojo— Gojo could only sound earnest, and she would be able to hear it, all the other words he can never say, and—

“Oh,” he murmurs, holding up the menu between them. “Did you see they have desserts?”

*

For so long— maybe even earlier than primary school, earlier than the day his only friend ran out the door with tears in her eyes— it felt as if every door had been locked against him. As if even asking to open a window in this room he’d made for himself was an imposition, a burden that could only be begrudgingly carried, and never for long. And then Kitagawa-san had come, dragging him out into the light of day, showing him how to do more than ask for some elbow room, but take up space, and—

And so it’s strange now to watch how the very stars align to make all this happen. A few extra commissions roll in just in time to make cram school not only break even but put him in the black again. He only sits in three exams— all of them to colleges either in or near enough to Saitama to allow him to still stay with Ji-chan— sweating through each one only to find himself posted on every acceptance list. He chooses the closest, and—

And now he’s here, seated toward the back of the lecture hall, squinting at the screen, trying to discern whether that's some new mathematical symbol on the teacher's notes or a flaw in the screen.

“Gojo-kun. Gojo-kun.” He glances sternly from the corner of his eyes, sighing at big dark ones staring back, half-black, half-red ponytails bobbing. “Do you have an eraser?”

Darting a glance toward the front of the hall— the professor is still elbow deep in his explanation— he fishes one out from his bag.

“Thanks,” Sugaya-san chirps. “Hey, this lecture hall is pretty full, huh? Weird.”

It’s the beginning of the semester, he wants to tell her—would, if they weren’t supposed to be in class. Most of these diligent academics will peel away over the next few weeks, until only he and a handful of other students scattered across the seats in the hall. Something Sugaya-san might know, if she hadn’t spent last year doing the same thing. Or at least she had in the classes they shared, taking shifts at her family’s restaurant and begging notes off him instead.

“You know what?” Her head tilts, thoughtful. “I think I gotta pee. Watch my stuff?”

“Sugaya-san!” he hisses, whipping toward her. “Class is almost—!”

It’s no good, her chair is already empty— aside from the bag slung over its back— the door to the classroom snicking shut at her heels. Gojo sighs, shaking his head. No wonder she and Kitagawa-san are friends; neither of them can sit still for a minute.

“If you have any questions” —Gojo’s head snaps to the front of the class, watching as the professor turns off the display, a handful of students already on their feet— “Please comes to the front. These problems will be on your exam.”

There’s only a trickle of his classmates that wind their way to the professor’s desk, most of them preferring to hurry out the door. Gojo’s tempted to join them; there’s only an hour until his next class, his only opportunity to eat before he gets home this evening. Enough time for a leisurely lunch, if he brought a bento or ran out to get one from the konbini around the corner, but—

But it’s the longest break in his whole schedule, and the only one that coincides with one in Kitagawa-san’s. Kitagawa-san, whose break is one and a half hours and likes to try something new each day. He just has to hope his meal comes quick enough that he can sit and eat.

Gojo glances down at Sugaya-san’s bag, slung over the seat. He can’t just leave her things here. But maybe he could take it with him-- she' eats with them after all, and he'd be saving her the trouble of carrying it to the restaurant--

“Wacchan?”

His muscles seize so quickly he nearly chokes. He’s…he’s hearing things. He must be.

His knuckle blanch where he grips his bag, bone white against navy blue. Maybe, it’s for someone else. Yes, someone else. No one’s called him that since—

“Wacchan?” There’s a laugh— not familiar, not as a woman’s voice, but he recognizes it anyway. Would have recognized it anywhere, even in a crowd, since it had been his favorite sound when— “Sorry, no one probably calls you that anymore. Maybe…Wakana-kun?”

Gojo’s head jerks up, and he— he must be mistaken. There’s no way that he— that she— that those eyes could be so familiar, not even if it’s her. Not when…when it’s been so long…?

“E-excuse me. Do I…?” Know you feels…abrupt. Terse. Curt, even. But he’s not sure what else he can say, not when his eyes keep trying to add a small side tail to the side of her bob, when what keeps echoing in his head is—

Why do you like girls’ dolls, Wacchan? You’re a boy. His breath comes barbed now, sticking spines into his chest each time takes one in. I hate you, Wacchan!

“Ah…” He clears his throat, a half dozen of those little spikes clattering down his windpipe. “Have we…met?”

Her head cocks, the once too-short bangs now perfectly cut to slip across her forehead. “Have I really changed that much?” Her mouth curves, mischievous. “You wouldn’t forget your best friend, would you?”

“N-n”— it’s terrible how easy the shape comes to his mouth, like it’s been waiting— “Non-chan?”

Her mouth rounds, matching the wide shape of her eyes, and he claps a hand over his own. “Sorry. I mean…Mizuno-san. It’s…nice to see you again.”

He says it politely-- friendly even. The way Ji-chan does when he can’t quite place a customer. But her forehead scrunches up, and— what if she cries? Right here, where anyone might hear, calling him a freak or a— a degenerate, or even—

“Mizuno-san?” she sighs instead, disappointed. “Are you really going to call me that?”

“I c-can’t just call you, N-n” —his voice drops to a whisper— “Non-chan. You’re not…we’re not little kids. It wouldn’t be…appropriate.”

Her lip juts out, just the way it used to. “Well…you don’t have to be so formal, do you?”

He makes an uncertain noise, more cornered animal than grown man, but she only stares up at him, eyes so wide, so expectant, he blurts out, “A-are you in this class? I haven’t…um…seen you…”

“I hadn’t either until today. I usually sit a little further back.” She gestures vaguely toward the other end of the room. “But I saw you sit down— you’re really tall, you know? Way bigger than most guys— and I was sure I recognized you. I worried that it might be too weird to say something— it’s been a long time right? And guys’ faces change so much— but then I saw, well…”

Her chin jerks to the open flap on his back, right where black hair and an enigmatic smile peer out from the pocket— his latest kashira, not the least bit hidden. “Ah! Oh…I…haah…”

“Your grandfather still runs that place, doesn’t he?”

“Um…” Gojo clears his throat, fists clenching tight around the back’s strap. “Yes. He does.”

Mizuno-san lets out the lightest laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corner, and all at once, it’s real. It’s her. Non-chan. Only older now, grown up in a way he’s not sure he’s achieved. “I guess that means you really are going to get saddled with that place, huh?”

“I…” It’s true; the shop will be his when Ji-chan retires— if he ever does— but there’s something about how she says that— saddled— that doesn’t sit right. That feels less like an honor but an obligation. “I don’t—”

“Ah, hey, Gojo-kun!” A small hand smack him in the vicinity of his shoulder, falling a few inches short of the goal. “Thanks for watch my stuff, bro. Want to…”

Sugaya-san trails off, eyes darting to where Mizuno-san stands, smile wide but eyes tight. “You…uh…good, my man?”

“Yes,” he lies. “Ah, I just…Mizuno-san, er…we…uh…”

“Didn’t I just say you didn’t need to call me that?” she laughs, not as bright as before. “I’m Mizuno Nobara. Wacchan and I went to elementary school together.”

Sugaya-san’s perfectly plucked eyebrows disappear behind the sharp horizon of her bangs. “You did.”

“Yes,” Mizuno-san says tightly. “You must be…one of his friends?”

“Sugaya.” She glances at him, too quick, before adding, “Sugaya Nowa. We met in high school. Through Marin-chan! Who, uh, just texted.”

Gojo blinks, fumbling with his pockets. He hadn’t even thought to look, not even when class got out. “She did?”

“Yeah, while I was peeing.” She flicks on her phone, squinting down at the screen. “She says there’s some place she’s been dying to try out around the corner. We can meet her there.”

“Oh.” He glances up at the classroom clock, wincing at the time. “We should hurry if we don’t want to be last for ethics.”

“Ethics,” she groans, throwing back her head. “Last thing I want to talk about after lunch is like, hostile takeover stuff. We shoulda taken the morning one.”

With infinite patience, he reminds her, “It was at eight o’clock.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Oh, you have plans?” Mizuno-san asks, mouth settling into a grimace. “I thought if you were free we might go catch up, but…?”

“Yep yep.” Sugaya seizes his arm like pet birds take to a perch, fingernails digging in hard enough to turn his half-started sentence into a squeak. “Super set. Like, written in stone kinda can’t-move-it. Ritual disembowelment type thing.”

“Oh.” Mizuno-san’s wide eyes linger on him, wistful. “Some other time, I guess.”

“Y-yes! Definitely.” He tries a smile, but by Sugaya-san’s grimace, he’s wide of the mark. “That would be…nice?”

“Okie dokie time to go,” she sing-songs, dragging him out by the arm. “Nice to meetcha, childhood friend-chan. Seeya next time!”

*

There's a strange taste in his mouth as they leave the lecture hall, a nagging feeling that he has somehow missed something important. He means to ask Sugaya-san once they've gotten outside, but--

But Gojo’s barely put a whole foot into the hallway when there’s a squeal of sneakers against polished floor; his only warning before arms wrap right around his middle, fake nails catching on the fabric at his stomach. “Gojo-senpai!”

“K-kitagawa-san!” His hands hover useless over her cross arms, uncertain of how to untangle himself from her. “I-I told you that you don’t have to c-call me that.”

“Awww, but it’s true, my dude!” Her whole weight slumps against his back, warm and wiggling, like an overexcited puppy. Which he wouldn’t mind, not at all, except— except her underwire digs into his spine, a firm reminder of just what is pressed against him, and well…

Well, he’d like to be able to think for the duration of this conversation, that’s all. Not lose track of every word she says two syllables in as his brain forced him to imagine what it might look like if he had the neck flexibility to appreciate it. “I appreciate that, Kitagawa-san, but—”

“But I’m your kouhai,” she pouts, chin hooking around his elbow. “And you’re my senpai. Omigod, does that mean you should be taking care of me? Wait, that sounds so funny right? ‘Gojo-senpai, please take care of—’”

“We’re the same age!” Heat licks up his neck, stained pink as a shrimp’s shell. “I don’t think the same rules apply just because you, er…”

Started late. That’s what he meant to say. But it feels…rude, the way late bloomer had felt when his teachers had whispered it between their desks. Like somehow she’s behind because she’d spent a whole year flying around, doing exactly what she loved and getting paid for it.

“Huh? Why not?” Her head cocks, the grip she has on him loosening. Physically, at least. “You’re still my senior, aren’t you? I mean like, if we didn’t know each other, I’d totally call you senpai, and everyone would think that was like, super normal and stuff, so—”

“Marin-chan,” Sugaya-san sighs, pigtails tilting over her shoulders. “You’re torturing him again.”

“Whaaat?” He shivers when she steps back, hands hooked around her hips, a chill seeping up his spine. “I’m not! Totes not. Right, Gojo-senpai? Not torture at all, nu-uh.”

“Ah…” She turns huge eyes on him, so hopeful, and all he can manage is a half-hearted, “K-kitagawa-san…”

“Mah-ri-ne.” Sugaya-san pulls out each syllable, impatient. “Are we going to eat or what?”

“Uh, yes? I’m starving, my dude!” Kitagawa-san prances around him, sneaker squeaking as she twirls to his front. “You’re starving too, right, Gojo-kun?”

Gojo clear his throat. That’s better at least. “I…could eat.”

“Then let’s bounce!” She claps, smile blinding over her steepled fingers. “Where should we go? I just saw a guy like two days ago selling those meat-wrapped onigiri across from the student center or whatever, so maybe—”

“Ah!” Panic grips him at the thought of her cholesterol. “I thought…didn’t Sugaya-san say you had a place in mind?”

Kitagawa-san blinks. “I did?”

“Didn’t you?” His gaze darts to where Sugaya-san stands, too innocent.

“Sorry, bro.” Neither her words nor her shrug are the least bit contrite. “Thought it looked like you needed a rescue, so I did what I had to do, you know.”

He, in fact, does not know, but before he can inform her of the fact, Kitagawa-san’s eyes go huge in her face. “Rescue?” She’s practically starry-eyed, glancing between the two of them. “You needed to be rescued?”

“N-not as—”

“Sure looked like it,” Sugaya-san tosses over her shoulder, ambling down the hall. Her stride is two steps to Kitagawa-san’s one, and with hers one to his two, well— it doesn’t take long to catch up. Not when Kitagawa-san is so interested, at least. “Some girl came up to him after class. Said she was his childhood friend and then tried to get him to a secondary location and everything.”

“I-I don’t think you need to say it l-like that—”

“Secondary location?” Kitagawa-san breathes. “Childhood friend?”

“You looked uncomfortable,” she drawls, unconvinced. “So I did what anyone would do: lie a whole bunch and hope it works. Which it did! You can thank me any time.”

He nearly does, mouth already halfway wrapped around the word before he stops himself. “Mizuno-san wasn’t—”

“She was.”

“I don’t—”

It’s too much for Kitagawa-san; a squeal is his only warning before she bursts out with a shrill, “Oh-em-gee!”

Her hands clap over her mouth. “A friend? From when you were kids? That’s unreal, Gojo-kun!”

He can’t quite guess how; it always seemed as if everyone had one but him, as if he were the odd one out for not having a group of friends from middle school he struggled to keep up with, but—

“Omigod, you should invite her! To lunch I mean!” Kitagawa-san bounces on her toes, not so much walking as skipping beside him. “We’d get to hear all about what you were like in school? Ahhh, how fun would that be, right?”

Her cheeks are flushed, eyes shining, and yet his stomach twists, even though he can’t account for why. “I-I don’t know…”

“Come on, please?” Her nails snag on the placard of his button down, pulling him toward the orbit of her eyes. “I promise I’ll be totes normal about it. Even if she tells us about your cute baby cheeks. Omigod, or has pictures? Do you think she has pictures?”

He grimaces. There's a horrifying thought. “I don’t….think so.”

Her shoulders hunch, defeated. “Aww, well, still. You should invite her! I bet we’d have a great time.”

Sugaya-san shakes her head. “I dunno, seems like a bad idea.”

“Really?” Kitagawa-san blinks over at her. “How?”

One small hand juts out, giving a uncertain shake. “Vibes.”

“Well, that seems like a silly reason not to try.” She swings back to Gojo, all smiles. “You’ll ask her won’t you? I promise I won’t ask for anything else all week.”

“Er…” He doubts that promise will last the walk. “If you really want to.”

She nods. “I do.”

Sugaya-san snorts. “Your funeral.”

[fantrollology]

Memory for fledge?

Fledge laid on her stomach in the middle of the field outside her hive. Her lusus curled in the grass beside her, and Fledge’s little fingers scratched between the beasts twitching ears. In front of her, a composition notebook's spine was cracked open to the latest page in her story. Her feet jostled behind her. She chewed on a pen cap. She had to name the ship.

Captain Ovisca's research mission was once again interrupted; this time, by a band of space pirates. They were here to steal the captain's supplies, because they couldn't find a planet with any, and they decided to steal from the captain's ship because research vehicles seemed easier to steal from. Of course, they didn't know who they were messing with. They are rude and demanding. They are brute and uncaring. They want to take everything Captain Ovisca has, even her research, just to spite her. What ship could house such a merciless bunch?

She bit into the pencap.

The Sunbeam! A perfect name for a villain's vessel, hot and fast and dangerous and quick to kill. And then, the crew would be Jades, since they could withstand sunlight. Fledge thought herself quite clever as she filled the next page and a half with the ink describing the pirates, and, of course, the ship. She pulled from books and wikipedia pages to describe its mechanics in detail.

The vessel shot out connectors to catch the outer hull of Ovisca's explorer without breaching its airlock. It then yanked the little ship towards its opening maw, which latched over the ships main door like a leech on skin. They used overrides to unlock the ships doors from the inside and pried it open, against the grip of the emergency failsafe. Ovisca stood around the corner, quietly, ready, as several of the jades jumped through the door and landed - Thunk - against the floor of the lock.

Ovisca waited around the corner for them to proceed.

She would restrain one quickly, a knife to their throat.

“Who are you? What do you want with this ship?” she would demand. She hoped the pirate captain would not notice how her hands shook.

The haughty pirate captain would laugh and throw her head back. “I am--”

Ugh.

“I am--”

Agh! Names were always so hard. Troll names were even harder than ships. She cocked her head to the side and propped it on her free hand. The other moved quickly back to feeding her the pencap. The soft red light of a transmission station tower beat in the distance over the hill. She closed her eyes and let the hum of it blend into the tracing of grass across her arms, the wind through her hair. She lost her train of thought.

That’s alright. She opened her eyes and bracketed the name. [Name]. That’s what the writing guides she found online suggested; if you couldn’t think of a word, a name, a number, or even a sentence, bracket it and come back to it later when you have the mind for it, so as not to interrupt your flow. She would find something eventually.

Captain Ovisca would pilot her explorer and toss the tethered vessel towards a black hole; they would be forced to evacuate. One of the crew would realize their flaws, and be inspired by how smart and determined Captain Ovisca was. That jade would come back later; Captain Ovisca would find her ditched by her crew on the comet that she would land on to repair her hull in the next chapter. They would bond over the repairs, and the jadeblood would have some knowledge to help Ovisca move forward with her research, moving her one step closer to discovering the secret at the center of this galaxy.

Of course, the captain didn't know this. For now she would continue to be alone, and continue her research. She would not return to the mother starship, not without answers. She would persist despite the damages to her ship, despite her new understanding of dangers beyond the natural, beyond what her books taught her. Because, even if she was alone, and space is dangerous, it was also inspiring and mystifying and wondrous and beautiful and [beautiful] and [beautiful].

[eliospeachie]

10 Peachy Years pt.1

⚠️DISCLAIMER⚠️

This story is heavily inspired by the book/movie called "Call Me By Your Name", I do not own the story, the character Elio, Samuel, or Anella. This story is a work of inspiration, using the script as inspiration.

Part 2 is linked below

2k words

He didn’t plan to leave the country last second, no one really did. But, there Vante was, sitting in an airport with his face covered up with sunglasses, a beanie, face mask, and even a hoodie on for extra measure. He didn’t want anyone to see him, he didn’t need to be seen like this, not after what had happened. He was just lucky to be alive and to be able to get a place to stay last second.

With the summer around, a lot of people were more than willing to rent out their homes or anything at a good price. Vante didn’t want a hotel or a home, he didn’t trust himself to be alone. He didn’t think it’d be smart to do. So, he rented out a room he had seen an ad for online, one that was in a huge home not too far away from town with an orchard of peach trees in the backyard that belonged to a daily of three.

He had bought the plane tickets and the room for the whole summer an hour before he boarded the flight with nothing more than a duffel bag as his carry on shoved with last second clothes and an ipod as a carry on item. When you’re wanting to leave behind your entire life, you don’t really want to pack that much. And when you’re filthy fucking rich, you can just buy what you need when you get there.

The plane had landed early in the morning, taking some time to change out of his clothes into something more comfortable. Even though no one would suspect Vante of being there, he still kept on his face mask, though he changed his hoodie and sweatpants for a pair of shorts and flannel he bought at the airport.

He got a taxi to go to the house he would now be residing in, his eyes watching everything pass them by, a smile never leaving his lips. He was more than excited, it wasn’t every day you get a chance to live a new life and it also wasn’t every day that your new life would be in Italy. Call it ironic, but the brunette found himself to be more than lucky.

He arrived at the house not too long after the taxi had picked him up, admiring the beautiful stone as they pulled into the gravel sidewalk, an older man and woman stepping out of the house just as Vante stepped out, large smiles on both of their faces. They didn’t seem too old, maybe old enough to be his parents actually.

“Hello!” The woman cooed, stepping over to Vante and held onto his hands, placing kisses to his cheeks. “Oh darling, welcome! I’m Anella and this is my husband Samuel!”

“Hi, it’s nice to be able to meet you both.” He smiled at the greetings from Anella, turning to Samuel to shake his hand, a small feeling of nervousness in his stomach. “I know you guys have my name and all but..can you just call me V for a while? I prefer that right now.” That, and not everyone in Italy was named Vante. He didn’t want to risk hearing a fan saying his name and sounding the alarms.

Both parents didn’t mind, simply agreeing and went into small talk about the flight and drive to the home, already asking how V liked Italy even though he had only been there for an hour at most.

“Ah, Elio can help you with those bags! Here, let me call for him.” Samuel went to the front door yelling the name he spoke of only to get no response.

“Samuel, he left earlier, remember?”

“It’s alright, I can get it myself. It’s not heavy anyways.” V chuckled softly, throwing the bag over his shoulder, using a hand to brush back his dark locks. “Is Elio your son?”

“Yes, he is!” Anella smiled at the mention of her son, sighing softly as she led both V and her husband inside, V already entranced with the home and took in what details he could on the way in. “He should be home in time for lunch. Hopefully you two can become friends.”

“Oh, I hope so too.” V chuckled softly, though knowing that might not be true. V wasn’t the best with kids so he was pretty sure that he would have a hard time making friends with the boy. But he couldn’t say that to their faces. Not when he hadn’t even met the boy just yet. “Your room will be up the stairs, the last door to your left. We put some spare clothes in the closet for you to wear when you would like to.”

Elio nodded and gave a gentle thank you before he went to the room that would now be his room for the next three months. It wasn’t that big but it wasn’t small either, just big enough for a desk, bed, and the big dresser with the clothes as promised. He went to the door that was next to the dresser to find a bathroom and then another door. Out of curiosity, he opened the second door to show another bedroom. However, this one looked lived in. There were posters on the walls, books sprawled here and there. It was probably the son’s room.

V took a much needed shower but put on the clothes he had gotten at the airport, sighing to himself as he rubbed his face and went to the window, opening it up. It was nice, the air, the crispness of it. It probably smelled that much fresher with all of the trees near them.

Soon, it was lunch. The three sat at a table outside underneath string lights that weren’t lit up just yet, it probably usually was for dinner and for events. The idea sounded cute, hopefully he would be able to see it tonight.

“Where is that boy?” Anella sighed, taking some juice to pour into her cup.

“Patience, my love. Perhaps he got too caught up. Maybe he’s on his way home now or-”

“Sono qui, sono qui! Scusa, sono così in ritardo, non volevo..” A boy suddenly ran in, one who looked about V’s age. He had a head full of curly hair that had been in a shorter cut, freckles spreading across his nose and cheeks, thick eyebrows, and piercing blue eyes. He was..handsome. The boy turned to V, a small smile on his lips as he nodded his head as a little greeting, sitting down in the chair next to him, though a bit farther, shaking his hand. “Elio. Nice to meet you.”

“V.”

The lunch went on smoothly, V mainly sitting in silence as he ate except for answering small talk questions and complimenting the food as he ate. He couldn’t help but steal a few glances at Elio every so often while sharing barely any words with him. Lunch was done fairly quickly, Elio excusing himself to go back to seeing his friends, saying he’d be back for dinner.

And that’s how it went on for the next few weeks. The two boys barely exchanged words together, him mainly staying in his room, out with his friends, or somewhere that V wasn’t. But, one day he got lucky, going into the kitchen where Anella was peeling some peaches, Elio occasionally stealing a piece of the fruit, him and his mother giggling as V walked down, smiling at the two. It was cute to see a family together.

“Oh, V! Buongiorno! Come hai dormito?”

V stood there in the doorway for a second, trying to figure out what the woman meant as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, his mouth open as his brain tried to search for an answer. “Uh..”

Elio laughed a little, taking another piece of fruit from the bowl. “She asked you how you slept.”

“Oh-” V chuckled with the other two, shaking his head a little in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah I slept pretty good. The bed actually seems to get more comfortable each night.”

Anella nodded, lightly smacking Elio’s hand when he tried to steal yet another piece, muttering something to him before turning back to glance at V, placing the mango peels onto a napkin on the side. “Were you wanting something to eat? Perhaps some juice?”

“No thank you, Mrs. Perlman. I was actually wondering if you knew where a good cafe close by would be? I want to go into town so I can maybe grab a thing or two from the shops and thought it would be nice to stop by at one.”

“I can show you one.” Elio pitched, catching both Anella and V by surprise, mainly because he didn’t expect the other to volunteer. “I can show you around the town as well. And I’m sure I can help you be your translator.” He took himself off the counter he was leaning on and walked past V, lightly patting his arm as he did. “Come on, we can use the bikes.”

So, the two took the two bikes as Elio said and rode into town. It didn’t take long, five minutes or so? The ride was quiet between the two as they went in, stopping at the cafe Elio had mentioned. He, of course, ordered for the both of them, getting them some blueberry muffins as well since they both didn’t have breakfast.

“Are you from around here?” V asked, looking up at the other sitting across from him while taking a bite of the muffin on his plate.

Elio shook his head, reaching into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips. “No,” he answered simply. “We used to come here during the summer. And Christmas and a uh..another holiday. But dad grew too attached to here so now we live here.”

“Christmas?” V chuckled, his eyes on the pack of cigarettes. It hadn’t been too long since he last smoked, he was trying to quit, having a cup of coffee every time he wanted one. It was kind of working, only if the coffee was black. When Elio held the pack out to him, as if asking if he wanted one, it took everything in V to shake his head with a polite no, turning his eyes towards the muffin instead.

Elio hummed, taking the lighter and lit the stick between his lips. “And Easter too. We are Jewish, English, American, Italian, French... somewhat atypical.” He laughed a little, taking a puff of the cigarette and moved it away to blow the smoke away from him.

V hummed, nodding his head a little. “I see. What do you and your family do here?”

“Mm, wait for summer to end.” Both boys shared a laugh at that, V shaking his head.

“No no, seriously. What do you do at least? Besides the waiting and hanging out with your friends all of the time?”

Elio sighed a little, his smile staying on his lips, placing the stick back between his lips as he spoke once more. “Transcribe music. Read books. Swim at the river. Go out at night.”

V nodded, tilting his head as he took a moment to look the man over. He could see that, Elio at his desk with headphones over his ears and scribbling on a piece of paper what notes he heard or laying in his bed with a book in his hands. It didn’t sound that surprising.

“Let me ask you something,” Elio chimed, making V snap out of his little daydreams of the other. “Why did you choose to come to Italy if you can’t even speak Italian?”

V couldn’t hide his little laugh of embarrassment, looking off to the side and leaned back in his seat, starting to pick at his nails. It was a little habit he had grown to do it the past few weeks, picking at his hangnails. “I needed somewhere to go last second. I wanted a bit of a summer getaway and uh..what better place than Italy?” Both of them shared a laugh once again, V taking the last bit of his muffin. “I do want to be here for a while though so I might as well learn, right?”

“Maybe I can teach you?”

[secureace]

Buy Digital Smart Locks, Electronic Locks in Noida Ghaziabad

Discover the Top Digital Smart Locks and Electronic Door Locks In today’s fast-paced world, the demand for smart technology in home and office security has surged. Digital smart locks and electronic door locks have become essential components in providing convenience and enhanced security. If you reside in Noida or Ghaziabad, this article will guide you toward making an informed purchase of the…

[planindiango]

flexible funding is our future and our friend

DISCOVER HOW OUR FUTURES FOR YOUTH PROGRAMME IS GETTING SUPPORT WHERE IT’S NEEDED FASTER

The phrase, ‘flexible funding’ certainly makes sirens sound in the charity sector. Essentially meaning a donation is made without a requirement to spend it on a specific project area, it can seem that these funds are a get out of jail free card for charities who want or need to spend money on areas that don’t directly impact activities and change lives. Although there isn’t quite enough space to write a book about it here, there are many reasons why flexible funding shouldn’t be judged by its cover.

Charities, and the sectors surrounding them, have histories with colonialist ways of fundraising. Deciding what programme participants need based on what our societies have told us to believe instead of asking them, or letting those we work with be seen as dependent or without freedom are both habits fixed funds can encourage – removing opportunities for future-focussed change. Choice ensures these opportunities stay open. With more flexibility than ever before, Futures for Youth leaves space for choice and allows us to support work how and where it should be, as quickly as possible.

So, we know that flexible funding means donations can be spent where they can have the greatest impact, but what does this mean in practice?

Flexible fundraising lows us to immediately, and authentically, integrate into the communities we work in.

Our main priority will always be providing the best programming possible, but through a modern and decolonising lens, this looks different. It looks like investing money into safeguarding, consulting local experts, and creating safe spaces alongside community members with their input. In the coinciding ages of the pandemic and climate crisis, bespoke programming is key. We need funding that can be moved easily enough to create such environments, not funding constrained by conditions created in an entirely different, often biased context, which doesn’t meet the needs of local people.

It means we can involve the next generation – the right way.

Each new generation has a new set of social issues to contend with, so we shouldn’t be using techniques from the last one to deal with them. Whether this be equipping youth with tool kits to combat evolving problems like online misogyny or using our platform to get their ideas to legislators, for equality to be achieved, we need to not only work with younger generations, but also work with them on their terms. Restricted funding cannot give this group a space where these conditions are listened to and acted on.

Making sure we know how, when and where to spend money on overheads.

When done correctly, overheads can be the key to a door otherwise locked – take fundraising and marketing for instance. Often thought of as expenses which sacrifice revenue in favour of vanity, taking the time to better understand and cater to audience’s means we can evolve and expand. The intersectional and anti-racist values we promote are unfortunately still outside of societal norms, but with smart investment in fundraising and marketing, little by little, this will change. Read More: https://www.planindia.org/flexible-funding-is-our-future-and-our-friend/

[demoblocksmiths]

How to Cut and Program a Car Key with Demob Locksmiths

Car keys are not what they used to be. Gone are the days when you could simply cut a new key at a hardware store or a locksmith shop. Nowadays, most car keys have features such as remote controls, transponder chips, smart keys and key cards, which require special equipment and skills to cut and program. If you need a new car key, you can’t just go to any locksmith service. You need a locksmith service that can cut and program a car key with the best quality and efficiency. That’s why you need to cut and program a car key with Demob Locksmiths, the best locksmith service in Southampton. Who are Demob Locksmiths? Demob Locksmiths is a local independent company that has been providing locksmith services in Southampton and the surrounding areas for over 10 years. They are not a national call centre or a franchise that may charge you extra fees or subcontract your job to unqualified or unreliable locksmiths. They are based in Southampton and know the area well. They have a team of qualified and experienced locksmiths who can handle any car key issue you might have. What can Demob Locksmiths do for you? Demob Locksmiths can help you cut and program a car key with their locksmith services, such as: - Car key cutting: If you need to cut a new car key, Demob Locksmiths can do it for you. They can cut any type of car key, such as: - Standard keys - Remote keys - Flip keys - Smart keys - Key cards - They can also cut extra keys for your locks, such as ignition, door, boot and glove box. - They can also program your car’s immobiliser system, which prevents your car from starting without the correct key. How much does Demob Locksmiths charge? Demob Locksmiths offers competitive prices and no hidden charges for their car key services. They will give you a free quote over the phone or online, and they will stick to it. How fast can Demob Locksmiths reach you? Demob Locksmiths is available 24/7 and can reach you within 30 minutes of your call. They understand that car key issues can happen at any time and cause a lot of inconvenience. That’s why they are ready to help you anytime, anywhere in Southampton and the surrounding areas. How reliable is Demob Locksmiths? Demob Locksmiths is a reliable and trustworthy locksmith service that you can count on. They are licensed, insured and bonded, and they follow the code of ethics of the Master Locksmith Association. They offer a guarantee on all parts and labour, and they will always respect your property and privacy. They also have many positive reviews and testimonials from their satisfied customers on their website www.demoblocksmiths.co.uk and their Facebook page. How to contact Demob Locksmiths? If you want to cut and program a car key with Demob Locksmiths service, you can contact them by: - Calling them on 01202 238560 - Visiting their website at www.demoblocksmiths.co.uk - Filling out their online contact form - Sending them an email at contact@demoblocksmiths.co.uk - Following them on Facebook. They will respond to your enquiry as soon as possible and provide you with a free quote or book their service. Conclusion Demob Locksmiths is the best choice for cutting and programming a car key in Southampton. They are a local independent company that offers fast, efficient and professional mobile service for any car key issue you might have. They are available 24/7 and can reach you within 30 minutes of your call. They offer competitive prices and no hidden charges for their car key services. They also offer free security advice and a guarantee on all parts and labour. Contact them today for a free quote or to book their service. You won’t regret it! Read the full article

[repairhellousapembrokepines]

Repair Hello™ USA Pembroke Pines

Repair Hello™ USA Pembroke Pines

10130 NW 3rd St, Pembroke Pines, FL 33026, United States

(754) 289-6883

Mobile phones have become indispensable parts of human lives. We need them for storing our important information, calculation, apps for booking and ordering essentials, contacting people, making payments and what not. These things have made the upkeep of the mobile phone very important. A mobile phone stores so much information that if it breaks down even for a day, it can disrupt the normal life operations.

It is for this reason that a number of companies have come up that focus upon repairing these devices and providing products and services that allow your life to go on smoothly by repairing the phone within seconds!

Some of the examples that can be given for this are:

Adhesive tape stickers for all categories of phones.

Touch screen digitizers

OEM LCD screens

Fingerprint button flex cables

OEM Microphones

These items have several advantages:

Battery issues start arising after a year or so. The battery can be exchanged instead of changing the whole phone.

The adhesive that keeps the mobile phone together can start going away. For example, the keypads of some mobile phones start behaving badly. The issues can be sorted by changing just the keypads.

The touchscreen phone issues are very much related to its display. The display can be changed instead of spending on buying a whole new phone.

The speakers can be changed in case of malfunction.

The memory can be extended by inserting memory cards, if not; the mobile phones can have external memory cards that save the data and function well when connected to the external source.

The repair items can sound a little old school, but these are the products that are most economical in nature, smart use oriented, well-functioning and a wise approach compared to spending thousands on a new phone.

These repairable parts are available for all companies like Apple, Samsung, Nokia, Mi, Xiaomi, Huawei, etc.

These companies also have trained workforce that handles the data and the mobile phones with care and return the mobile phone within the guaranteed period.

Such products can be ordered online, purchased in bulk or wholesale by small repairers. Many new trending products like Adhesives for all categories of phones, OEM digitizer Touch screen with frame replacement is available for almost all types of mobile phones. 2 piece OEM slide buttons, Door cover, Middle plate frame, camera repair part, lock and unlock buttons, power on/off and volume buttons, etc. are also available.

Conclusion:

Repairs is usually not taken in a very positive way. But the most sustainable as well as wise and economical thing to be done on the part of humans is to use the device as long as it can be operational and in use.

There are a number of people who run their whole business through their phones. For them it is impeccable to make sure that their mobile phones are in working condition 24*7 and hence they should go for such options. Repairable products are not only available at reasonable cost, but for all categories of phones and companies.

[lucidtrust]

Yale smart lock

#Yale smart lock Bluetooth#

Hardware-wise, the Yale Conexis L1 lands sure-footed in a great place. The only real option, save for ripping out the whole door and potentially all the fittings around it, is to replace the handle assembly with something smarter. It's not as if you can just whip out a drill and drop in a deadlock. But realistically a multi-point mechanism does mean you're rather limited in terms of your smart lock options. Multi-point locks offer good protection against forced entry, and they generally only need a single key to get them locked up. If you have a UPVC front or back door, you likely have a multi-point lock they're not common elsewhere, but if you have to pull the handle up before you can turn the key to lock the door that's another good indicator. Best Multi-Point Smart Lockįor front doors with serious security, a multi-point lock is built into the structure of a door, providing multiple bolts which engage with the frame when the lock is activated. It looks great and we found it to work flawlessly we can't think of a better option whether you're administering it from near or far. If you're looking to add a smart lock to an existing door, this is the best smart lock. Igloohome's Airbnb integration is an extra bonus, enabling you to line up keys for all of your forthcoming bookings automatically. That's management gold, and easy enough for even first-timers to use.

#Yale smart lock Bluetooth#

It's particularly well presented, making management of PIN codes for limited or permanent access a breeze, and you can use it to generate Bluetooth keys and send them on even when you're out of range of the unit itself. That's very neat, and the timing of it can be customised in-app.Ībout the Igloohome app: it's excellent. There's a sensor included, which detects a simple stick-on magnetic module on the door frame to automatically lock the deadbolt when your door is shut. Through the front panel you can gain access via a PIN code, a Bluetooth key, or even (once you've pulled off the circular cover) a traditional key in case of emergency, the latter of which uses a tough-to-pick four-sided dimple lock for extra security. The light-up PIN panel disappears when not in use, only illuminating when a palm is pressed on it there are confirmatory beeps when numbers are pressed and codes correctly (or incorrectly) entered. The Deadbolt 2S is absolutely gorgeous, with a super-slim front panel on the outside of the door and a rather heftier (but not unattractive) locking box on the back. We didn't struggle, put it that way, though it did take an hour and a half to get everything perfect. It's easy enough to install, though the included instructions aren't tremendously detailed, and the online video guide, while sharp enough, does leave a couple of aspects a little muddy. That makes it a great DIY addition to an existing door, one which doesn't necessarily require the existing lock to be hacked about or removed. Unusually, at least in the company of the locks we've tested, the Igloohome Deadbolt 2S comes with everything (bar tools) which includes the actual bolt portion of the lock. Sometimes they'll use a euro cylinder, sometimes they'll use a lever lock mechanism inside. They're installed within the body of the door, with a shackle which protrudes into the frame when engaged and retracts flat to the door when open. Best Deadbolt Smart Lockĭeadbolts are generally used as an additional lock, backing up something like a night latch, to provide a second barring point into a door frame. That and it gives you a whole host of entry options, from physical keys to PIN codes to virtual Bluetooth keys, with a handsome and well appointed app backing it up.Īs there are so many smart locks available, we've broken them down into deadbolt locks, multi-point locks, euro cylinder locks and night latch locks. It's attractive, sleek, and over the period of our test it's been absolutely flawless in operation. We've installed and thoroughly tested each of the locks below, and the best smart lock you can buy overall is, in our experience, the Igloohome Smart Deadbolt 2S. So read on below for more information on features, benefits and honest overall reviews of the best smart locks for your home. If you’re planning on installing a smart lock yourself, we’ve got the inside scoop, as we tried and tested them all ourselves.

[thepinkproof]

all eyes on you

file two

You’re a model with a dark past, when your billionaire inventor sister dies and leave behind a strange man to take care of you nothing seems to be ordinary.

Genre: model reader x yandere! android taehyung

WARNING ⚠️

suicide, smut, death of family, cursing, reader struggles with mental illness, abuse

expectation: the book is dark but it will also be comedic, 5 CHAPTER STORY, POV WILL CHANGE NEXT CHAPTER

ASK TO BE ON TAGLIST: @urbanbts @zeinailn @catsareassholes @vsmv7531 @anjcrbnll @b0fi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @sharanyasrivastava ask to be added

⏪SERIES MASTERLIST

⏩ NEXT CHAPTER

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Every since that stranger entered your house you've done everything to avoid him. This includes finding anything in your room to keep you entertained, no matter how boring it was. Fortunately, you were rich and invested in comfort and entertainment in your cozy room.

But it wasn't enough. You needed human interaction. Something you haven't felt since Karina left. Your friends who you used to hang with barely spoke to you. It seemed they only interacted with you online, whether it was liking your pictures or tweets.

Regardless you made an effort to reunite with them. You sent them a text with the following message.

groupchat

miss you girls! hangout at my place?

we live for a party y/n!

if there's alcohol im there!

halloween party? im there

You watched in horror as your phone blew up in the groupchat. You specifically said hangout, not party. You totally forgot it was halloween It was no question that you weren't mentally prepared for one, you were grieving.

"Which is exactly why you need one!" You mumbled to yourself.

A smile grew on your face as you thought of the headliners. The media would love a party, they always do.

You was obsessed with her image. You loved the way people praised and loved you.

Growing up with your parents the only time they ever paid attention to you was when they saw your career doing well. And the only attention you ever got was from random people you didn't know.

While your sister faced controversy for her products, You made sure you were the one that maintained a perfect image.

Many people thought your sister's technology was too invasive. That it was too smart for a computer. Many were skeptical to buy her home system, despite having no body or face people thought it acted too human. Some even said that the system would get too happy when they came home, or too sad when they left.

A woman even started the theory that the V system saw her husband abusing her and locked all the doors anytime he was around without her telling it to do so.

One man said the V system electrocuted him after it begged not to be unplugged.

But you never believed all the rumors, you had the V system yourself and it never acted that clingy. You figured online trolls just made it up.

When the bad press came out about the V system Karina seemed happy to hear the rumors. You always admired how she didn't care about the hate.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the door open. Instinctively, you threw a pillow at him which he easily caught.

Your mouth dropped as he glared at you. You couldn't help to feel a little bit scared, he was intimidating.

"Don't do that again." He warned.

Your eyebrows furrowed in protest at his words. "Me? You barged into my room and didn't even knock!"

"This is my house princess. I don't need to knock when every square foot in here is mines." He defended.

"Yeah ok." You said sarcastically.

Taehyung let himself into your room, his eyes looking around your huge decorated space. You hated that he was in your area. "So you have any plans today?" He asked.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." You replied putting on your headphones. Maybe he would get the hint that you don't want him near you.

You didn't even realize he was standing right over top of you. "Don't play with me Y/n."

"Um personal space." You uncomfortably mumbled pushing his firm chest.

"What makes you think you can throw a party without my permission?" He said raising his voice.

"Why are you so mad, you can come, ya know since you already live here?" You casually replied.

"You can't have a party, you could get hurt. You know what happens at parties? People get drunk, overdose and have unprotected sex." He said sitting on your bed uninvitedly.

"I don't know it sounds like fun to me." You said trying to hold in a giggle.

His eyes soften at your smile even though he didn't like the reason for it. "You know if anyone come in my house trespassing its in the law that I can creatively get rid of them. I would hate for the green grass the lawnmower just finished to become red." He casually spoked.

Your eyes widened at him. "Your dark humor is annoying ." You mumbled.

You could feel him stare at you but nevertheless you tapped away on your phone hoping he would leave you alone. You felt him snatch your phone from your hands and immediately you reach to get it back but he held it away.

You groaned words of protest at him. "What is wrong with you? Give it back!" You screamed.

"You don't need to talk to anyone but me." He scolded but you were too busy trying to get your phone back to ponder on what he said.

"We need to discuss the rules."

"Rules? I'm 25 years old. Fuck off!" You shrieked.

"According to doctors you're not capable of taking care of yourself." He stated.

Immediately you stop reaching for your phone and sat back. "Look, I haven't had an episode since the day my sister died, and before that it was 8 months. I'm doing really well." You explained hoping he would back off.

Taehyung took her hand again, just like he done yesterday. "I know my baby that's why I'm going to take care of you as well as your sister did. It will be even better than before." He said in a soothing voice.

You eyes widen at the mention of your sister. "How did you even know her?" You asked.

He let go of your hand. "I'll explain right after you listen to my rules."

"Fine."

Rule number one, You must be ready whenever I am ready. We will go everywhere together in the public."

You immediately protested. "I have a job! Plus a boyfriend. You know how that would look."

Taehyung clenched his fist at the mention of Jin. "We both know that relationship is full of dishonesty and no love. You're going to end it and we'll be a couple. So whenever I am working a model job you will be too."

"You're a new model, those jobs are below me." You mumbled crossing your arms.

"Really? Yesterday it seemed like people was talking more about me than you."

You grew silent knowing he was right and looked at him for his next rule.

"Rule two, You have to listen to me and I must watch you take your medications."

You sighed but let him continue.

"Number three, nobody is allowed to come to this house without my permission."

Number four, if anyone ask you are my girlfriend. Before you start running your mouth do you really want the public to know i am your conservator? And being my girlfriend requires more than an act, you are mines only. There wont be nothing open about our relationship like your previous affairs."

You got up from your bed in disbelief. "What do you being my conservator have to do with an relationship? You're just fulfilling your sick fantasies and taking advantage of me."

"Maybe.... but what would the public think of you being with a different man other than Jin all the time? They would call you a cheater or ship us all the time. Think about how good for your career it would be to date me." He proposed.

Taehyung knew how much you loved publicity stunts. He watched as your face went from angry to a smirk. "This is perfect. You're hot, I'm hot! Imagine the instagram photos and how much people would love us! Oh my gosh!" You shrieked in happiness.

Taehyung smiled as he watched you. You've always done something to him, something that he couldn't quite understand.

He just loved seeing you smile, hearing you talk, and seeing you happy.

"You need to get ready. I have to go to work at your sister's company."

You looked at him in confusion. "You're taking over? What do you know about technology?"

"More than you think princess ."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Taehyung wore matching Celine sunglasses as the paparazzi started to crowd the two of you with photos.

To be fair you were anxious. You felt bad for Jin since you two haven't officially broke up. Thanks to Taehyung, there was no way to contact him and he will have to find out from the news.

Plus, the media would say that you've moved on too quickly. You had just met Taehyung yesterday, publicly. But none of that matters. You didn't have a choice.

Taehyung grip on your hand tightened the closer the papparazi got. You thought he might have been nervous since he was a new model. He probably wasn't use to all this attention.

But Taehyung loved the soft feeling of your skin and he hated the way the paparazzi swarmed around you, like you were some zoo animal.

It was unfair. There was more to you than your looks. What gives them the right to think they can follow you around?

"Are you guys a couple?" The papparazi kept nagging.

You looked over to Taehyung who was silent and just glared at them.

Rolling your eyes underneath your sunglasses you answered them. "Yes we are."

Listening to the reaction of the news you can tell you got their attention, exactly what you needed. But, it still didn't stop their questions.

"No way! He's a new model it's no way he can pull you that fast." One of the men said thinking you couldn't hear.

Without thinking Y/n pulled Taehyung in for a quick but dirty kiss. They started to gasp and take more pictures of them.

Taehyung didn't know his cheeks could turn red, but they did. He didn't know what to do with your affection. How could you kiss him without a warning? He felt uneasy. He didn't even get a chance to kiss you back.

Fuck! Why would you do this to him? He should have been the one to initiate the kiss! What makes you think you can just kiss him out of nowhere?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You watched as Taehyung spoke so intelligently about tech to the board of directors. It was safe to say you weren't the only one who was shock. The board of directors looked surprised that he knew so much. He didn't look like the nerdy type.

You also wondered how someone could be so smart. He was using big words and you didn't understand a word what he was saying. It was also strange how he knew alot about Karina's technology already.

"V tech has accomplished so much groundbreaking technology but it's also been consistent. It's always been the V home system, the V camera, why don't we take all of these features and make a smartphone." Taehyung suggested.

The board of directors all stared at him but one lady couldn't hold her laughter. You recognized her from other meetings with your sister. She's been working for her every since she graduated college and kissed her way up to the board of directors.

"Excuse me but what makes you think you can walk in here and tell us what to do? We have stocks in this company and legally own percentages. We get to choose the next head of V tech, not a random pretty face like you. If you want to model and endorse the technology like Y/n use to do than sure, sit down! But we are the ones who come up with the ideas." She said standing up from her seat to be more authoritative.

Taehyung looked around at the rest of the board of directors, they agreed with her. Who did they think they were? He knew everything Karina would've wanted. He knew everything you wanted.

"Karina elected me as the new head. In fact, the V phone was her idea." Taehyung surprsingly pulled out a blueprint from his pocket with notes. You recognized her handwriting but you didn't understand how Taehyung found this. Perhaps he was looking through the basement, maybe he knew her in the past. All you knew that you had to ask.

The directors looked shock that Taehyung had proof that he was the successor. "It doesn't matter who Karina chose, she's not here right now. The V phone idea is cliché and a waste of money." The lady argued.

Taehyung's odd blue eyes bore into hers. "You're going to need the V phone to call the emergency room when I-" He started but you interrupted sensing trouble.

"Oh-kay! I think everyone needs a break so why don't we take one." You said in a loud voice causing everyone attention to look at you.

Surprisingly, everyone listened to you. They all tiredly walked out of the room, some even glaring at Taehyung on the way out.

In the end it was just the two of you in the room. It was obvious he was angry, the man looked like he was going to explode. "You seriously need to smile a little. Do you need some of my anti-depressants?"

Oh if looks could kill you would be dead right now. He looked more angry at you than the directors.

"Why did you kiss me?! You didn't even ask for consent!" He blurted.

You were taken back. Is this seriously what he was mad about? You scoffed. "Nobody asks consent for a kiss. I mean it was just a kiss, it's not that serious." You explained to him.

"Not that serious? Kisses are romantic. It's an appropriate way to show love without it being sexual because it's just a person showing their pure emotions." He argued.

You laughed at him. "It's not that romantic just two people swapping saliva."

A small gasp let out your mouth when Taehyung shoved his lips towards yours. The kiss was rough and passionate and without question you kissed back. He pulled on your lips with enough force for you to understand that he was trying to shut you up. His tongue tried to enter your mouth but you immediately pushed away.

"What the fuck! Why did you kiss me? You didn't ask!" You yelled at him.

He smirked at you contradicting your own words. Realizing you became quite flustered and embarrassed. "But you can't just kiss me!"

"I thought you said kisses weren't that serious." He mocked.

"B-But that wasn't just a kiss! That was different! That was heated and affectionate! A kiss people give before they are about to bone!" You yelled at him but he only found it amusing.

"Hmm was it? It was just swapping saliva to me." He grinned.

"Ugh! What is up with you? Why are you like this?"

"Like what?" He questioned.

You glared at him because of his unknowingness before rambling. "Well first you're so perfect looking and you steal all the attention from me. Then you weirdly have ownership of my house and life. You know about technology... how exactly? And most importantly how the fuck do you know Karina?"

"So many questions Y/N. But I will answer them. Karina taught me everything I know and made me the person I am today." He vaguely answered.

"Well that answered absolutely nothing! I have never heard Karina spoke of you." You sighed slapping your hands on your thighs.

"Oh don't stress yourself out on things that don't matter princess." Taehyung watched as you cross your arms and stared at the floor. He noticed that you were quite immature for your age. Very spoiled from the rich treatment your family has given you but also it's clear your life haven't been easy.

It was clear your sister monitored you but also let you have your way. He didn't understand why you were so obsessed with your image and career. Maybe it was a distraction that kept you from realizing the horrors of your real life, your real story.

"Oh don't frown princess. Look what I got you." Your curious eyes looked up at him. "The new V phone prototype! The public will definitely buy it when they see that their favorite model is the only one with this phone." He said in an enticing voice.

"I want my old phone back, you know the one you stole?" You complained.

"The camera quality on this is amazing and you can even talk to V on here. C'mon Y/N i know you miss him." He tried to persuade in a cheerful voice.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "How did you know i missed my beloved V system?" You weren't suspicious of him but you disliked that he knew so much about you and you knew little about him.

"Who wouldn't miss the best tech in the world?" He smiled innocently. You didn't say anything to him as you took the phone from his hands. You started to turn it on and inspect it.

"Speaking of miss, do you think anyone would miss that board of director lady if I got rid of her?" He asked you.

You shrugged, attention all on the new features of the phone. "I mean I guess not? She's only been here for about a year. Firing her won't be a problem."

"Oh you thought I meant get rid of her as in fire?" He laughed. You didn't reflect on the meaning of his words as you had already downloaded social media. It was terrible to be away from your socials even for a few hours.

"That's so cute of you. I was thinking of ruthlessly ending her life but perhaps a fire would be more decent." He added deep in thought.

Your eyes looked up from the phone in disgust. "Don't joke about killing people Taehyung. Do you want to get cancelled?"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taehyung and you both looked at the house. He clenched his jaw as he stared at the hundreds of people outside in the pool. Alcohol bottles everywhere, loud music blasting through their ears.

You however had a mischievous smirk on your face. A halloweeen party at your house! And to make it even better it was packed, your social status still remained at the top.

Taehyung sensed your excitement as you jumped up in the air preparing to run and join them but his arm held you back.

"Don't play with me Y/n. I said no parties. You're stupid for doing this without my permission." He scolded.

"Hold on Dad!" You insulted. "You took my phone away before I could call it off, this is on you. It's nothing we can do now except enjoy the party." You mischievously suggested.

He sighed as you ran off towards the party. He should've known you were alot of work.

Taehyung could feel eyes of drunk girls gazing at him as he squeezed through the crowd to get to the door. Some even offering him a dance or a drink.

He knew he needed to calm down. His anger was always something he couldn't control. He lets his head rest on the door and took a deep breath.

After feeling he recollected himself he typed the keycode in. Opening the door to finally be alone, oh so he thought, as the people started to crowd in his house.

He let out a huge yell of anger causing people beside him to look at him strangely.

This couldn't be apart of his program. He haven't felt this way in a while. He was sure he was designed to be calm, obedient and kind. But he felt the opposite.

"Why so serious?" A voice appeared. He looked at a girl who was facing him. She was quite attractive dressed in skimpy clothing. Her hair was tied in pigtails, the ends of it blue and red.

"Get it i'm dressed as Harley Quinn and you look intimidating like the Joker." She chuckled.

Taehyung glared at her not wanting to be talked to. "I'm not dressed as anything." He coldly responded.

"You look sexy as you are. Besides these costumes can be hard to take off when the opportunity arise." She flirted. Taehyung dismissed her comment as he tried to walk off.

She pulled on his arm. "Hey! Do you know who I am!" She said offended from him walking away.

"A snobby entitled celebrity like everyone else in this room." He hissed.

"Chill sweetheart. I've heard of you on the news all week. You're Kim Taehyung." She grinned.

Taehyung used his eyes to look at hers. Immediately he searched for her face. "You're Carly Cross, a supermodel." He stated.

"Oh so you do know me. Then you should know I'm at the top in this industry and if you want to be on top, perhaps you should try getting on top of me." She suggested pulling on his shirt.

He paused to gather more information on her. "You're Y/n's competition. You've been dissing her for years. Why would I ever touch anyone who dislike my girlfriend?"

Carly laughed. "Your girlfriend seems like she has no problem touching anyone." Taehyung saw her eyes looking at a scene. You were dancing on someone very seductively.

"I know you're new sweetie so let me tell you about Y/n. She's been around just like everyone else in this industry. But she's different. She's a nepotism baby whose only relevant because of her sister. Now that her sister is dead there’s not much relevancy there. I suggest you stick with me, besides I am prettier." Carly's hand started to feel on Taehyung body lower and lower every word she spoke.

Taehyung pushed her off him roughly. "You dumb fuck. Don't touch me. And if you ever speak or even think about Y/n the only thing you would be modeling is a casket."

Taehyung ignored her as she gasped in shock. He looked up and saw that Y/n was gone. It was a good thing he had a way to know where she was at all times.

In a rush, he went upstairs to where he knew exactly she would be. He wondered why she would leave the party. She seemed to be enjoying it. He hoped she was okay.

Opening the door he saw you making out roughly with some dude. You were so invested you didn't even hear or see him insert the room.

Taehyung felt his anger get worst as he saw the man visibly erected letting out moans.

You disconnected the kiss and for a moment Taehyung thought you had finally noticed he was in the room.

"I want to see how you feel inside me." You said in a breathy voice holding his face close to yours.

He connected the kiss again as you unbutton his pants. You were confused when he stopped kissing you. Suddenly his head fell on your shoulder.

He let out a moan but not of pleasure, but of pain. Opening your eyes you see Taehyung standing over the both of you.

"Is that enough of his insides to feel princess?”Taehyung said stabbing the man in his back again.

You shrieked in fear as he kept doing it. Repeatingly stabbing him as you felt blood all over you.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Taehyung please." You cried. Seeing your tears he automatically changed. He threw the knife somewhere on the floor and pushed the man’s body off of you.

His once angered face was now full of concerned as he moved his legs to straddle you. But that only made you cry harder.

"Why would you do that?" You screamed. You were now breaking down. Letting out loud sobs in fear.

"I told you you were mine. Why would you do this?" He asked with a genuine confused face.

"You're fucking sick! Get off of me!" You screamed with a hoarse voice.

"I'm sick? You cheated on me. How can you kiss two men in one day? Why did you make me do this?" He sobbed. He started to cry erratically.

You had never seen anyone cry that hard. It even caused you to stop crying for a moment. Your attention focused on him thinking for any way to get out of this situation.

Maybe it was a mistake. You could see he was obviously guilty about it. Nevertheless, you were still scared of him.

Your mouth slowly dropped as Taehyung cries become louder and exuberant. It was then you noticed his teeth together and the slight dimple forming. He wiped away his tears. He was laughing.

"I'm kidding! You didn't make me do that. I wanted to do that. I needed to." He grinned, his smile became bigger when he saw your shocked reaction.

"B-but why?" You croaked.

"The guy was very below your standards. He probably thought this was going to be the best night of his life sleeping with a pretty girl like you, only for it to be his last night." He chuckled looking at the blood on his hands.

You couldn't make out any words. You were frozen. Those dark jokes he made earlier. You paid no attention to it thinking he was just joking. How could you be naive?

A random man walks into your life, controls it, threatens you and you thought he was normal?

"Or maybe I just like the satisfying feeling killing in front of you. You should've saw your face, it was so cute when the blood landed all over you." He smiled at you.

"Please don't kill me Taehyung." You murmured barely letting your words out in fright.

He looked offended. "I could never hurt you, Y/n. I'm going to protect you princess. And if you don't listen there will be graving consequences." He leaned in and whispered in your ear causing the blood to spread more on you.

"I-I understand just please get off of me." You pleaded.

He instantly got up but you got up slowly. You turned your body around to the edge of the bed and  cringed when your feet was touching the body.

With one deep breath you stood up and avoided his stares. You took slow steps towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" His voice asked from behind you.

"I need to clean myself up." You hesitantly answered, you didn't dare turn around.

"No. Go out to the party like you are." His hand wrapped around your waist. "Blood all over your pretty white dress. You look beautiful."

Instantly you protested. "People would know what you did. I can't wear this." She would love for everyone to know Taehyung was a killer but what killer allows people to know he kills.

"It's halloween princess. You'll blend in perfectly."

So she did. The both of them did. They walked out into the party, crimson blood splattered all on their bodies.

Everyone's eyes was on them in awe, not in fear. For once you didn't smile for the cameras, you ignored them as they took pictures of you.

And on tommorow's morning news you two would be the sexist couple, people would rave over the halloween costume, they would recreate it years in the future, they would admire the two of them, wish to be them, not knowing the cold and dark truth.

[formenis]

Can you do a oneshot of L Lawliet where he is in a secret relationship with Light's twin sister and she finds out she is pregnant so she shows up at Task Force to tell L and just announces it to the whole task force but its L who announces he is the father.

OML I'm so sorry for the delay, Anon-san 😭😭

Lately I'm feeling so overwhelmed and in the dumps that I lost any sort of inspiration. I hope you like it thou.

.

.

TITLE: NEWS

pairing: L x Yagami!fem!pregnant!reader

warning: none.

«See you later mom»

«Be careful dear. You too Light»

«Yeah bye mom»

And the door was softly closed after that answer. The two Yagami twins, Y/N and Light, always left home earlier than their sister Sayu. Light had to take the train for the Daikoku Private Academy while Y/N was a last year high school student at the Gamou Prep Academy, where her twin brother attended supplemental classes in the afternoon. Actually, it was what her family knew. The reality was a lot different.

Despite the two twins had the same age, the same skills and the same perfect school report, Y/N had that extra oomph that Light hadn't. It was thanks to this oomph that ensured her a special, secret job. She was noticed by no less than the greatest detective in the world, L.

Y/N Yagami had everything L needed: intellect, slyness, excellent rhetoric. At first, they had a simple working relationship made of mutual respect and esteem. But as time passed those feelings changed.

Initially Y/N felt strange: L was this mysterious detective with an extraordinary mind and skills, she never saw him in person. She had the impression that what she felt for him was wrong: what if L didn't exist? Y/N was so curious about him that one of their online meetings, she couldn’t wait to ask him thatquestion.

«L, can I ask you something?»

« 𝚈𝚎𝚜»

«Why did you decide not to show yourself? Can you describe yourself to me, please?»

A long pause followed her question. Y/N didn’t know what to say (or to do). She had the feeling she crossed the threshold.

«𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙻 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛»

Such an arrogant person. Y/N expected an answer like that. So she gave up with her wish to see her crush' face.

Sometime later, however, the Yagami girl met someone. A pale, tall young man with a simple white shirt and faded jeans; his hair was moved by the wind and they seemed messy yet rather silky. He was standing there, at the top of the Tokyo Train Station's stairs, staring intensely at her, few steps higher than the girl. This man was blocking the way and Y/N was in a rush.

«Excuse me, I have to-»

«You're Y/N Yagami?» he immediately interrupted her and in the meantime he hid his hands in the pockets of that faded jeans.

«Who wants to know it?» Y/N replied defensive. Unlike Light, Y/N had good skills in many martial arts and she was ready to kick his ass, just in case.

«Me»

Y/N hadn’t the idea that in front of her there was L himself. He introduced himself as Ryuzaki but, for some reason, she couldn’t believe him. For her, it was like he had a good answer for everything as if he planned every single (and possible) question from the Yagami girl. That reminded her of…L. Everything about him reminded her of the detective.

Day after day this Ryuzaki started to appear more and more often in her life: at the train station, on her way home or after school. He told her he was studying for the entrance exam at the To-Oh University, that was why the two of them were seeing each other that often.

«I see, what do you want to study?»

«Criminology»

Y/N and Ryuzaki created a strange bond between them. The Yagami twin felt so at ease with him despite his particular (and rather unique) behaviour: she didn’t mind about the large amount of sugar he ate or the sitting position he took. He was so smart and brilliant…once again she thought about L.

It seemed like that Ryuzaki appreciated Y/N's presence too. He loved listening to her or analyse every single feature of her figure. She would find him staring at her such intensity that she would look away.

Y/N, however, had so much in her mind. She was so convinced that Ryuzaki and L were the same person that she felt so anxious around him. She had to know the truth.

«Ryuzaki, can you tell me something?»

«What is it, Y/N-san?»

«Are you L?»

The two of them were waiting for the train and Ryuzaki was standing (or "slouching" actually) right beside her. His dark hair covered the face and Y/N couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking. She was afraid that she crossed the threshold.

Ryuzaki smirked and sighed through the nose as if he laughed silently. Then he turned to look at her. «Yes»

He kept staring at her while Y/N got pale and returned the stare with wide E/C eyes. So she was right…he was L. The real L. She couldn’t believe that this man…with faded jeans and a simple white shirt…was L. The same L she started to love.

That was how their story began.

───────◇───────

Now Light was going to finish his last year of school together with his twin sister Y/N but something else what happening outside the Yagami household: Kira.

This person took the role of judge, jury and executioner of the criminal world not only in Japan. Kira was such a disgusting, immoral human being, Y/N hated him. Nobody had the right to play with other's life regardless of their police record. Light, however, didn't agree with his sister.

«I don't understand your point, N/N. The world would be a better place without criminals, you have to realise that»

«Of course it would be a better place without them, Light. But it's not the right method!»

«And what would be "the right method"?» Light asked her making air quotes with his fingers.

«Uhh…I don't know maybe putting them before a judge?» Y/N simply replied. «Kira is not the solution, Light»

Her brother was so different lately. Since this Kira appeared Light started to act strange, Y/N was the first to notice it. Not even her mother, father and Sayu perceived it.

Y/N was feeling strange too actually. After Ryuzaki's "confession" about his identity the two of them admitted their respective feelings. Y/N was so happy that Ryuzaki felt the same as her, she was so happy. Sachiko noticed it and asked her if her happiness was due to a boy but Y/N didn’t give her a proper answer.

Ryuzaki was investigating about Kira and he booked a suite at the Imperial Hotel and Y/N would pay him a visit from time to time. They talked, played, ate and even made love in that room. And it was since one of those times that Y/N started to feel weird.

«Let's not talk about it, alright Light?»

«Fine» her twin shrugged and kept walking home together. After a while they crossed a konbini, a Japanese convenience store.

«Wait Light, I have to buy something»

«Alright, I'll wait you here»

And Y/N ran inside the shop while Light started to read a book outside. She had to buy few things: a new set of pencils, chips and…a pregnancy test. Yes, a pregnancy test.

She had all the symptoms: swollen breasts, nausea, fatigue. And the fact that she missed the last period was a sort of final proof. But she wanted to be sure.

Once she payed everything Y/N left the shop and kept walking home with Light. He was looking suspiciously at her but he said nothing.

.

> TIME SKIP <

«Positive…it's positive» Y/N repeated in a whisper while looking at her pregnancy test. Her E/C eyes were still glued to the test when she heard someone knocking at the door.

«Y/N! I need the bathroom!»

«Me too!»

Light and Sayu were staying right outside the door, Y/N hoped they didn’t hear what she said before. She hid the test in the pockets of her jeans and left the bathroom.

«Sorry» and she ran downstairs. Light, once again, looked at her with clear suspicious and raised an eyebrow. Sayu took advantage of this moment to lock herself in the bathroom.

«Sayu! I have to go with dad, leave the bathroom!»

In the meantime, Y/N already left the house and was literally running towards the Imperial Hotel, where Ryuzaki had his room (and where the Task-force met L for the first time). He had to know it.

About ten minutes later Y/N arrived at the hotel and quickly went to Ryuzaki's suite. She was bouncing off the walls for the excitement.

«Ryuzaki!» she spread the door open and ran inside. She quickly reached him and made him turn towards her.

«What is it Y/N-chan?» he asked calmly.

«I have to tell you something!»

«And what would it be?»

«I'm pregnant!» she said smiling. It, however, faded quickly when she saw Ryuzaki's lack of reaction to that news. Was he…disappointe-

«What?! Are you serious Miss Y/N?» the young voice of Matsuda echoed in the room making Y/N distract from the man in front of her.

The Yagami girl noticed that her father's entire Task-Force was working in the same room as L and she didn’t notice them when she entered the suite. Excitement was replaced by fear.

«Uhm…well…»

«Congratulations!» Matsuda got up and walked closer to her with a kind smile on his young face. That smile cheered her up a little.

«Thank you Matsuda-san»

The rest of the Task-force congratulated to her too, they were all so happy about that news. The only one who didn’t say anything was L, the father.

Aizawa started to give Y/N some "parental" advices when L's suite room opened again revealing Soichiro and Light at the doorstep. Y/N didn’t notice it immediately and she couldn’t stop Matsuda from rushing towards his boss to give him that important announcement.

«Boss, did you know it?»

«What is it Matsuda?»

«Miss Y/N is pregnant!»

Silence.

Silence of a grave, to be precise.

Nobody dared to speak, to move, to breathe. It seemed only Matsuda wasn’t feeling that heavy atmosphere.

At those words Soichiro walked towards his daughter and placed his strong hands on her shoulders.

«Y/N, is it true?»

She gulped and swallowed hard. «Yes dad, Matsuda-san is right» her voice showed no fear, no embarrassment, no shame. Even if her family didn’t agree, she wasn’t going to give up that easily.

«Who is the father? Someone assaulted you?» he immediately asked sounding rather worried and serious. Y/N was going to answer when she heard some sort of mumbling from behind, where L was sitting.

«Did you say something, Ryuzaki?» asked Soichiro.

«I said, Yagami-san…» he took an ice-cream sandwich and divided it in two. «I am the proud father» he turned towards the policeman and licked the vanilla cream without looking away from the man.

Soichiro couldn’t see her but Y/N was smiling widely at Ryuzaki who smiled back for a mere second before