#That you were just th guy he needed for his like . greater plan. and he PUT YOU IN FUCKINNN. LIMBO?!! FOR 20 WHOLE YEARS !!!!

[beebotea]

hey, are you listening — part 15

pairing : college au!xiao x f!reader . summary : in which uni students decipher vague tweets and emotions... + ie: second-year students y/n and xiao are forced to work through their term project (and feelings) as their friends attempt to meddle with their love lives ‘for the greater good’ . cw : swearing, slut-shaming, suggestive, reader she/her pronouns .

[prev] [masterlist] [next]

15. working

act 1, scene 1

With an hour left before the end of class, Professor Lisa announced that she planned for the remaining tome to be used on the group project work. As there were only a few days left until the first submission checkpoint, it would be wise for all students to coordinate with their partners accordingly.

Y/N watched as her classmates started to shift around to find their partners. Her own friends leaving soon after, but not without checking in on their suspiciously quiet friend.

“Y/N?” Yanfei spoke up from beside her.

“Hmm?”

“Everything alright? You seem a bit down?”

“Yeah… just thinking i guess. I don’t really wanna talk about it right now but Lumine is free to tell you guys whatever. I don’t mind. I just don’t wanna talk about it all over again… Maybe aftewards.”

“No worries. We can talk anytime you need.” Yanfei gave you a gentle smile before leaving to look for her project partner Aether, waving to Heizou as she passed.

Y/N felt a hand on her head, ruffling her hair and she looked up to see HuTao grinning down at her. “You’ll be okay.” The brunette encouragingly patted her friend on the back (although it was more like a shove) before following suit to find her own partner.

Not long after, she heard the chair beside her being pulled out.

“Can I sit here?”

Y/N met eyes with Xiao, who waited patiently for her response despite feeling all kinds of emotions on the inside.

“Go ahead. We’re project partners after all.” There were so many things to be said, but so few words came to her mind as he took his spot beside her.

Moments passed and no further words were exchanged. It was as if the air was denser, harder to breathe in and harder to communicate through.

“So… are you feeling alright.” Xiao finally said, deciding to break the silence between them.

“Mhm.” Y/N responded.

“Are you sure? You seem… different.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She gave him a curt smile. “I’ve just been… stressed so you don’t need to worry about me.”

It was hard for her to read the expression on his face. A little hesitant and a lot concerned, perhaps.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. It’s not good for your health.”

“Yeah I guess it would be pretty bad if I got sick since we’re working together on this project, huh.”

“Whether you’re my partner or not I’d prefer that you’re always happy and healthy.”

“I’ll be okay. Let’s just start working alright? We’ve already finished the first draft so I guess we could use this time to peer review each other’s work.”

“Alright.”

—

act 2, scene 1

—

act 2, scene 2

Scaramouche looked up from his phone to glare at the boy wearing teal braids in front of him.

“The fuck you mean you nominate me?” He whispered loud enough for the other band members around them to hear.

“Well you’re probably the most acquainted to both of them out of the five of us. And you don’t have shit to do in this class either!” Venti argued.

“Fine.” Scaramouche said as he roughly pulled his Venti’s beanie down to his eyes, before treading off to find a seat near Y/N and Xiao.

“I think we can probably get the submission draft done by tonight if we keep working on it.” Y/N said, looking up from her screen as she reached the half-way point of Xiao’s part of the report.

“Yeah, probably. I’m down to push through and get it all over with tonight.” Xiao agreed, thinking it would be the best decision as it would lessen the workload on Y/N's shoulders.

“You guys don’t have any plans tonight?”

“I don’t think so.” He felt as if he was missing something...

“I thought you guys had band practices Tuesday evenings.”

Oh right. That's what he forgot. “Oh shit." He said, mentally facepalming. "We do…”

"It's alright then, Xiao, no biggie." Y/N reassured him that it would be alright for them to finish the day after until she was cut off by a familiar voice.

"Or, you can just come to band practice with us and work before and after we practice." As if appearing like the Cheshire cat, Xiao's indigo-haired cousin spoke up from the seat directly behind the partners.

"Scara?"

"Oh so you've finally noticed. Venti's here too." He smiled at her.

"Are you guys stupid? This is a 9am class! Why are you even here?"

"Tch. It's always why Scara but never how's Scara, huh." Scaramouche rolled his eyes at her for unknowingly sounding too similar to Aether. "But like I said. Come with us to band. We won't mind an audience. Right Xiao?"

"Yeah. I'll walk you home after too." His cousin agreed. "It's better that we finish this submission sooner rather than later for you. It'll take some stress off of your shoulders, Y/N."

Despite her constant inner turmoil, Xiao never failed to make her heart skip a beat and almost forget all of her worries. He always remained attentive and caring, making her feel safe and special regardless of what was happening around them.

"Pfft-stress? From what? Colouring in your business analysis charts with crayon?" Scaramouche cackled from behind her. "You're in business... what could be so stressful about your course load? I've seen Childe submit a picture of a marketing poster he made out of Crayola marker and get an 85%. It wasn't even scanned to be submitted as a PDF. Straight up PNG to the submission folder."

"Lay off it, Kuni. They're in different programs." Xiao rolled his eyes at his cousin.

"Yeah! Shut up, nerd. Don't you have problem sets to finish or something?" Y/N stuck her tongue out at the Inazuman in retaliation.

"Whatever. So you coming to practice or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go."

—

a/n: verrryy overdue bc i have this course called collaborative exercise where we need to p much complete an arch project in like four days (i.e. i wake up at 6:30 am to get to uni at 9am and i get home at 7pm allll week). i think next chapter will also be p reading intensive too so theres ya heads up :DDD hopefully i can get the chapter out in time but if not, my apologies. hope you enjoyed <33

—

taglist  —

@ashhh-14 @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream @yuminako @bananasquash​ @scaramoo​  @lovely028​ ​@apinu @yukii-1 @ttalgi @yelleloww​ @bobaducky​ @sukunasrealgf​ @yukiesora​ @kissingkzuha @neigesprincess @aether-darling​​ @shinsukeee

—

[ficthots]

Bonded: Chapter Three

A/N: I know I am posting these back to back here on Tumblr, but this is the final chapter that I have ready for publish at this time. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Word Count: 3.8K+

Chapter Two

Weeks of blood, sweat, and tears had turned into a massive success. The turn out even greater than you had thought possible. The upper officials of the Order who were able to be in attendance were thoroughly shocked at the accomplishment. 

Putting it bluntly, no one, including yourself, had extremely high hopes of how it would go. There was not one single declined invitation from the supporters or those stuck in between, of course, those opposed to the Order were not in attendance, but you knew it would only be a matter of time.

The work you had put into persuading those weary of the true changes and goals of the Order by utilizing those in support and personally speaking to them as much as you could manage meant your supporters grew immensely that evening. Now it was up to them to return to their home planets, spread the word around the galaxy to their neighbors and friends. 

It would take no time at all. This also meant that your name was spreading like wildfire with the news. It had been said that the event was of your doing, even more surprising that you were in attendance, making rounds and speaking to everyone you possibly could. 

A new type of person in the Order. One that cared about these planets true wellbeing, swearing that if they backed the Order and their mission, the Order would back them in return. It was a good deal to many. So good of a deal that with each person you spoke to, an invitation was extended to you. 

With Kenzo touring the gala with you all evening, he constantly was writing down planet names, organizations, leaders whose names you would never be able to remember on your own, the list ever growing for your travels. 

It was thrilling to say the least. 

Earning praise from fellow members of the committee for a job well done. You had only just begun. Your own plan falling right into place. Having decided after speaking with Kylo that one night that you were going to climb the ranks, forcing him to give his ear to you. He would have no other choice but to after seeing the commendable work you were doing. 

You knew that with your name spreading the way it was, you were no longer viewed as the pretty dimwitted princess who had been married off to the Supreme Leader. No, you were a diplomat. Recognized for your distinction and integrity, intelligence up to a degree no one expected from you across the Order. 

You were the Empress. 

Planning to put the title into use for yourself. Knowing if you believed in it, he would eventually as well. Once he did, all would. Making real change and impacting many in ways no one thought you would be able to do. A sense of pride bursting within your chest as eyes widened at your committee meeting. Going through the ever growing list of planets you were to travel to. 

“Excuse me, Supreme Leader, but I will need to reference my notes in this meeting. It is far too many to recall from my memory alone.” A small smile permanently gracing your lips at the small dig that only he would know about. His mask bored into the side of your face from his seated position, not truly believing you were going to be going on this tour.

Believing it all to be for show. General Waylan chimed in before the Supreme Leader could. “My goodness, Empress. You will be traveling for the foreseeable future with a list like that. Is that all from the gala last week?” Nodding with a smirk, your hands folded on the cool black table. 

“Yes, General, it is. For those that were in attendance, they witnessed firsthand how immaculate of an audience we had. I spoke with more than I can recall about what they could offer us in exchange for Order protection. They all agreed with the Supreme Leader and Order’s mission. We are doing quite well. 

“I will be traveling to each of these planets, in due time, to begin discussion with them. It is quite exciting.” There it was again. A blinding migraine, that causes you to grow dizzy, immense pain riddling your skull. You knew what it was from.

Lack of rest. Utterly exhausted with how much you were moving and handling on a daily basis. Unable to recall the last day of rest you had indulged in. Your poor ladies in waiting, Calista in particular, were tasked with splattering you in any face makeup they could to make you appear less dead on arrival.

With each passing day, the bags under your eyes grew deeper, eyes more bloodshot than before, brain fog like you had never experienced. The trouble came from the fact that you had no time to slow down. Far too much work to get done, but in the end, you knew it would be worth it. 

To top it off, these headaches or migraines, or whatever they truly were, were occurring more frequently. In meetings with the Supreme Leader, every time you had any sort of interaction with him, it never failed. Of course, it made you irritable, especially with the farfetched questions he threw your way.

Your encounters with Kylo were happening more often, meaning more arguments and spats. Typically, very kurt on his end, snarky on yours. You didn’t enjoy the way you couldn’t see his face, like staring into a robot day after day. Never a kind word or even a pleasant tone to greet you. 

Instead, that ridiculous visor stared at you and greeted you with the same modulated voice. It only sparked your distaste for him. Becoming quite certain as you gossiped with your ladies about how truly hideous and old he must be to have to hide behind that helmet every day. Not to mention the weight it must put on his head as well. 

Nearly every time you “spoke” with him, it was nothing short of a temper match between you two. Not pleased that he spoke to you like a scolded child and him not happy that you were testing him at every possible turn. Needless to say, the engineering and repair crew were working overtime.

One too many control panels and hallways destroyed in his fits of rage every time after you stormed away from him. The only person to ever do so. You decided when conversations were over, not him. He always watched as you would abruptly stop speaking, turn on your heel, and trudging off in the other direction.

It drove him mad.

Yet, he knew he could not do anything to you. Always having one of his Knights over his shoulder, advising him to not murder you in cold blood right then and there. However, what was new was arguments happening in committee meetings. 

Like today.

“It is a poor decision and one you need to think twice before acting on!” You shouted over him, “discussing” what needed to be done about a possible spy. “It is an unfounded accusation and rumor, Kylo!” A hushed silence fell over the room at the use of his first name.

You didn’t even bat an eye. General Waylan had never felt fear like that before. Ice running through his veins he was certain he was about to witness your beheading. The last official to address him so casually met a worse fate than that. 

Leaning towards you in his seat, you didn’t flinch. “Watch. Your. Tongue.” Hissed out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at how preposterous it sounded through the modulator. Waylan spoke up before you could. 

“Supreme Leader, I will personally take this on to discover the truth. I will inform you of my findings as soon as I know.” He didn't look away from you, despite the head pain riddling you once more, you did not either. No one spoke another word, his chair flying backwards, your head tilting to meet his gaze. 

As he departed the room, lightsaber ignited, he immediately destroyed the paneling that had just been replaced days ago. Sighing, you met the eyes of Waylan as the others quietly filed out of the room. “You need to be more careful, Empress. He is unforgiving,” shaking your head as you gathered your materials, ready to head back to your residence, you spoke.

“He can do nothing to me. I am not the slightest bit worried or intimidated by him. He acts as a child does. Anger first, rationalization following. He knows I am right. Why do you think he is so upset around me? He despises knowing I am right when he is in the wrong. I’m just the only person not afraid to say so.”

Waylan shook his head, following in the direction of your residence, but parted at the lift. “I just worry for your wellbeing. Are you resting better?” Forcing a tight lipped smile, you lied. “Yes. These next two days I have nothing on my calendar so I can rest.” His hand patted your arm, turning to head towards his own quarters.

“I’m glad to hear it. I will not bother you then. It can wait until your break is over.” Stepping into the elevator you called out to him down the hall. “Thank you, Waylan. Have a great night.” You waved as he did too. 

Eyes shutting, tiredness seeped deep into your bones. Leaning against the cool metal of the elevator, you took a moment to calm your nerves. Despite the show you put on, you were apprehensive to speak up against Kylo.

The problem was you were the only one who had the gall to do it. You were fairly certain that the retention and death rate of First Order employees had plummeted since your arrival on the Supremacy. If that meant going toe-to-toe with him no matter what came out of his mouth, then so be it. 

Kicking your shoes off the minute your blaster door closed behind you, Tam and Layana stood there ready to get you prepared for your night. “Please tell me a bath has been drawn,” you despised the whiney tone that left your mouth, but you were far too exhausted to pay it mind.

Tamsyn removed your cloak, “Yes, Calista is in there right now.” Layana spoke up as she picked up your slippers from the floor. “Would you like me to put in your dinner request with chef Casimir?” 

Undressing as you walked down the hallway to your room and refresher you nodded. “Yes, something warm. Broth or soup of somesort. Ask if he knows anything to aid with sleep.” She nodded, turning back down the hall to find him. 

As you stepped into the warm refresher, Calista stood, the bath drawn exactly to your liking. “Empress.” She greeted, picking up the discarded clothing that pooled at your feet. Wasting no time, you slipped into the warm scented water. 

Sliding down as far as you could, the scalding tub was a warm reprieve for your aching joints. Layana returned moments after, a small teacup in her hands. “Casimir requests you to drink this tea before dinner.” She set it on the lip of the tub, your dripping hand grabbing the porcelain and bringing it to your lips. 

A moan of relief escaped you as the liquid settled in your empty stomach. Calista approached from behind, a damp towel draping over your eyes. “What is the smell on the rag?” You questioned, savoring the comfort it brought. “Lavender. It will make the bags and puffiness of your eyes reduce.” 

It went silent following that. Continuing to sip the tea brought to you, the occasional shuffle of the girls in the refresher and your quarters the only noise heard. You felt the knots in your neck melting, the ache in your lower back dissipating the longer you remained in there. Knowing you were going to look like a shriveled prune fruit, you didn’t care.

Honestly, you had no idea how long had passed, fairly certain you fell asleep, but you didn’t worry. With so many people around, if something were to happen they would be there instantly. “Empress. Your dinner is on your side table. Would you like to take it in bed or your lounge?” 

Layana’s calming voice was whispered to not disturb you. “Mmm, bed, please.” You grumbled out, knowing she would place a warm pot of coal in your sheets to warm it for you. Knowing you were perpetually cold on this horrid ship, research had gone into ways to keep you warm whilst aboard it.

Calista aided you in stepping out of the tub. One towel to dry, your robe on after, a calming lotion placed on your body, soft pants and shirt on, you climbed into bed. The fluffy mattress and pillows greeting you, demolishing the soup as it was the only thing you had consumed all day, you knew sleep was waiting for you. 

With the lights out, no one uttered another word. Tamsyn taking your used dishes, shutting all lights out, you drifted off into a wonderfully deep sleep. Not planning on waking until the end of day tomorrow. 

“Empress? Empress, you need to wake up.” The voice was echoing in your head. Unsure if it was a dream or not, you groaned, trying to return to the bliss you had been feeling just seconds prior. “Dove!” Tamsyn hissed, violently shaking you.

Eyes shooting open, you saw her worried gaze on her face. “Wha-what? What’s wrong?” She sighed, finally moving away from you, turning on a dim light and grabbing your robe. “General Waylan is at the door. He is requesting you immediately.” 

You didn’t wait for another word, letting her put your robe on, you slipped into your shoes and hurried out. “Waylan? What’s happening?” He was worried, he himself hardly dressed for this late night visit. 

Exasperated and out of breath from running here, he spoke quickly. “Empress, my apologies for waking you, but it is an emergency.” Shaking your head, you tried to smooth down your wild hair as best you could. 

“Nonsense. What’s going on?” Sighing, he was clearly flustered as he filled you in, your tired brain running on overdrive to catch up. “It’s the Supreme Leader. He is in a blind fit of rage. I have never witnessed him like this before.” 

Immediately hurrying out of your residence with the general, you two made haste to the committee conference room. “Stars above. Take me to him. What caused it?” As the elevator descended to the correct floor, he continued. “He is threatening to destroy Ralltiir,” shaking your head, you anxiously bounced between your feet. 

“No, no, no! That is an ally! A newly formed ally. He cannot do that. It will set us back and ruin everything. Why? Why does he want to do this?” Before Waylan could answer, you two stepped into the conference room. 

It was a blurred mess. Everyone arguing with one another, shouts echoing off the walls, Kylo standing there visibly shaking with whatever news he had received. You couldn’t hear yourself think as you looked around and tried to listen in on the arguments being had. 

Growing irritated as you tried to ask what was happening, but being ignored by them all, your voice raised, shouting in a way no one had ever heard before. “I will not ask again! What is happening with Ralltiir?” It went silent, your chest heaving with irritation. Voice strained from shouting as loud as you had. Noticing that even the Knights were present, you knew it was serious. 

One official spoke up to answer you. “The leader of Ralltiir has spoken horrid things about the Supreme Leader. Simply deplorable things. Stating he is using the alliance for his own missions gain. Which, might I add, is an act of treason!” Brow furrowing you raised your hand in his direction.

“Ridiculous. I have known King Alster for years, he would never say such things.” The Supreme Leader spoke up then. “You suspect I am lying?” Your head snapped in his direction, across the entire distance of the room, your blood boiled.

Jaw setting, teeth grinding, you spoke up. “Where do these words come from? Where did you hear this?” One of the general’s spoke up. “It is but a rumor! Something unfounded and reported by a lower class employee who has no authority or regard to discuss such matters.” He was tired and clearly worn out as he attempted to reason.

You could hear many sides as they entered the shell of your ear. We cannot let this go unpunished, there is no reason to destroy an entire planet and people for the acts of one man, we do not even know if they are valid, why would you question the Supreme Leader? It was endless.

In only a moment, the arguments resumed. The Supreme Leader turned towards one of them happening near him, lightsaber igniting. “You agree with them saying these things about your Supreme Leader?” Your hands shook as you yelled once more. 

“Enough! It is my responsibility to handle these regards. No action is to be done until I speak with King Alster myself! This is none of your duties or responsibilities. It lies with me! First thing in the morning, I will be on my transport to Ralltiir to speak with him directly and decipher the truth of these rumors. There will be no other plan or action taken!” All eyes were on you, attention commanded the entire room, Ren was the next to speak.

With his saber still ignited, he slowly stalked towards you. Anger unlike any other spoken towards you. “You believe your plans hold power over mine? I am the Supreme Leader-” without a waver of your voice, tone to match his you spoke over him. “And I am the Empress.” 

He halted, the next words instilling fear in every soul in there. “Everyone, but the Empress, leave. Immediately.” No one uttered a word, no one loosed a breath, they shuffled out in total silence. A standoff between the two of you. 

You broke first. “I do not wish to overpower you in front of the committee, but-” his regular course of action began. “Yet you do so without remorse.” Teeth grinding, the modulator hitting your ear wrong, you spoke. “Because this-” again, he spoke.

“To say you have the same amount of power and say.” Growing more irritated and angry, you raised your voice. “Simply because,” he did it again. “Your title means-” you finally bursted. Sleep deprivation, lack of respect, no remorse for any other being, that stupid mask, it all became too much.

You stalked towards him, shouting the loudest you ever had. “For kriffing sake remove that ridiculous mask when you speak to me!” Your chest heaved, trembling more present than ever before, you had reached your wits end. 

Of course, you expected that to be the last thing that ever left your mouth. Perhaps he would use his force magic to choke you like you had seen him do far too many times. There was the possibility of him using the saber on his hip to split you in half. Who knows, maybe he wanted to beat you to death with his bare hands. The possibilities were endless. 

What you did not expect was the hiss of his mask to sound in the room. Watching as the pieces separated, he lifted it off of him. The clunk of the heavy metal dull as it hit the table to his right. It was shocking, who you were met with.

A young man, possibly in his mid-twenties. Black long hair that nearly brushed his shoulders, a simple wave in the raven locks. Sharp features with an angling nose and pronounced jaw, not a single scar or mark on his fair complexion. Plush lips, set in a line, looking as though he had kissed a rose just before. Not a hint of emotion took over his face. Brown eyes staring into yours. Perfectly shaved, not a hint of facial hair on him. 

Only letting it falter you for a moment, you spoke again, calmer than before. Finally having a face to look at when you spoke to him. “If you would please listen. This is my job, my duty to the Order, to you. I know how to handle this in a matter in which it will work and resolve itself without creating turmoil throughout the galaxy whom we are trying to get on our side for your mission, Kylo. This will work, I assure you.” Not catching that you had addressed him by his name in such a calm matter, you watched as his eyes danced over your face. 

“And if it doesn’t?” The first time you had heard his own voice. Not garbled through a machine to mask it. Deep and smooth, completely the opposite of what you thought. All of him was. “Then it is my failure and will accept whatever reparations you decide for it.” 

You spoke without hesitation, maintaining eye contact the entire time. So close to one another, only a small book could fit between you both. Watching as his jaw twitched, his lips parted, never removing his eyes from you. “We will go with your plan, Empress.” 

With that, he placed his helmet back on, brushing your shoulder as he stalked out of the room. A shaky breath escaped you, pulling out a chair at the table, sitting down to calm yourself. Shaking ferociously, you needed to stabilize yourself. 

There was no chance you could process all that had just happened within that span of only sixty seconds. Blinking rapidly, you stood, smoothing out your robe, and turning to exit the room. The hall was packed, all members of the committee waiting for orders. 

Knowing that the Supreme Leader had just left, they waited to see if you would step out of there or if they were about to happen upon a massacre. Locking eyes with Waylan, his relief was palpable. However, no one was prepared for what you said next. 

“The Supreme Leader has agreed that my plan is the best course of action. My travel arrangements will be made promptly. I will be back the day after tomorrow, possibly longer if deliberations are needed. I will inform everyone of the outcome upon my return. That is all.” Jaws hung slack, some releasing breaths of relief, others storming off in their own rage.

Waylan smiled at you, shooting you a small wink before you yourself turned and made your way to your residence to prepare for your departure in just a few short hours. Triumphant that you had gotten him to listen to you. 

This was your chance to prove yourself to him in a way that would never present itself again if you failed. Failure simply wasn’t an option here. As your thoughts ran rampant about what needed to be done, Kenzo meeting you at your residence doors, Tamsyn already getting your bags packed, one thing slipped your mind.

It was the first time since your marriage that Kylo had used your title without sarcasm or discount. 

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Readalong. Book Two, Chapter XXII:

The banality of Evil

detail from James Gillroy's A Voluptuary Under the Horrors of Digestion

From Villepastour’s Castle to Putiphar’s lair we go. Patrick jumps to and fro like a pawn in a board game. No time to catch his breath from the intensity he just endured at Gave’s, he is already on his knees, kissing the hem of Putiphar dress, once again ready to kiss more of her, in order to get her not to deport his undeserving friend Fitz-Harris, who Putiphar affirms, should be more than happy to be set free (let us bear in mind that the man, despite his many flaws, had only sang a stupid song) He gives her what she wants. He needs all the powerful friends he can get (is he thinking also of asking her help in securing his position on the musketeers/clearing his slate?). The chapter is for now, almost a perfect refelection of Chapter XIX, but it skillfully lets reader expectations down. Those expecting another eroticosymbolist scene between Patrick and Putiphar, with the poetry of the kiss and Patrick’s both skilled and naif manipulation, will be disappointed: we are given something diametrically opposed to that. Farce.

Madame Putiphar is in Petrus eyes, the de facto queen of France. As Patrick comes to his appointment, ministers are leaving after a meeting with her, her desk full of maps, plans, treaties, etc. What is the actual king of France doing? Cooking.

The ridiculousness of the situation is evident. The man who is supposed to be the most powerful in France sends his mistress to do his work while he’s all messy, dressed as a cook (a typically femenine and proletarian occupation, even if cuisine was Alexandre Dumas’ hobby, he was seen as super extravagant for cooking for his guests)(If inversion of gender roles seem to be completely positive when it’s Debby and Patrick having qualities traditionally thought of as pertaining to the opposite gender, or the narrator remarkably stating the feminine education has only improved Patrick, the inversion is completely ridiculous and negative here)

After Pharaon’s farcical intervention (calling out for his beloved Pompon, dressed as a cook, not at all sure if the political council was over yet, not at all surprised at assuming Pompadour is with a lover, delighted at the prospect of her trying his eggs, proud at his subjects revering and recognizing him even while dressed as a kitchen boy (“emasculated” and de-ennobled too) we get not only a parody of the King, but a high parody of Patrick (we are not used to see the narrator mock his protagonists. But, just look at this:

“As soon as Patrick was outside, thick tears ran from his eyelids! sensitive and great, he had been shaken all the way to his entrails, seeing what had been done to his King.  And his heart broke, and his tears doubled, when as he crossed a gallery adorned with paintings, his eyes met Louis IX and Charlemagne!” (tr. via @sainteverge ) )

Patrick seems to embody here a parody of a belief many contemporary to Borel royalists held: that the olde monarchies were a lost golden age, and that monarchy fell because of bad execution (basically what Janin says in his review, defending la Pompadour from Borel’s “attack” only to condemn Louis XV, claiming the people didn’t like monarchy because it wasn’t done right to them!)(there is a right way to do monarchy according to those guys, you just have to look at people like Louis XIV, a big fave who Borel doesn’t mention, Charlemagne, and I guess Louis IX)

However, even if the narrator had not mocked Patrick before, he had always had elements of a Candide/Justine type of character. He’s the naif hero who still believes in the world as a lawful place, that the laws of the status quo exist for the greater good (despite hating imperial England’s domain of Ireland) still believes in the natural good of the crown and the church, only to be brutally disillusioned.

But back to the King and his de facto Queen. These are the people who manage the fates of an entire nation? This is how much attention they pay to matter of the state??? This are the super-villains who could snap the lives of our heroes out just like that if they wanted to? As in other romantic novels (can’t help of thinking of the Vautrin novels, where his mental and physical strength can do very little -on occasion!!- against the more inept and gray employees of the state who are his opponents) the personal qualities of the heroes can do very little against social roles, and sometimes their opponents are far less than them, and yet they will win. Patrick is an epic poem of a main character both in his qualities and his appearance. And his opponents are so terribly prosaic. So banal. So base. Completely devoid of poetry. They live to eat and fuck, and avoid work (Pompadour seems more serious about handling the state to be fair). And yet they are antagonists not really because of any personal qualities, they are as regular and vulgar as can be. But they wield tremendous amount of undeserved, unearned power, in louis’ case he only had to be born, and Pompon is the fruit of royal favoritism. Having them be like this really brings the point home -whether Borel agrees or not with the idea that the monarchies of old were better- that this isn’t about a single bad king, this is about power being inherited by people who have no calling/ability or interest to govern. And this prosaic couple can and will crush the lives of better people than themselves.

[deleteddewewted]

Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader Part 3 (2/2):

Section 2 of Part 3 is here! I had a few ideas as to how this could have gone but I've decided to leave it this way mostly because my mind tends to wonder. Horny thoughts have plagued me for a few days so again, keeping it wholesome because i want any smut/sex scenes in the future to mean something between the reader and Shinsou's relationship. (Yes, we do plan to have nsfw content within the series in the future!)

For now please, enjoy the last part of the Sport Festival where our dear Shinsou is about to get the rare chance of seeing a different side of Midoriya.

"I don't ever wanna go, but my feet keep on moving and pushing me closer to you. I will never let you know. When I'm mulling it over and taking my time overdue." - (Belgium to Bordeaux by Canteen)

Part 3: Incel!Shinsou x F!Reader (1/2)

Part 4: Incel!Shinsou x F! Reader

He was winning, he just needed to push more. Shinsou just needed to grab Midoriya and it would all be over.

"You have so much Midoriya, yet you're greedy and keep it to yourself." Shinsou starts closing in on him, like any predator with it's incapacitated prey. Toying with it and making sure that it knows that in the moment, right now, they aren't going to make it out alive. Thats his plan, destroy Midoriya's will to fight and use his emotional hypersensitivity to make him give into whatever Shinsou wants from him. He grabs Midoriya and starts pushing him out of the ring. "This is it! I'll win and she'll see th-that...that i'm still..a-"

"I know, Shinsou." Midoriya lifts his head up, his eyes filled with something Shinsou has only seen in him when performing. Hate. Shinsou's used to it, but not from Midoriya. He didn't think the green haired boy was capable of genuine hatred.

"You hurt y/n for what? For a laugh? What did she do to you?" "A lot of things. They were all great, healthy."

"Shut up, you don't know anything!" Shinsou growls. An actual animalistic sound coming out of his throat and Midoriya's calm demeanor only made his blood boil with greater might.

"I do, and you're a real piece of work for doing that to her." Midoriya doesn't stop Shinsou's form from pushing him to the outskirts of the ring. It was his turn to play now.

"I'm kind of jealous of you, you know? Thanks to the shitty way life works, the shit cards I've been dealt, I've always been at a big disadvantage. But someone as blessed as you wouldn't understand that!"

"I get it. Even though you're right, I have been blessed. But thats not a reason to treat others like their disposable!" Midoriya was finally biting back, but it wasn't helping Shinsou in anyway. All this time he let himself be played by Midoriya. The bubbly happy guy in front of him wasn't a pushover like he thought, he was a planner, a risk taker. He was a great pretender, a great actor. Something Shinsou was never going to be out of his own doing because he lacked what Midoriya had. Confidence.

"You're lucky enough to have people who love and support you! It'll be so easy for you to reach your goal!" He's desperate, desperate for some validation that he isn't worthless. Some affection thats reassuring. Words that remind him that he is worth something and not a burden like his mother viewed him as. You gave him that and he fucked up! Goddammit why!

"Im not letting you win Shinsou, i'm not y/n. Im not someone you can push around. I don't know what's going on in your life but for what its worth stop being so damn selfish!" Midoriya wasn't going to lose to help save Shinsou's feelings. Whatever's going on with him, he had to figure it out on his own.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" He was going to lose because he's allowed Midoriya to see his emotions. He's going to lose because he was still a mess of anger and bitterness. He was losing mentally while physically Midoriya pushed him towards his own physical loss outside the perimeter of the ring.

He couldn't take it anymore, he was angry and needed to hurt. Needed a reminder of why he even bothers with all of this.

He punched Midoriya square in the face and the world goes silent. Everything was fair game during the Sport Festival, especially this game. Still, ground rules had been established, no face hits and no low blows. But he still didn't care, he needed more.

"Get out of this ring, you lucky brat!" Pure unadulterated anger and violence was surging through Shinsou's veins. Midoriya's bloody nose wasn't enough for him. He wanted to see the green haired boy cry! Wanted to make the other as miserable as he himself felt every.single.day.of.his.life!

But Midoriya won't allow him this one sick pleasure. He grabs Shinsou and throws him over his own body. Shinsou no longer felt the ground with his feet.

"You play villains? That's so cool!" Middle school was cruel, but the kids were crueler. He doesn't remember a time were he didn't want to leave this shitty school.

"I'm so jealous, Shinso. Imagine all the cool stuff you could do controlling people by pretending to be someone else." They wouldn't stop talking, he didn't care about what they had to say-

"Yeah, you can do any bad thing you want. And no one would ever know it was you. Just promise you won't manipulate us, okay?" "Shut up! Stop!" It was to much, he couldn't deal with this right now. Not again, please not again. Not after he spoke with-

"Heh... Everyone always says that. I'm used to people looking at me like I'm the bad guy, hah. But you know what?" He couldn't deal with this today. He found half truths not that long ago and he couldn't swallow them. He couldn't breathe.

"Im not."

He couldn't move. Back flat on the concrete floor as he heard the loud roars of the cheering crowd around him. Shinsou felt as useless as his former classmates would tell him he was. He couldn't yell or scream, he already embarrassed himself enough today that adding on to it would only make it worse.

"Do you need help getting up?" Midoriya wasn't taunting or furious anymore, genuine concern making itself perfectly clear to Shinsou even though he couldn't see him from his position on the floor. He didn't want his help but he did take in his kindness letting it wash over him and calm him down. Slowly, Shinsou gets up and straightens his clothes. Embarrassment wasn't a great feeling, nor was guilt. He pushed it again.

Midoriya and him exchange words and he slowly left to join his classmates at the stands. He didn't want to see the pity looks they'll him so he keeps moving forward towards the tunnels without giving his class a glanc-

"You were awesome out there, Shinso!" The first cheer.

"We're proud a' you!" The next.

"You didn't tell us you were that good!" And then the next one.

"Yeah, you're the star of our program!"

"I can't believe you put up such a great fight against the dude who was in first place earlier!"

Complements. Praise. Everything he always wanted was being given to him the moment he failed. He always thought that he needed to do something extreme, either good or bad, to gain praise. Yet here he was, feeling like shit and getting support. "Whats wrong with them? They saw I lost so why are they so happy for me?"

"Congratulations Shinsou!" Two words. Two words that people would glance at and move on from, yet he couldn't do that. Why? It was your voice. Sweet and full. A happiness to the voice he so longed for in the past few weeks. You were speaking to him, and yet hiding within the crowd of your guy's classmates. Shinsou turned slightly, now throwing his voice to Midoriya who was standing behind him holding his bloody nose.

"Even if it didn't work out this time, I'm not giving up. I'll get onto the Art Course, get recognized by a company, and then, I'll become a better artists than any of you!" Shinsou screamed back at Midoriya, "So be careful. You better not lose and make me look bad." And with that, Shinsou entered the tunnel, losing Midoriya but most importantly losing your voice. The further he got the colder the space became. He stopped once he could only hear the crowd faintly in the distance and held himself in his own arms.

He had it bad. He needed this today. He slowly lowered himself on to the concrete floor and cried for the first time in years. Holding himself and rocking himself slowly as he let out hiccuped breaths and small whimpers.

He lost today, but won the greater prize... your recognition.

If none of you are aware, this entire series/prompt started because of a personal experience with a person who i thought was a friend and in reality turned out to be a horrible person. I wanted to vent about it at first but i also saw no use for it since that wouldn't change anything. You can't redeem everyone and sometimes its impossible to forgive, so the Incel!Shinsou series mostly serves to show a more "realistic" redemption arc of a person trying to do better to save a relationship that held value and meaning to them and ended up ruining through bad actions. By having the reader not immediately forgive Shinsou and Shinsou learning from his mistakes, this adds value as to why he should be given a second chance by the reader.

Tag List: @blossominglark, @plusultra2dwhore

[bandgeek4life8]

Guardians - chapter two the lost city of atlantis

Chapter 1

WC: 3, 453

Season 1, Episode 2: The Lost City of Atlantis

Previously on Guardian in Jim's POV "The Nightmares have emerged once more." Pabbie told everyone.

"GREAT GRONKA MORKA!!" Blinky exclaimed.

"And they attend to assimilate an army. They already have the witch Gothel, the bogeyman Pitch Black, the dragon tamer Drago Bludvist with his mother of dragons Red Death, the prince Hans of Southern Isles and Duke of Weselton, the cursed bear Mor'du, the Pirate "Captain Hook" Killian James, and the Boggan Mandrake. And I have a list of who they want. From my visions. But only two people I wish to say it to: Vendel and... James Lake Jr. Because she wishes it."

"Who wishes for me to know?" I asked him.

"Starling."

Some people are chosen for this life and have no choice but to accept its transgressions. Others spend their life completely in the dark about this life we lead. Some, like me, choose to live this life. It is a lot of work for anybody. Not just anybody can get into this life and survive its trials and tribulations. But we were born for this. To become guardians. But I'm not a guardian yet. I'm just an apprentice.

|{[INSERT_OPENING_SEQUENCE]}|

"Welcome to the first meeting of the Druidia Order." I announced.

"Did you have to name us after a planet in your favorite Star Wars movie?" asked the raven-haired time-traveller Wilbur Robinson.

"Spaceballs is not a Star Wars movie, Wilbur." Currently undercover spy, Walter Beckett told him.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Did your dad teach you anything about Star Wars?" asked blonde enpath/ hockey-player from Wisconsin, Riley Anderson.

"Only that he hated the sequels, he loves the originals, and respects what the prequels tried to do." Wilbur said.

"Can we please get to the topic at hand please?" I asked everyone.

Everyone in the room grumbled out a yes and we continued with the precedings. Wow. That sounds way too formal for me.

"Well what can we do? We already made allies with the Arendelle trolls via Elsa and Anna. We had Grand Pabbie alert the Trollhunter of the Nightmares." said Ted Wiggins.

"Which means a group of you have to go find the essence stones." Megamind appeared with a plate of, "who wants cookies?"

"Are you growing soft on us, Meg?" Megamind basically growled at Wilbur for the nickname he used.

"I am trying to babysit Gru's oldest daughter and her friends." Megamind told him looking the kid dead in the eye.

"What do you know of the essence stones?" I asked him, ignoring the intense staredown happening between the two makes.

Megamind turned his attention away from Wilbur only for the time-traveller to blow a raspberry at him and Megamind to turn back and glare at him I rolled my eyes. The same old stupid antics. "I know where you can find the essence stone of the ocean."

"If you tell me we have to befriend Poseidon or-."

"It's in Atlantis." Megamind said.

"Or that." I facepalmed. "And how would you know that?"

"Because I have an evil underwater lair in the city of Atlantis." Cue another facepalm from me.

"And why...? You know what? I don't want to know. So how are we getting there?" I asked.

"It's not a matter of how we, but rather how who is getting there." Megamind said.

"That makes no sense whatsoever, dude." Hiro said as he walked into the room followed by Lucy Tuchi.

"Some of us will go on the mission while the rest research the rest of the essence stones." Megamind suggested.

"You know... your ideas are normally terrible. But this one is actually a good idea." Wilbur told him.

The alien growled. "Easy now, Megamind. When we heading out? And who is coming along for the ride?"

"You, Rayla, Ezran, Callum, Sisu, Hiccup, Jack, Light Furry, Walter, and Toothless." Megamind told us. "And you will leave tomorrow. After school."

"Alright. Before we do anymore planning, I need pizza." I walked over to where Hiro plopped the pizza on.

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL HERE]}| "

I cannot believe he has the audacity for this! He knows we're not on the best of terms, and yet he does this." I sighed.

"I'm sure he has a reason." said Hiro.

"It's Megamind. It's a stupid-ass reason." I told him.

Hiro sighed. "But you miss hanging out with Toby and Jim. And you-."

"Don't even finish that sentence. I know what you were going to say." Hiro gapped at me. "I know what you were going to say. Only three people know it. And one betrayed me."

My phone vibrated in my hoodie's pocket and I opened it up to see a text from my grandmother, Margaret. "Is that Marge? What she said?"

"She's wondering about the you-know-what with the you-know-who." I told him. She wants to know about James Lake Jr being the Trollhunter. Grandpa would not be pleased with this anyway. But he's dead. And he doesn't matter.

"You have gym next block right?" I groaned. Of course I forgot. And why of all days did we have to do the Pacer test today!

"And we're doing the pacer test today too!" I would have banged my head on a locker if we weren't coming from History. "Kill me now! Woe is me!"

"Stop being overdramatic. And I'm off my way to Robotics." Hiro said once we got to the hall where we would part ways.

"Don't take over the world of robotics without your team first." I called out to gim.

"Yeah, yeah. Just focus on making chemistry after gym, but preferably during." the smart-ass called back.

I'm gonna kill him one of these days. Just you wait, Hiro Hamada. I grumbled and continued on my way to the ends of the earth. Also known as gym. Because I lack the athletic ability of a worm. My arms are basically noodles before submerged in H20. I got dressed in my PE clothes and walked outside to the bleachers where I plopped myself down on. Gym. The one class I don't have my safety net to catch me. The one block where I feel alone. Completely and helplessly alone.

"Hey, [Y/N]. Mind if we sit here?" asked Toby.

It was just him and Jim. What on Earth are they up to? I scooted some ways away from my spot and patted the spot beside me. Jim took the spot beside me while Toby took the bench in front of us.

"We haven't hung out just the three of us in awhile, huh?" Toby remarked.

"You both seem busy since the semester started. I can't blame you for that one."  I told them. The pair shrugged at me, but it was a lying shrug. I would know. I do the same ones. "Anyway, what are we doing for our History Project, Jamie?" I looked over at him.

"I don't know. Wanna brainstorm some ideas after school?" Jim asked me.

"Can't. I have a family thing." Lying to them has gotten harder since I found out. Hopefully they don't catch. But they're idiots. They won't catch on... I hope. "I can come over tomorrow after school if you want."

"That... Th-th-th-that'll be gr-gr-gr-great." What's with the stammer? It's weird. "Oh, don't forget about Pig Zombies on Saturday."

"Don't worry. I have it all set in my calendar. So, what time is the movie?" I asked them.

Toby and Jim shared a look. Oh that is never good. "We don't actually know."

"Then, what are we going to do about Saturday?" I asked them.

"We're more of idea men." Like they're any close to being men. "Creating a plan is someone else's problem." Of course.

"You two haven't changed at all, have you? I'll get to work on that sometime this evening. You guys still have email, righr?" I asked them.

"Who still uses e-mail anymore?" Toby inquired.

"Good point. I'll just have Lucy drive us to the theater anyway." I replied. "So, how are you and Claire going, Jamie?"

"O-o-o-oh, m-m-me and Claire?" stammered Jim. That's strange.

"Yes, you and Claire. You two are dating, aren't you?" I asked him.

"Oh, y-y-yeah. We're g-g-g-good." Hmm. Peculiar. But Jim's always been like this when pertaining to Claire. Nothing suspicious about that.

I hope.

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL_HERE]}|

Jim

"So, you have a study date with [Y/N] tomorrow huh?" Claire teased me while we walked to Blinky's library.

"What-. Wait! You told her!" I exclaimed to Toby who was on my left side.

"Of course, I did. Dude, you've been hopelessly obliviously in love with this girl since she stole your first kiss on the monkey bars when we were nine. And she-."

"She clearly has feelings for you, but she's not gonna act upon them since you know we're fake dating and all that jazz." Claire said.

I sighed. "You're the smart one. Couldn't you have come up with something... um... better?"

"What? Because a wuss like you was going to ask her out if I didn't say we were dating?" Claire asked him, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

I sighed once more. She clearly had a point. And Tobes seemed to catch it too. "He tried to ask her if she wanted to go see Pig Zombie 6 for her sixteenth birthday, but dragged me along with them because he wussed out of calling it a date."

Claire tapped her chin in thought. I do not understand girls. Then, she did the thing where you smack your fist against your hand in an aha! idea moment. Which is what transpired next. "I have a perfect idea for your movie date on Saturday."

"Am I going to regret this?" I asked her.

"I hope not. I'm helping you whether you want me to or not." Yea me! Internal frown.

We made it Blinky's library in which the four arm troll was talking animatedly to Vendell. About Essence Stones? What the fuzz buckets are those?

"Um, what are the Essence Stones?" I piped up.

"The Essence Stones are the only thing that can combat the Oncoming Storm." Vendel explained.

"Which is why we should be looking for them! We already know where one is! The Sea Stone!" Blinky told him.

"I already told you the Starling has this under control. This is her fight. Not ours. We shouldn't-."

"But then why have Pabbie tell us about the resurgence anyways?!" Blinky cut him off. I don't think Blinky has ever interrupted Vendel before. This is a first.

"Because to warn us of an even greater danger, Blinkous!! One that we have to face on our own! As Trolls!" the elder roared.

I never saw a look of fear as intense as the look that crossed Blinky's face when Vendel told him that. A greater danger? Even Aaarrrggghh! and Draal had the same look as Blinky. What did it all mean? Vendel left the library.

"I don't care what the goat says. We're getting the Sea Stone." Blinky told us.

"And how do we acquire it?" asked Claire.

"Hate Gyre." Aaarrrgghh! cried. Oh.

"And where would we find the Sea Stone?" Toby asked. "It's underwater right? And we can't breathe in water? So is it in an aquarium? Washed up on a beach?"

"I'll tell you where when we get to the Gyre." Claire, Toby, and I shared a look before shrugging our shoulders and following Blinky to the Gyre.

When we got there, we reached the Gyre and hopped in. "So, where are we going?"

"Under the sea. In an underwater palace where there is no water inside located in what you humans refer to as The Bermuda Triangle. Get ready for Atlantis." And before the three of us could protest, Blinky put in the coordinates and we zipped off towards... did he really say Atlantis? And the Bermuda Triangle?

But I didn't have time to question it as we arrived in a palace? And our clothes were soaking wet. But we never submerged in water? You know what? I shouldn't question it. Me and my friends huddled for warmth. It'll be awhile before we're dry. But why isn't- you know what? Never mind. I don't care.

"Okay, so where do we go first?" asked Toby.

"We head for the treasure room. The Jewel of Atlantis is the Sea Stone." Blinky told us.

"Why are we wet, but you aren't?" asked Claire.

"No clue." Blinky shrugged his shoulders.

The three of us grumbled but followed after Blinky with Aaarrrgghh! and Draal taking the rear. This is going to be a long evening. Our little group trudged, our squeaky footprints giving our location to anyone who would be here. And I think someone was here. Because a familiar ball of silver and blue was charging at us. Not us. Me. Followed by a march larger greenish-blue dragon.

"Hi, Azymondias." I said to the baby dragon when he jumped into my arms.

"I see you humans have already met the Prince. Starling's Zym seems to like you Mr Lake." the green-ish blue dragon said. Um... do dragons normally...

"YOU TALK?!?!" Thanks for that, Tobes.

"Of course, I do. I'm Sisu. Starling sent me after Little Azymondias to make sure he stayed out of trouble." Why aren't Blinky, Aarrrgghh!, and Draal freaking out about there being another dragon? And the elf being here?

"You six, now-seven, looking for the Treasure Room?" asked Sisu.

I shivered as a breeze went by. Why was there a breeze? We're in a dry castle underwater! This is just too weird.

"We were headed that way right now!" Blinky told the dragon.

Azymondias coughed. Or sneezed? I don't know. But he zapped me and I yelped and I'm... dry? Well alot dryer than before. Uh, thank you. Living dryer thay could kill me at any given moment. But you're still cute. So you're forgiven if you do.

"Well I wouldn't go that way! That's where Meg put his evil lair at." Sisu told us.

"Lair?" "Meg?"

"Meg is what the time-traveler calls Megamind. And he placed a lair here when he was going through his 'evil' phase." I did not know Dragons did air quotes.

"Time Traveler? Like the Doctor? Or Loki?" askes Toby.

"Looks like a mix of Matt Smith and Loki as a tween with too much hair gel. Alright, kids follow me." Sisu told us.

Zym appeared on my shoulder, wrapping his small body around on my shoulder and we followed the hopping dragon towards the treasure room. We had reached the treasure room, avoiding all the traps (that was on the ceiling for some strange reason). We arrived there. And Sisu peered inside before letting us enter. Strange.

But I couldn't help peering over Sisu's sboulder "Are you really angry that the Trollhunter keeps unknowingly stealing your pet?" That sounded like... no it can't be.

"Azymondias is not my pet. My pet sounds like I chose to take care of him. The bundle of zappy madness chose me to take care of him. So if anything, I'm his pet." Please tell me that's not who I think it is. But the-I'm guessing- Startouch Elf looks nothing like her. Not one bit. Well maybe except for the nose. And the eyes.

"You make absolutely no sense. And yet you love him anyway." the other voice said. A male with slick-back hair. This must be the time-traveler Wow. Sisu was spot on.

"Kids, easy now. We wouldn't want this to get into the wrong hands. Not this close to the Cotillion." A brunette male that appeared to be the oldest of the group. Why does he look so familiar to me?

"I have a question for you, pig snout. Meg said you wouldn't be here. Why the hell are you here? And why are you even here?" the elf asked.

"I stowed away because none of you are smart." the time-traveller said.

"Says the royal dumbass." the female elf sighed. "I'm so young and yet I feel so old." she emphasized. I was half expecting her to do a dramatic fall like they always seem to do in soap operas notthatIwatchsoapoperasinthefirstplacethat'sabsurd.

"I already knew that, dumbass." time-traveler said.

"Go on, Trollhunter." Sisu used her tail to push me toward the elf's group to retrieve the essence stone. "Introduce yourself."

And suddenly I stumbled upon the room making the group's attention turn to me. "Um...hi." Cue the awkward wave. "I'm... James Lake Jr? I'm the... Trollhunter." I held out the Amulet of Merlin. I could practically sense Toby and Claire facepalming at this.

"Starling, I think this one is for you to handle." I now noticed the brunette boy that stood beside the other elf. Is that... Callum Schlott?? Um... I hope if that is him, he doesn't tell [Y/N] about this.

"I am the one they refer to as Starling as you must know. And we don't need you here. To help us." The girl's hand were running up and down a strand of her waist length periwinkle hair. [Y/N] did the same thing when she had long hair. Not the time Jim.

"I think we do. Because the Seastone is missing if you've forgotten." the other elf said. She sounds like Rayla. And sort of looks like her too.

"THE SEASTONE IS GONE!?!?!?" Blinky exclaimed.

"Unfortunately so. Now, one advantage turns out to be a setback." I didn't notice the other brunette who had a black dragon that was acting like a cat by his feet.

"Do you have any leads?" asked Claire as she stepped forward.

"Just a Roman Penny. No clue from where though." Starling told us. "Now, I think it's time you kids return to California. Don'tyouthink."

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL_HERE]}|

"So Atlantis was a flopp?" I had already told Draal about the whole atlantis situation.

Luckily mom had another night shift at the hospital, so Draal could walk around freely while I made dinner for myself. Elbow Pasta and Meat Sauce it appears to be.

"Yes, it was, Draal." I turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels to find the one I wanted. "At least, I met Starling. She was not what I was expecting."

"Most elves aren't. You humans expect them to be small and cute because of the Claus, but they aren't." Draal told me.

"Actually, I think," I found what I was looking for. The French food competition show the World's Greatest Chef Competiton. "she was the exact opposite of what all of you were saying. Sure she was a tad harsh to us, but I think she didn't want to involve us in the Essence Stones. Like she didn't want anymore added help. I don't know." A knock sounded on the door.

"Were you expecting anyone?" asked Draal.

"Not that I know. Toby and Claire wouldn't knock. They'll just barge on in." I told him.

And before I got to the door, the door opened to reveal a boy with white hair, incredibly pale skin wearing a blue sweatshirt and brown trousers. "Don't be such a pussy, Hiccup." That was Sisu.

"Yeah, we're only here since Zym wants the trollhunter to be his dragon rider and to train him how to combat magic." white hair said.

"Um... what are you doing at my house?" I asked them as I held my wooden spoon in my hand, ready to strike them if necessary.

"You and Punzie would be great friends, squirt." The platinum blonde ruffled my brown hair to make it messy. My hair now looks like the dragon boy's hair.

"We're here to train you. I'm Hiccup. And this is Jack. Jack Frost." Wait. What? I'm lost. "I live over in Berk Manor. And you have wandered in a den where you cannot get out of." the brunnette introduced.

"Which is why Starling didn't want you to get involved. By trying to help us with the Seastone, you and your friends have put a target on your back. Starling didn't want that. But now we have to help you. To train you. Hiccup here is a Dragon Rider. And even though Azymondias isn't big enough to be ridden. He will be. I suspect sooner than you think, so he's going to train you to ride him. And I and many others are going come here to help you train against magic. Since the people who will come after you to kill you will have magic." Jack Frost told me. Now I'm really lost.

"So let's begin."

@trollhuntersfanatic

[napeoftheneck]

The Rule of Beasts (Eren Yeager x Warrior!reader)

MAJOR ATTACK ON TITAN SEASON 4 SPOILERS !!!

Hey bestie! Sorry this took so long, writing for Eren is a STRUGGLE on its own but pairing that with a Marleyan reader makes it seem like I’m writing the 95 Theses. I’ve done it though! I just want to thank you guys for requesting despite having no teaser to see what I write like! I appreciate it. Hope u enjoy :)

Title: The Rule of Beasts

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Blood, canon-typical violence, war, depiction of depression/trauma/PTSD brought from war, swearing, major injuries, Eren is mean as hell in this (I use she/her pronouns for the reader in this as it was in the request! If you want any changes, please feel free to dm me or submit an ask!). ALSO, the quote used for the title is one I've seen EVERYWHERE, but I can't find who originally said it. If anyone knows, let me know!!

Major spoilers for Attack On Titan season 4 below the cut!!!

“We’re not friends. We were never friends.”

Since your return to Marley some years ago, those words persecuted you like a condemnation. The dismay they brought you was incessant, though it was nothing compared to the agony concealing it brought.

Reiner seemed to be handling it well. He could look his mother in her wavering eyes and recount the story of the potato girl with little faltering and he could sit before Gabi, Udo, Zofia and Falco to give impudent answers on the spot.

You were nothing akin to it.

Upon your return, you were no longer the dominant and capable warrior sent by Marley to scour Paradisians. You were a husk.

The way they gawked at you, whispering as you passed and lowered their voices to a soft, below-octave hum as if you could break if they spoke any louder told you everything about how they had seen you now. Now, alongside Reiner, you were shaken.

You were a child that allowed herself to be shaken by the horrors of a war you weren't prepared to fight in. Not alongside Reiner, anyway.

The fact that you had survived had been a testament to nothing. It meant nothing.

Without your frequent appearance past public displays of your status, you meant nothing. When you returned home, your facade crumbled. You were plagued with thoughts of what you had done to them - to him.

You slept and dreamt of the moment where Eren Jeager had confided in you and you looked him in the eyes and swore to cleanse the world of those beasts that killed his mother. You shared tender moments with him knowing that those beasts were your friends - that they were you. You nodded along as he spoke of a world where you could live together, peacefully, without Titans. Meanwhile, your true allies would be waiting for you that dawn to plan how you could ruin them more.

Whenever you dreamed (it wasn’t often) it was of him. Sometimes it would be of moments you weren’t present for - of the moment he heard your name when listing missing soldiers. Often, it wasn’t.

“Don’t touch me, don’t even-don’t even look at me! You took years of my life from me and I’ll never get them back. Do you understand that?!”

There it was again. It happened every time. You were on the branch, you felt the thick air heave through your lungs, yet you felt like you were drowning in it.

You knew the situation well now. He had no hands to fight you with. Ymir watched from beside him. If you looked up, Reiner would be stood tiredly, Bertholdt would be slumped against the trunk. “(Y/n), just let it go.” He would sigh, raking a large, scarred hand over his face.

You wished you listened. You never did. No matter how many times you’ve dreamed this dream, you never said what you needed to. You always said the same thing; “Eren,” it was always so tired. Your vision would always fade. “I wrote you a letter every day where I told you everything in vivid, drawn-out detail - I confessed to everything - but I couldn't ever show you. I couldn’t hurt my friend like th-“

“We’re not friends. We were never friends.”

A loud, echoing roar sounds from beyond the stage before you and you are momentarily struck from your daydream.

The declaration of war was upon you and, deep down, you knew something gruesome, something catastrophic would come of it. You weren't dull. Yet, there you sat, complicit. The crimson band around your arm burned your skin even under your coat like a crucifix upon the skin of the unholy.

You are grounded now, suddenly conscious of where you were.

The coldness of the night bit harshly your nose and ears, tearing you from whatever remaining stupor that had a hold on you.

Your eyes snap upward, toward the piercing flashes that now emitted from under the stage. People clambered around you, squealing and shoving their way past you. You angle your head to see what had caused such a commotion, but it didn’t take you long to discern the state of the audience.

Rubble, blood and fleeing townspeople flooded it.

From your spot behind the stage, you could see the resulting catastrophe clearly. However, it’s when you look up that left you staggering backwards.

Him.

It was unmistakably him, though the attack Titan looked much larger than you retained. It was much greater, now, because you were below it. You were at its mercy.

No longer, like before, were you in his territory. You weren’t the charlatan among others, he was. Because he didn't belong here. He was a threat to your people, your land; no longer to his own.

The fear made the damage look grim; it made him look massive.

Eren was in there.

You think of it and suddenly you are 15 again. Suddenly, you are brushing his hair, coaxing him to sleep through rough rain and thunderstorms. You suddenly feel his arms around you again, you feel the warmth from the night of your graduation.

You fought with yourself, biting back the feeling of familiarity, of recognition.

He wasn’t your friend anymore; he was the enemy now.

You didn’t want to fight him.

You just watched him kill what seemed to be hundreds of your people, and you were certain he had brought his own people with him, but you couldn't find it within yourself to do what you knew you must.

Someone grabbed your arm, and you momentarily tear your eyes from the familiar beast.

“Ms. (L/n)! You’re safe!” You don’t recognise the woman speaking to you, but she grasps your sleeve as though she knew you well. Her hand was coated thickly with crimson. A child weeps behind her dress. She weeps something about having lost her daughter to the rubble and she begs for you to do something.

Your expression hardens as she’s whisked away by a guard, who orders something about getting to safety. You watch her disappear into a large crowd as you search your pocket for the familiar coldness of your switchblade.

Eren Yeager had killed your people.

He had, in this stunt, mowed through thousands at this point and surely would do what he could do to make his destructive way to your friends.

You flick it along your palm.

Violence for violence was the rule of beasts. You would get to him before he could.

[milkytheholy1]

Apocalyptic Love: Chapter 14: Home Sweet Home

Tmnt masterlist. Ultimate masterlist. AL series links

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Donnie's eyes widened, from the looks of the address alone you knew it meant something to him, "It's gonna be a long journey." he nagged, not quite ready to take his eyes away from the paper just yet.

"It'll be worth the drive." Raph huffed, placing the paper onto the small table so he could cross his arms, the normal Raph stance. You stepped forward from the corner you stood in, bumping past their shoulders to get a better look at the slip of paper.

Picking it up in your hands, you traced your fingertip along the crinkled corner, the paper, similar to the rest of the book, was a cream colour. Long gone were the clean white papers, all that remained was time and dirt.

"Who does this address belong to?" you asked, tone curious. You didn't recognise it as being a part of the city, and you weren't all that well adept with knowledge of the greater area surrounding New York. You had of course heard of the border, eavesdropping on random rebel members when carrying out the small riot. Yet, you had never once thought about researching the topic, finding out more information. Although, you supposed if you did you'd also find a jail cell with your name on it.

The Foot didn't want people to leave, didn't want them to have a free life. No. No, they wanted to rule, to take control.

"How did you even get this?" Donnie's voice cut your empty thinking, blinking back into a harsh reality you saw the two chatting away, one question after another.

"Does it matter how I got it? Look, the important thing is we know where he is, that means we got a safe house away from the city!" Raph argued, he had been dodging the questions rather easily, either he was really good at lying or he was scared of telling the truth.

Donnie shook his head, running all possible scenarios through his brain, "No, you can't have just gotten it, who gave it to you?" he was particular about it, he didn't want to fall into another trap, another false hope. Raph turned his back to Donnie, moving to grab the paper on the table, "I thought you'd be happy about this! Finally a sense of somethin' normal, you'd both get to talk about Ap-"

"Don't." Donnie threatened, a metal finger raising to poke Raph's chest. Donnie's eyes held hatred, but a soft sadness lingered there too. Donnie remained quiet after that, too caught up in his own mind and memories, you and Raph waited. Hoping for him to waver back into existence, into the present, into the now.

"Ok, but who is this mystery guy we keep talkin' ab-"

"Raph, even if we were going to do this, it's too risky. We'd need a plan at the very least." Donnie cut you off, eyes closed, finger rubbing his chin. Your brows furrowed, irritated by the intrusion, "Why is it too risky? Who is-"

"I got a plan, we leave this dump then go there. See? Easy." Raph boasted, a proud smirk on his face. Even though you had no clue what they were referring to, you and Donnie both stared dumbfounded at the turtle in front of you.

"What?" you questioned, although you didn't intend to say it out loud.

"We can't just go on foot, that would take too long. We'd be caught by Karai before we even left the city's limits." Donnie reasoned, Raph threw his arms in the air, aggravated, "Well, what do ya suppose we do?"

"Hmm, I've got an idea...but it might be dangerous," Donnie hummed, looking between you both to gauge your reactions. Raph's angered frown suddenly formed into a smirk, fists clashing together with an eager look in his eyes, "I like dangerous," he beamed.

"How dangerous are we talking here, Don?" you asked, weird how you were currently the voice of reason, now you knew how Leo felt all this time.

"We need to go to the lair, I can get what we need from my old lab."

"The lair? Donnie are you insane, wait let me rephrase that, Donnie you're insane!" Raph screamed, eyes frantic, "We can't go back to the lair, they nearly shot Mikey last time we got close to that place."

"I know, I know. But, if we want a chance to get outta here then we need to go back to the lair, it's our only chance."

"Ooh, you guys have a lair, that sounds so cool!" the severity of the situation hadn't quite hit you yet, you had practically dulled out their worry about being shot and was instead focused on the idea of a lair, a hideout, a secret cove. You had always wanted one as a kid, just to go and sit alone for hours at a time.

"It was cool, for a while at least. We spent most of our lives growing up in that place, I learnt how to build my first engine there." Donnie mused, welling up at the memory of it, "We learned how to fight and work together in the dojo, and Mikey learnt how to cook down there. He he, and all the times Raph chased Leo around the t.v because he beat his score in pinball."

"What happened to it?" you asked, Donnie opened his mouth to speak but Raph cut him off. Grabbing a sai from his hip holster, Raph stabbed the weapon into the wooden table, leaving the metal standing with splinters surrounding it.

"The Kraang and Foot attacked us after the bomb went off two years ago. They didn't know if we died or not, we were able to get them all before they could tell Karai we were alive." he seethed, pent up anger and frustration coursing through his veins.

"The Foot destroyed it, just like how they destroy everything," he whispered out, head sulking towards his feet. You stepped towards him, placing a gentle hand against his right shoulder, "Raph" you breathed out, but he shrugged you off. Pushing away, he grabbed the sai and moved to the exit, "C'mon, we betta get movin' before they start patrols."

--

The sewers were the last place you'd think could hold a super-cool hideout, the smell alone put you off. Raph had took lead since he was the self-appointed leader of your merry group, Donnie wading behind you, it was like a protective muscle sandwich.

The tunnels felt endless, any horror could reach out a clutch you, drag you away to never be seen again. The dark didn't help ease your mind either, only intensifying the feeling of being watched, but you had to trust the turtles; afterall, they claimed to know this place like the back of their shell.

"Aah, nothing like the smell of the sewers," Donnie teased, breathing in the air like it was nothing but fresh. You gawked at him, finding it a mistake when the fumes engulfed your mouth, you're never going to get used to this smell, hell, you're never going to be able to get this smell out of your clothes.

You assumed you were getting closer to the entrance, rusted metal you assumed were the Kraang and Footbots, the brothers spoke of, littered the tunnels. Before you had realised it, you were out of the sewers and into an abandoned subway station, yet the smell still lingered.

Donnie and Raph took lead together, their eyes going white, it sent a shiver down your spine. You seemed to recall seeing their eyes like that before, on the day you met if you remembered correctly, the big fight in Time's Square. It was creepy then and it sure as hell was creepy now. With their weapons drawn and raised, they scouted the large entrance, easily flipping over to the turnstiles. You peaked past the bricked wall and caught them rolling about the floor, ducking their heads into rooms then coming back out again and moving onto the next one.

"All clear," Raph huffed, standing straight but still on the defensive, though he had to admit it was nice seeing this place again. You finally took a step into the lair, your eyes instantly drawn to the concrete seats and punctured beanbags.

"Woah, this place looks awesome." you gasped, finger writing in the dust that settled onto the pinball machine, the legendary pinball machine from what Donnie had said. The glass was cracked, red splotches covering the whole thing, gruesome.

"Yeah, well it looked a lot betta when it wasn't totally trashed," Raph spoke, falling onto the concrete couch like it was a natural instinct, hands thrown behind his head as he relaxed. Donnie had been quiet this whole time, too busy staring around the place, inspecting it for traps. He walked up the steps to the dojo, the pools that were usually a dark blue colour tinged green and brown, "Ugh," he groaned.

"Hey, Raph! A little help?" he asked, trying and failing to budge open the dojo doors, "Something must have broken from the inside, I'd repair it but there's really no point." Raph had stomped up next to him, cracking his knuckles then getting to work. You watched as the boys heaved the door open, pushing and pulling with all their strength, eventually, the door gave way and opened.

"This is where you guys trained?" you said astounded, eyes gleaming at the dusted weapons held to the wall. Raph rolled his eyes but acted nonchalantly about the whole thing, "Yeah, we pretty much had the best."

"Would you guys ever teach me how to use some of this stuff?"

"Pfft, nah." Raph laughed, leaning against the willowed tree, no leaves gracing any branch with their beauty, "I mean, I wouldn't, bet Don would though." You turned to face the turtle mentioned, watching as he was caught in a longing gaze with a metal fan on the ground.

"Donnie?" you questioned, he crouched onto his knees, feeling that familiar sting of tears in his eyes. With his right hand, he traced over the now blunt edges of the fan, unaware of the eyes following his every movement. He squeezed his eyes shut, begging his brain to not cry, he promised himself he wouldn't.

"Donatello?"

He stood straight, turning his back on the fan and moving to his lab, the familiar clatter of the door opening was all Raph needed to know. Turning back to Raph, you questioned him with your eyes before using your words, "What was that all about, is he okay?" Raph's gaze flickered to the black fan, slowly turning red with rust, "It's...a long story."

You urged him to continued, Raph rolled his head back, apprehensive, "We knew anotha' human, her name was April, she was the first human to ever see us. We saved her dad a few times from the Kraang, she and Donnie sorta had a thing goin' on, she was trainin' to become a kunoichi; pretty good at it too. She was in the lab where the bomb went off, she...didn't make it. We all took it pretty hard, we lost a lot that day, but Donnie took it the hardest."

"Oh, Raph I'm so sorry,"

Raph wiped his wrist against his eyes, quickly drying up the fallen tears and masking his emotions, "Nah, there wasn't anything we could do, shit happens and we move on, right?" You shook your head, knowing the feeling of loss pretty well by now, "Right," you confirmed.

"AHAHAHAHAH! YESSSS! OH BABY YES!" cheers came from Donnie's lab, the genius himself poking his head out to tell you all to get a move on. You and Raph ran to the lab, dodging all the debris on the floor to get there in one piece. You didn't have time to marvel at all the sights, your eyes already drawn to the biggest thing in the room.

"Woah," you gaped, eyes twinkling in it's heavenly light. Donnie stood to the side, wide grin on his face showcasing his gap tooth quite nicely, his arms were held high pointing to the massive truck like carriage. Raph stepped towards his brother, fingers running over the cracked spraypaint, "Don, you had this here this whole time!" he roared, waking you up slightly.

Donnie shook his head repeatedly, justifying his actions, "Well, yes and no. You see, I had taken the Shellraiser-"

"The Shellrasier, ugh, that's such a rad name!" you praised, Donnie smiled but silenced you quickly so he could carry on, "Shhh, but thank you. Anyway, I had taken the Shellraiser out a few days after, we'll call it the end, but the Foot noticed it straight away and shot at me. Soo, I brought it back here to fix her up when a bunch of Kraang came from nowhere and chased me out. I left her in defence mode, no one could get in or out unless they had a key."

"Please tell me ya got the key?" Raph chided, already bored. Donnie scoffed and pulled his left arm in front of him and aimed a fingertip at the lock, instantly his index finger changed and adjusted to the shape; giving him easy access inside. The door opened wide, the smell taking you all back a few steps, "I should have expected that to happen," Donnie hissed, coughing out the taste of rotten pizza.

You gave the Shellraiser a once over, the outside had a few dents and scorch marks, the paintwork was patchy and peeling off, she needed some love. Donnie leaned against the bonnet, arms folded over his chest in confidence, "I can get this bad boy running in no time!" he then patted the side, a loud clang echoed around the lair as something dropped to the floor, "Ahaha, did I say no time, I meant a few hours."

[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 1

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.4k summary — Taehyung gets terrible news and finds himself in a delicate situation

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

The past month has been a complete blur. If you asked Taehyung to narrate the course of events after the moment he had been in charge of his niece, he wouldn’t be able to, especially when that small time frame included the one event he thought he’d never attend this quickly in his lifetime —

Hwiin got a little startled after he answered the door. While gauging his mood after several weeks of silence, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sullen man who seemed absent.

He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was fully covering his eyes and had been dyed black, she was just at that moment able to notice it’d never been that long before.

The small heels of his shoes echoed loudly inside as he shuffled towards the living-room.

The gloomy winter sky, visible through the wide windows, narrowed the penthouse and gave the impression they lived in a black and white movie.

The shades of grey clashed unpleasantly with the barely audible cartoons displayed on the wide flat screen where Hina was sitting in front of. She hardly glanced Hwiin’s way.

She removed her purse and coat and put them on the couch while Taehyung kissed and whispered words to his niece. He didn’t get any response either. He stood up and joined Hwiin.

“I didn’t know how to do this-” he trailed softly as her eyes followed his hands feebly unfolding a paper with her eyes. He cleared his throat constricted with sorrow, “I wrote a couple of things down. If I forgot anything, send a text.”

She took it from him and realised she hadn’t said anything yet. What were you supposed to say in this situation, she wondered. The man she thought she knew so well almost struck her as a stranger and left her struggling for the right words.

Hwiin carefully looked up at him and felt her heart hurting at his sight. She should’ve been there for him those past weeks. She became angry with herself the longer she stared at his forlorn expression.

“Taehyung...” She hugged him tightly, as her way to make it up to him. He remained still. He didn’t want Hina to see him break down and cry.

“Thank you,” he only managed to whisper before she took a step back.

She quietly watched him walk out and never before had she felt a greater need to be by his side. She didn’t do anything of this sort.

She walked around the couch to sit next to the little girl she had been requested to look after for the day and tried to empty her mind. All she wanted was for this day to end.

So did he.  

___________________________________________

He didn’t seem present during the entirety of the funeral.

His parents, he used to be so close to but had drawn away from after his debut as an idol, didn’t even manage to make him say anything. They didn’t bother him about it and respected his own way of mourning the family loss.

Taehyung could sense his brother’s in-laws itching to ask him about Hina but held themselves.

While he made other attendees think he looked elsewhere and “too expressionless” in their opinion, he’d actually been doing his best to keep it to himself. He couldn’t tell what helped him hide his emotions, it was so unlike him but he had held steady.

He was right behind his home’s door when he heard Hina’s cries before he even walked in.

Worry instantly frowned his face as he found Hwiin holding the little girl in her arms, soothing her.

“She’s been crying the whole time since she woke up from her nap,” she informed him with a hint of despair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hina looked at him and he felt his feet naturally pulling him towards her when her arms stretched outward in his direction.

He held her closely and she tightened him to herself, burying her face in his neck.

He would never know for sure but she sounded grief-stricken and gave him the impression that he was the only one left capable of assuaging her.

Taehyung felt his legs give in and knelt down.

He was finally giving in.

Tears, held deeply back within, coursed down in an unbroken stream to dampen her dress. His body hiccoughed his ache so violently, it seemed it wanted to retaliate for the strains he’d inflicted himself.

Hwiin watched silently with sorrowful eyes as the two of them sought comfort in each other. She caught herself wondering if his niece somehow understood she’d never see her parents again.

__________________________________________

Taehyung never questioned his brother’s wish to have him take care of his daughter if something were to happen. He isn’t living the ideal kind of life to raise a toddler and there are many to criticize him about it, his manager being the first of them, but having Hina feels surprisingly right.

He’s grateful to have her keeping his mind off things but she also reminds him unintentionally of her father and the other way around will inevitably happen.

He sometimes ponders the doubts he has as a caretaker, unpleasant thoughts that come flooding his mind every time he’d fail doing the right thing or get rejected by her; he gives a chance to others scenarios playing out different outcomes but they never satisfy him.

He seeks comfort in the reality that he needs a lot of time to get better at it and that there’s no reason to rush. It’ll give him enough to make his mind about the way he’ll have to address their reality one day.

One of his priorities is to make sure his home has everything his niece would need. This meant visiting his brother’s empty house. Hwiin had asked him if he’d need her but he preferred to be on his own and planned not to linger longer than necessary.

__________________________________________

“You didn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about the few shows left,” Hwiin suddenly initiates, locking her phone.

Taehyung sighs when Hina whines at his umpteenth attempts to keep her from drawing on the wall. Defeated, he stands up to show his manager out.

“Did you hear from Seojun?”

“Nope. I sent him a text a few days ago. He never answers my calls.”

“I can’t see myself going anywhere with her. And I’m definitely not bringing her with me.”

It’s Hwiin’s turn to sigh, although she does it out of light exasperation. “What about my babysitter idea?”

“Out of question.” She lifts her head at his sudden firm tone. “I don't want her to be around strangers.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from him anymore? Taehyung, you can’t stay at home indefinitely.”

“If I have no choice-” He cuts off himself. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

She pinches her lips and cranes her neck up to stare somewhere in the empty hallway, keeping her calm.

Leaning on the hand he’s holding the door with, Taehyung tilts his head to glance at her with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll call him myself.”

She looks back at him and blinks slowly, thankful. They say their goodbyes and he closes the door.

When he comes back, Hina’s still putting the finishing touches to her art and Taehyung ponders the thought of throwing the felt tips away once she’s done with them.

He plops himself down on the couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. He quickly finds his bodyguard’s number and makes a phone call. The line rings once.

“Taehyung!”

“H-hi,” he answers, surprised at the man’s quick answer. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m happy you called! I’m doing really good. What about you?”

“I’m okay- I think.”

“I know you’ve heard it when we last talked but I’m really, really sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m doing okay, ‘promise.”

Seojun doesn’t need to see him to doubt his words but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He tries to change the subject, “How’s the little one doing?”

“Good…” Taehyung’s gaze is directed at Hina's long hair. “I still didn’t get one word from her though.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll talk when she’s ready. You shouldn’t force these things.”

Taehyung hums in thought. “How did your break go? How’s everyone ?”

“Very good. Everyone’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear that!” Taehyung smiles a lazy grin and remembers the purpose of his call. “Seojun, I’m sorry I bring this a little abruptly but- when do you think you’ll be coming back? Hwiin told me she tried to contact you-”

“Ah yes,” he suddenly exclaims. “I actually wanted to talk to you directly.”

Amused, Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly. “Right.”

“I’ve never liked the way she looked down on people. But you do well to bring that up.”

He frowns a little more, anticipating.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming back anytime soon, Taehyung.” There’s a short pause. “I've been thinking about it lately and we’ve talked a lot with my wife… The fact is that- my family misses me and I miss them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say immediately, “I’m sorry to hear that... But I understand.”

“Really? It’s just that- they’ve barely seen me the past six years and I thought maybe I needed to extend that break for a little longer while.” Seojun feels terrible now that he’s brought the news. As if the death of his brother wasn’t enough of a change.

“I totally do- I just- I don’t know what to do to keep working and look after my niece at the same time. I mean, th- there’s no one else I trust equally to look after her when I can’t.”

“I know and I’ve made sure you guys wouldn’t be left hanging.” He’s quick to reply, “I found someone to take over. Your agency’s already abreast of it. They’re okay to hire that person but they told me they wouldn’t make any decision until they get your last word.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“It’s actually a woman, she’s around your age. She’s attended the same security school I did and was the top of her class. I know her personally and was the one who offered to take the helm. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to stand in for me.”

Taehyung would never doubt Seojun. They regard each other as family, so if Seojun trusted that woman enough to take charge of his responsibilities, he wouldn’t question him further.

“Okay.”

And it’s not like he could think of a better solution to tell Hwiin.

Seojun is relieved when he hears his answer, however he can feel he doesn’t seem totally convinced.

“I promise you, you won’t miss me once she starts.”

___________________________________________

“Hina,” complains Taehyung. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked mashed carrots.”

He’s helpless and covered in what once has been her lunch. She’s on the verge of crying and shaking her legs, irritated. Her arm sways her small plate and Taehyung catches it before she makes an even bigger mess. She starts whining loudly.

“One second,” he mutters while cleaning her stained face before standing up to take her out of the high chair. She stops crying and leaves to watch cartoons still on T.V.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be in the bedroom,” he announces like he doesn’t know he’ll be ignored and leaves.

The doorbell rings a couple of minutes after, taking both Taehyung and Hina by surprise.

Seeing her uncle nowhere around, she stands up to totter toward the entrance holding onto her soft toy. Taehyung just got rid of his dirty clothes when he decides to come out only dressed in a pair of red boxers, remembering he’s expecting Hwiin to come by.

He finds Hina trying to reach for the handle, perched on her tippy-toes.

“Let me help you,” he smiles lightly at her when he looks down, seeing her small face after she craned her neck to the fullest. He taps in the security code and opens and she hurries to push it wide open.

“Hello.”

Hina walks to go behind him at the sight of a stranger. There’s a short silent while that lasts awfully long the second Taehyung understands he’s in his underwear and that he doesn’t recognize you.

“You’re not Hwiin,” he trails quietly.

You shake your head looking back at him very calmly.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his niece hiding behind his leg, peeking shyly at you. You squat at her level and blood rushes up Taehyung’s cheeks.

“You’re Hina, right?” You look at her. “This is for you.”

He pulls himself together. “You didn’t have to,” he chuckles abashed.

His niece stares at the toy piano you offer her. You press one key to make a sound and lit it up in hopes to get her pleased with it.

Taehyung can’t help but think a gift is the last thing she deserves after the tantrum she threw just minutes ago. “Say thank you, Hina.”

She carefully takes it from you and there’s a hint of a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Who’s Hwiin?” You gaze up at Taehyung.

Shit. You need to get up. He needs to put on some clothes, he thinks.

“My manager. Are you-”

“Y/N, your new bodyguard.” You straighten up with your hands behind you.

“Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He feels Hina, pulling the hem of his boxers and swiftly takes her in his arms. She keeps an iron grip on the toy. “Uh- Please, come in.”

You step inside when he moves away and closes the door behind you. He stares at you as you take a look around, surprised you remain unaffected by his lack of clothing but still thinks it’s not the appropriate way he should have welcomed you in.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you’d come home so early.” He explains as he puts down Hina. “Make yourself at home. ‘Be right back.”

You watch him disappear without a word, his niece follows him while gazing curiously at you. You bring your eyes back on the splendid view the penthouse overlooks.

When Taehyung comes back, closely followed, you’re still standing nearby the window. He’s intrigued and curious as to what made you so special in Seojun’s eyes.

///////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback very much appreciated  Reblog if you wish to read more

[votederpycausemufins]

Fixing Grum is harder than it looks, sorry guys. [:)]

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

Grumbot pulled itself out of [:)]’s arms. It made no sense to stay there anymore when there were things to do. It needed to find Ghostbur and learn what had caused the revival to go awry. It had coordinated for him, but that seemed to be rather far out. Theoretically a teleport could be used, but doing that on its own didn’t seem right. It was meant to do what the admin wanted. But the admin wasn’t here, so did that change things? No, it just needed to find [:)] since he assisted the admin. [:)]’s coordinates were much closer.

Grumbot pulled itself out of bed and then looked at the other occupied bed. Jrum. The robot was much too close and it was worrying Grum. For a moment, Grumbot considered dealing with the problem, but it didn’t matter. It was leaving to find [:)]. Jrum being there wouldn’t matter then. Besides, this was Jrum’s home and not its own. It was its own fault for being there. 

Grumbot looked at the exit. There were too many people that way, and based on previous actions, they would try to stop it. So instead, Grumbot turned to the window. It would be easy enough to break that and leave. Would it make a sound? Yes, but it could still get a head start. And it was much cleaner, its joints could work better so if needed, it could run.

Grumbot climbed up to the window and broke it before jumping out. From inside, it woke up Mumbo and caught the attention of a few people who alerted the others. Grumbot frowned and started to run before getting a better idea. It ran to hide behind a small hill and then started digging down, quickly covering up the hole above them. It stood there, looking up and listening. It seemed that it was being followed, because a few moments later, stomping feet from running passed by overhead. It seemed that Grumbot had the right idea when digging down.

After a few moments of silence, Grumbot climbed back out of the hole. No one was around anymore, so it could continue on its destination to [:)]. It walked back the other way, passing by what should have been an empty building. As far as Grumbot was concerned, it was. The only coordinates listed for that place were for Tommy, but obviously the revival was not fixed yet. There was also Jrum, but if he did follow, Grumbot would stop him. 

It continued to walk and checked the coordinates again. It unfortunately looked like Jrum was following. Grumbot rolled its eyes and sped up. Another check and he was still following, even starting to catch up. But also, he was a block above the ground for whatever reason. Though Grumbot knew turning would slow it down, it was still curious to see why that was the case.

Following behind Grumbot was Jrum, but only because they were currently being held by [:)]. Grumbot looked to see if there was anyone else in sight that hadn’t been noticed by the coordinates, but there was none. It supposed it could stop to see what [:)] wanted. And if he tried to take Grumbot back, it could simply get away since [:)] still had to focus on Jrum.

“You are following.”

“Oh thank goodness you’ve stopped.” The [:)] man panted. “And yes I am. Where were you going Grum? I thought you were going the other way.”

“Others that were likely planning to interfere followed and a new path must be taken now.”

“Path? Path to where?”

“To bzzt, as the admin is currently absent.”

“To what?”

“Bzzt.” Grumbot repeated.

“Can… you elaborate further?” [:)] asked, looking very confused.

“Of course. As bzzt had greater knowledge of various redstone mechanics and similar fields, the admin went to bzzt for help. The two of them often were together when certain things needed to be done, so with the admin gone, bzzt is the next best option.”

“Alright, so you’re going to see someone.”

“Was that not obvious? Bzzt definitely sounds like a name.”

[:)] shook his head. “Uh, no it does not. At the very least it doesn’t to me. I’m not even sure how to pronounce it even though I’ve just heard it.”

“Are two syllables that hard?”

“Two syl- Grum, every time you say the person’s name you’re just… making microwave noises or something.”

Grumbot paused. No, that couldn’t be right. It was definitely saying [:)]. But thinking back, the admin had also seemed confused at times. Had this been going on for a while? What else was affected? But that would be bad, so it couldn’t be happening. “You must be mistaken. There is no reason for a problem such as that.”

“Can you please come back? I can tell something is wrong and you still need repairs.”

“That can come after the revival has been fixed.”

“Then why aren’t you staying with Tommy. The problem is with him, right?” Mumbo asked. He had been asleep for the discussion about Ghostbur, but of course he was the one to find Xannes and Tommy in the first place.

“Bzzt cannot be helped until the problem is diagnosed. As Ghostbur is also having the same problem, answers may be with him. As the admin is gone, the next person to go to is bzzt.”

“To find answers about this Ghostbur person?”

“For instructions on it, yes. And bzzt will have those instructions.”

Mumbo sighed, he wasn’t really getting anywhere with this. “Grum, can you just come here?”

The robot hesitated for a moment, but it supposed that since [:)] was still a distance away, [:)] might work instead. It walked over and stood next to him, though it was wary about the fact that Jrum was in his arms.

Mumbo shifted Jrum into just one arm so he could put the other around Grumbot. “Thank you. Can you tell me how you’re doing?”

Grumbot looked up at [:)], screen starting to flicker between faces again. “H-have to f-fix th-things. C-can’t c-close programs. T-too many…”

“Can I see them?”

“L-look f-fast. C-console d-doesn’t like it…” Grumbot got out before a list of programs filled its screen.

Mumbo carefully set Jrum down to look through it all. There were a number of main programs open that all had their own sub categories of different programs. The one using the most memory was the console section. Opening it up, Mumbo saw just how much Grumbot was being used for. Player death counts, statistics, coordinates, time dilation, there was even a blacklist program, though that was currently disabled. Mumbo was pretty sure that was why they were able to get in now. 

Now the time dilation program, that was likely why it had been a month or so here while it was only a few days for him and the others. “Grum, is it possible to disable the time dilation?”

“Yes. Currently displacement is at 884%. It can be lowered or turned off entirely.”

“I’d much rather we turn it off entirely.”

Mumbo watched as the program changed to list it as disabled. “Displacement removed.”

Almost immediately, Mumbo could feel his communicator buzz. He pulled it out to see it listed NPG as having joined the world. A moment later, a message came in from him.

<NPG> Hi, no clue if this works here, but I am trying anyway!

<NPG> No one even really knows I’m here.

<EvilXisuma> it works

<FoolishG> Whomst

<NPG> But something happened to Tommy and now I’m here for help.

<NPG> Oh yay! Hi Xannes! And other person!

<NPG> What do you mean?

<NPG> You mean Tommy?

<EvilXisuma> Who are you talking to?

<NPG> I’m getting messages from someone called Console, though it looks different than a normal person.

<MumboJumbo> I’m guessing that’s from Grum.

<NPG> Oh! You found him?

<MumboJumbo> Yes. both of the boys are with me right now.

<Grian> Oh thank goodness

<Grian> So he came back?

<MumboJumbo> He went the other way and I chased after him. He was trying to find someone, but he had an issue saying their name

<NPG> Then yeah, probably Grum since they were trying to ask about Tommy but the name came out weird

<MumboJumbo> I’ll see if I can get him back to bed.

Mumbo put his communicator away and looked back to Grumbot. Its monitor no longer showed the list of programs and the face shown was no longer shifting. He carefully nudged Jrum. “Jrum, any chance you can wake up?”

The bot shifted. “Nooo. Don’t wanna.”

“Jrum, I need to carry your brother but I can’t carry both of you at once.”

“Why can’t he just walk?”

“He’s got a lot of programs running and I’m worried about his battery. Plus, he tried running off before, so I don’t want that happening again.”

At this, Grumbot spoke up. “It will not if bzzt can be brought as well. And if battery is a problem, a storm can be summoned for use of a trident.”

“Tri- Grum, is that what those holes in your body are from?!” Mumo’s eyes widened, his shout waking Jrum up all the way.

“Correct. The admin believes it is good for emergencies.”

“No. We are going back. Now.” Mumbo spoke in a serious tone, his face very pale. Jrum still felt tired, but could tell that it wasn’t the time for complaining and stood up to follow his daddy. Mumbo walked as fast as he could. He would run if he wasn’t worried about dropping Grumbot, not to mention his arms were getting a bit tired of carrying so much weight for so long already.

“Th-there’s s-something wr-wrong with m-me.” Grumbot spoke around when Mumbo could see the quartz mansion again.

“”I know Grum. We’re going to find a way to fix you.”

“N-no. N-not that… T-the a-admin. Dream. H-He’s… it h-hurts…”

“Don’t worry Grum. It’s going to be okay.”

Grian got ahead of everyone by flying back to the quartz mansion. He shouldn’t have even left there in the first place. But he had been running after Grum, hadn’t he. If Grumbot hadn’t gone a different way or tricked them, he would have been near his kid. Instead both of the bots were with Mumbo and he was chunks away.

He was pretty sure he was nearing the mansion again and started to slowly descend, but it quickly turned into a drop as a splitting headache came out of nowhere. Grian cursed and looked around with tears blurring his vision, aiming for the nearest body of water and hoping he hit it. And fortunately he did.

For a moment the headache cleared, but then it was back again and Grian gritted his teeth. “Alright, what do you want?”

‘Ah!’

“Why are you surprised? You’re the one trying to get my attention.”

‘I was? I mean, I guess I was.’

Grian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh you’re new, aren’t you. Who let you be a Watcher? You sound pretty young.”

‘I don’t know. I guess I’ve just always been one. Perhaps I was just born one?’

“People aren’t just born as watchers.” Grian replied, though he actually wasn’t completely sure about that. “Well, what’s your name?”

‘Eyes. And you’re Grian?’

That made Grian pause. “Yes, how do you know that?”

‘I- We need some help. It’s about Console.’

“You mean Grum? We’re trying to help him already. He’s my son.”

‘Yes, I’m trying to help him too. But the admin is gone so we need a new one or a new console to replace Console.’

“Don’t call Grum that.”

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

“You’re calling Grum ‘Console’ instead of using his name.” Grian half growled.

‘No. Grum is Grum. But Console is Console. They have been separated into different programs. Of course doing anything with Console right now is dangerous but-’

Grian forced away the Watcher communication, shaking the water out of his feathers as they shifted back to their normal colors. They quickly changed back as he quickly made a new portal and went in it, shooting a message to everyone first.

“Well look who it is. Didn’t expect to see you around.”

“Why do I always run into you first Lynn?” Grian complained about the other Watcher.

“Who knows? Maybe it’s your own fault and you just always make your way in near me.”

Grian sighed. “Look, I’m not really in the mood for this right now. Going through a bit of a crisis and I need some things.”

“Alright fine, what is it?”

“I’d rather talk to Noah, Pin or Goof. They’ve got a better chance of having what I need.”

Lynn crossed their arms. “Really, and you think I can’t help you Xel?”

“No, I don’t, because you still won’t call me Grian.” The avian glared before starting to walk off.

“Can I at least know? If I can’t help, no skin off your back. If I can, it gets the job done quicker.”

Grian groaned, but did relent and answered Lynn. “Alright fine. I’m hoping that the console from when Evo was starting is still around. We’ve got a world which was using one and a missing admin, but what they were using for a console needs to be… turned off.”

“So? Admin can leave their world even without a console and it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but the admin got taken to hels.”

Lynn’s eyes widened a bit. “Okay yeah that would change things. Definitely puts the world in danger.”

“Which is why I’m after the console. Other thing I need is information on a new Watcher.”

“New Watcher?” Lynn asked, interest piqued. “How new?”

“New as in they had no clue what they were doing when they opened up communications and I responded.”

“Okay that’s something I can look into. What’s their name?”

“They said their name was Eyes.”

“Hmm, fitting.” Lynn said with a slight impressed nod. “Well, I’ll look into that. Pin’s in the library last I checked.”

“Good to know.” Grian answered, walking off to find Pin.

“Hello!” Tommy woke up with a start, Grian suddenly standing over him and having shouted. Tommy cursed and fell out of his bed, getting tangled in his sheets. He was about to curse out his brother when he realized it wasn’t really Grian.

“Oh, NPG. Why the fuck did you wake me up like that?”

“I thought it was important to wake you and I wasn’t sure if touching you would work.” NPG explained, before slowly poking Tommy’s shoulder. “Oh! It would have. My bad.”

Tommy groaned, wanting to go back to sleep. “Okay, so why did you need me awake?”

“I had some news for you! You see, I saw the messages from you earlier about being stuck and heard no one could figure it out, so I went to the place you and the others went to to tell them since you had been over there. Someone told me some coordinates and I got there and Xannes was there as well as you.”

“As well as what?!” Tommy shouted, waking some of the other hermits who were still there from the sleepover, especially since the sun hadn’t risen yet.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t fully you. Just your body I guess. It’s there and it’s breathing and stuff, but it’s like it’s stuck sleeping, meanwhile you’re here. And someone named Ghostbur is having the same problem.”

“He is?!”

“Oh, you know him?” NPG asked, to which Tommy nodded. “Well apparently he’s stuck in someone’s house because he was there looking for them, then suddenly he’s alive and can’t leave the place.”

“Have they figured out how to fix it yet?” Tommy asked, though he didn’t have much hope.

“No… not yet. They’re still helping Grum and Jrum.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Tommy sighed. The various hermits that had woken up started asking questions, but Tommy didn’t really want to answer them, so he let NPG take the lead as he got back into bed. It at the very least explained why he looked the way he did. He was essentially dead. 

He moved his hand to the wound in his gut. It doesn’t physically hurt, but thinking about it does. He knows he’s like Ghostbur and is forgetting the bad things, but his death is… happy. He’s looking down at Grum who’s about to kill him, but before it happened, Tommy got through to Grum and made Dream upset. He knew he was probably going to lose his last life there and yet he wasn’t scared.

In that moment, Tommy didn’t care. Sure, maybe part of him was used to respawning from Hermitcraft, or maybe he thought Grum wouldn’t actually kill him. But he had gotten killed, and it was to help his family. Normally that ended with getting betrayed. He supposed it technically did this time too, but that wasn’t Grum’s fault, it was Dream’s. 

It felt weird. He wasn’t dead, not really. He wasn’t a ghost like Ghostbur since he wasn’t see through and could actually touch things. He also wasn’t a zombie like Cleo because he definitely had a pulse. He guessed he was just something new, and that was a bit frightening since it meant none of them had any clue on how to help, but at the very least, he wasn’t alone.

Mumbo jumped up from his seat on Grum’s bed when Grian came in. The message he had gotten from the Watcher had really only made him more nervous, wondering why there was any emergency business for him. The redstoner was surprised to see a large rectangular black box in Grian’s arms, but guessed that it was related to the emergency. “Grian, is everything alright?”

Grian put the box on the ground. “Not everything, but it’s better. I got us a new console.”

Mumbo’s eyes widened and he looked over at the box. “Really? How did you find one?”

“It was left over from Evo. We only really needed it for the first few months, so once we were at a point where newer technology could be used, it was switched out. Pretty much no Watcher throws stuff away like this, so it was still hanging around mainly gathering dust.”

“Well hopefully this will work.” Mumbo looked the machine over. “I haven’t used one in ages, so it may take some trial and error.”

“If you need help, we could probably get Sam or Fundy.” Bad suggested. “Sam is good with redstone if that’s what you need. And I know Fundy has been around Grum a lot, so he might know something.”

Mumbo looked up at that. “Right! Fundy said he was being asked to ‘help’ with Grum. I’m guessing that’s who Grum was after.”

“Right, you did mention he was looking for someone. Do we have any idea where Fundy is?”

“Well…” Bad rubbed the back of his head. “Jrum sort of got him pulled into all the egg stuff, so he might be at his place, or he might be stuck with Sam. I only really got away since it’s sort of hard to stop someone of my size, especially with a child involved.”

“Yeah, parenthood does that.” Grian agreed. “So where would each of those places b-” Grian’s comm buzzed and he frowned angrily. Sure enough, coordinates from Eyes. “I guess that answers that.”

“More coordinates?” Mumbo asked, not looking up from the old console, busy trying to figure it out. 

“Yes.” Grian spoke, his voice filled with venom.

“Woah, what’s with you?”

Grian shoved his comm back into his pocket. “Whoever this Eyes person is, they’ve got Watcher powers and magic. They did something only other Watchers should be able to do. When I went to get the console, I also tried to figure out who they were, and there was absolutely nothing. There’s no reason there should be nothing, and yet there was. That means whoever this is isn’t a Watcher, but has the magic of one, which is bad news.”

“Like we need anything more going on.” Bad sighed, earning noises of agreement. 

“I guess I’ll head over there since I’m fastest anyhow.” Grian sighed. “I guess see you in a bit.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Mumbo warned. He knew Grian likely wouldn’t, but it was more something to try and give things a lighter tone. And based on Grian’s response, it seemed to work.

“You know I’ll never make promises about that.” He gave a small smirk, then left, flying off.

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapters 267 & 268.  Filling in the gaps and learning how Tsurumi was involved in the gold.

After a few chapters that I was expecting to be more rewarding falling flat, things are starting to pick up.  We first learn about Kiro’s involvement and how his relationship with Wilk became strained.  Before they broke Sofia out of prison, Kiro decided to tell Sofia more details before actually reuniting with her.  It is unclear if this story was relayed to Sofia via the milk ink or if Kiro wrote this with regular ink meaning anyone could have read the information.  What this page does tell us, is that Sofia learned this information prior to meeting Asirpa and Ogata likely knows something about what was written.  Noda wouldn’t just throw him in the background for no reason.

I wonder if this information was already shared between Kiro and Ogata? 

The chapter title page has an image of Wilk, Riratte and Asirpa as a family.  Clearly, a visual parallel with Tsurumi, Olga and Fina indicating that the two men have fates that are intertwined.

When Kiro saw Wilk holding Asirpa, he knew that something was different; he loved her and his family and as a result his priorities would change.  Kiro is not happy with this while Huci smiles next to him.

This is an interesting story since Tsurumi is retelling what Kiro wrote to Sofia, clearly in Russian.  Tsurumi is dominant and in charge of things as he makes Sofia when he mentions the man Kimuspu.  The last remaining person who knew where the gold was hidden.  At the same time, somehow Tsurumi learned of this information.

The panel informs us at certain key members of his elite inner circle knew about this, Kikuta in the back, potentially even working for Central at that point in time, Usami close to Tsurumi and Ogata and Tsukishima in the front with Ogata also more distant from Tsurumi.

This confirms what Ogata told us all the way back after the Barato arc with Hijikata.  That he referred to how Tsurumi knew what happened to the seven Ainu men without indicating if he was there or not.  I loved how Ogata just said that Tsurumi was the intelligence officer who examined the crime scene.  Time and time again Ogata speaks but only gives enough information to catch someone’s attention.

The flashback told my Tsurumi who wasn’t there at the time is in part based on what he knows from Kiro as well which is something to keep in mind.  The men convened at Noboribetsu, clearly in a kotan close to where Ariko is from.

The group of men were meeting to discuss it and Wilk is leading the discussion.  Not surprising at all since he is a natural leader.  His back is to us in the middle panel as they talk.

The rest of the men are revealed.  The first man who speaks is clearly Ariko’s father, Siromakur based on those eyebrows. The cast of the soon to be doomed men are revealed with a wide range of beards and eyebrows.  I’d guess it took a lot of effort to find seven Ainu names and this might be why this plot point is so late, as it is known that Noda avoided names currently in use to be culturally respectful.   I will note that Mesira, Irenka and Ratci all have no light or sparkle in their eyes, making them look like they may have had more bad experiences. Sukuta looks like a nice guy.

Maybe it is just me but Oskeporo gives me major Kirawus vibes?  I want to see your eyebrows Kirawus!  Are you related to Oskeporo?  They are both wearing dark clothing, my brain wants to say Oskeporo has a blue attush with white trim.

It looks sort of similar to Kirawus’s - or maybe he’s also from the Kushiro region? In the next chapter we learn that Oskeporo is from Nemuro.  That is pretty close to Kushiro since Kirawus was working in Nemuro at the fisheries when he met Hijikata.

Anyways back to the main events.  The men realize they need to find the old man, Kimuspu quickly so no one beats them to him, since of course people told other people about it. . .

As they head out Kiro finds Wilk and he’s pissed off.  The text bubble tells us he’s beyond upset and he’s got a clenched fist.  Finally, we are getting some clarity on why things broke down between Kiro and Wilk.

Even though Kiro had integrated himself into the local Hokkaido community, his best friend left him out of things.  Of course, Kiro was always dedicated to their original greater cause as he’s Tatar/Karafuto Ainu and perhaps knows that Sofia is in prison in Karafuto?

Wilk tells the other men to go ahead and so that he can talk to Kiro one on one.  Kiro is hurt and angry being excluded from these plans.  It indicates that knowledge of their meeting was more well known than Wilk likely would have preferred.  Ainu told each other about the gold, the old man, and the leaders meeting to discuss it since Kiro found him easily.  Or did Ogata tip him off?  Was this the beginning of the cat alliance?

Wilk tells him that they should change focus to only protecting Hokkaido based on logistics.  This ignores the places where they grew up and therefore the other ethnic groups.

Tsurumi then asks Asirpa if she understands the difference between a regional ethnic nation that shares land borders with Russia and other countries making them difficult to defend.  Which is the exact same reason Tsurumi wants to make Hokkaido an independent state and why Hijikata also likes it.  From a strategic perspective it does make a lot of sense, but it excludes most of the minority groups they were fighting for all these years.

This exchange between Kiro and Wilk explains so much of why Kiro said Wilk changed.  He sees it as a betrayal and abandonment of the Russian far east and Karafuto.  Wilk calmly states they will encourage immigration of different groups.

This is clearly upsetting to Kiro as his skin is covered with the chaotic screentone.  This is always used when a character is upset and reeling from learning something that they don’t want to hear.  I love the fact that a very similar screentone is used in Ogata’s flashback in 165 talking to Yuusaku.  Ogata appears calm but there is emotion behind his ice cold responses.

Interestingly, the screentone with the curved lines is only used with Ogata specifically, and it doesn’t show up again, but both show an inner turmoil.

Kiro argues that because Wilk’s village immigrated to Hokkaido, that is why they failed in part due to going to a place they were unfamiliar with and different ways to survive.

Wilk replies that he understood by the Karafuto Ainu immigration failed and just says ‘we need to avoid repeating those mistakes’.  Really?  Why do you tell us what they are Wilk?  Does he really have an answer for that or is he just saying this hoping Kiro will calm down?

Kiro is quickly able to point out flaws for some of the ethnic groups and Wilk has a cop out of an answer, it will be up to individuals to make that choice.  Kiro may be upset, but I think he is correct by telling Wilk his priorities have changed with the birth of Asirpa.  These men have known each other for most of their lives and acted in an organization where they had to trust each other deeply.

I do like the switch to see Asirpa’s reaction, she loved her father but she definitely saw Kiro as an uncle figure and did no know about their falling out at all to change her opinion of them when all of this started.

Wilk artfully dodges Kiro’s question by saying he’s being realistic.  I don’t think Wilk wants to confirm what Kiro said in stoic Slav fashion.  If anyone has been following my meta for some time, you’d know I’m a huge fan of Kiro, so I like the next page. Knowing Wilk, he calls him out on it - he found a place to call home, he loves his family and his priorities have shifted to protect his current home.  But Kiro is still holding a torch for Sofia, and wants to break her out of prison and help his own people.  The fact Wilk doesn’t even respond tells us Kiro is right.

Asirpa quietly reflects on this.  It clearly explains so much about what happened and in a way Kiro showed her Wilk’s original plan with the intention to help the partisans.  Tsurumi summarizes the legitimacy of these contrasting goals.  His position in the chair reserved for the priest as well as his contemplative expression makes me think that Tsurumi is confessing to his own feelings that are divided within himself. 

The page ends with Tsukishima watching things blankly, a frown and stress lines under the eyes - how is he feeling in this very moment?

The flashback continues as Kiro loses it mentioning that Sofia is still waiting for them.  This must mean that Kiro has continued to keep tabs on her or maintain some knowledge/limited communication with her.  He charges towards Wilk and the two fight, but Wilk manages to get him in a headlock victorious.

Asirpa then is able to tell Sofia that she knew that Kiro had feelings for her, so of course he’d want to go back for her.  Of course she didn’t learn this until Kiro died but it does make a lot of sense. Sofia listens closely, but it is still unclear how well she understands Asirpa speaking Japanese.

The fight ends with Kiro on the ground and he lost his shoes in the fight somehow.  It is unclear if this is a drawing error by Noda since Kiro is frequently shown bare feet, partly to signal his death in Karafuto, but other times he seems to like having free toes. 

Asirpa’s explanation is that Wilk knew the Kiro loved Sofia and he avoided Kiro.  It a way it would be a dick move to have a family that he loved, while Kiro can’t do anything about the woman he loved who was their comrade in arms. 

Sofia looks so sad here, two men she loved and cared about are dead in this entire mess.  The chapter ends with a beat up Wilk tying Kiro to a tree and we see him now barefoot.  Did Wilk take his shoes off to prevent him from chasing after them?  I don’t know or if Noda accidentally gave Kiro shoes a few pages prior.

But now we finally know the event that lead Kiro to tell Inkarmat that Wilk changed.  And we as the readers know he changed.  Kiro is pissed off at Wilk and this was the rift that separated the men and their goals for the gold.

Kiro realized that he and Wilk now had different goals and it was what ended their friendship.  The next chapter starts with a somber and sad looking Kiro writing the letter.  Which now we can see is an ink letter.  He reflects on how that was the last conversation he had with Wilk, which likely wasn’t how he had wanted it to go.

Wilk tells him this is for Asirpa’s benefit and her happiness.  Apparently, he decided to gift Asirpa with this path based on the fact that he felt Sofia was a good leader/role model.  I mean besides the fact that Sofia gave up her chance to live a normal domestic life.  It is clear Wilk was impressed with Sofia and her character but it still shows that Wilk is putting her in a situation she didn’t ask for.  

Yet, Asirpa isn’t upset by this.  She echoes Wilk’s way of thinking which is just like Koito Sr.  So in a way she has more in common with Koito and his role to do things his father expects from him.  Though Koito’s older brother already died in the service so it isn’t like she has a younger sibling.

Tsurumi seems to suggest that Wilk could have just slid into obscurity and live his life in peace and quiet.  Does this mean that Tsurumi wanted to live in peace and quiet with Fina and Olga?

Asirpa boldly tells him that it isn’t possible as the Ainu would disappear.  As the Ainu are intrinsically linked to the kamuy.  The Ainu must respect the kamuy and in return if they forget them they will disappear. 

In reality this was the assimilation of the Ainu into Japanese society, losing their links to the kamuy and their cultural identity.

Tsurumi finally responds that the fate of those wanting to protect the kamuy was not good.  He looks like he’s barely able to control himself as he’s got his deranged look on his face.  So scary that Sofia and Asirpa are shocked.

The flashback then continues from Tsurumi’s point of view.  Though we need to realize he may not be telling the truth.  The fact that Tsurumi was able to track down Ariko Sr. implies that the secret wasn’t super secret!  Good job of keeping things under wraps Wilk and other Ainu dudes.  Tsurumi starts off with flattery to get comfortable with Simorakur.

For example he clearly comments about his son being in the army and making sure he is sent the knife to remember his identity.  Interesting the other men with Tsurumi are Usami and Kikuta.  Tsukishima and Ogata are no where to be seen. 

Tsurumi is told he is too late, the other men went in search of the older man and therefore the gold over a month ago.  Of course Ariko’s dad decided to leave the group because of the disagreements that began to occur as some of the men threatened the families of others including Cikapasi’s grandfather.  Not sure why bringing Cikapasi into this part of the narrative makes sense since he was fine in the story as an orphan who found his family in Karafuto. . . .  I wonder if this was supposed to read that the man was Sukuta and he had a younger brother and grandfather.  With Cikapasi being the younger brother . . .

Tsurumi turns on his charm and calls Simorakur, a polite Mr. Ariko (obviously Ariko-san in the original) and ties the loyalty of his family to the Japanese to be important.  That his family is serving the government in a good way.

The tells Tsurumi that the six men all had pretty big egos, and drastically different viewpoints so they were not a good alliance.  But that one man was able to draw them together and resolve conflicts easily and he was a natural leader.  That man of course, was Wilk.  The flashback allows Tsurumi to learn about this natural leader who is also knowledgeable and even used a fact that Tsurumi told him when talking to the men.

The next page shows Wilk as a mystery to Tsurumi at first.  Of course, he’s got the cross scar on his face marked likely to link him with Christian symbols and he’s offering his hand to the viewer, not unlike how Asirpa first offered her hand to Sugimoto.

Tsurumi is impressed and wants to know more about this man.  Of course the big reveal is when he learns who the Karafuto Ainu man is.  His eyes go white in shock and likely out if his desire to kill him.  We also get an even better view of his torn sleeves.  Likely the kidnapping of Koito happened recently and he did a poor job of repairing his white uniform.

So, Koito was kidnapped in Hakodate, recently but Usami wasn’t involved in it.  Did Usami just join him?  As Koito’s flashback only reveals Kikuta, Tsukishima and Ogata.  Not surprisingly, his calm exterior is shaded with the hatched screentone again, just like Kiro in the last chapter.

Tsurumi then tells Asirpa and Sofia that he shot a single poison arrow at Wilk, his eyes completely white.  He tells Simorakur that Wilk was a partisan fighting against the Russians and had come to Hokkaido for the gold for the partisans.

And he quickly departs and watches as he lead Tsurumi, Kikuta and Usami to the gold.  They hear gunfire and are unable to keep up with everyone else.  In the morning they find one of the men stabbed with a makkiri.  So Tsurumi knows that Wilk didn’t kill any of the men.

If we go back to chapter 70 Ogata tells Hijikata what he knows as Hijikata implies he knows that Kiro is likely a partisan.  Now it is hard to tell if the knife in chapter 268 matches one in 70.  But Ogata makes it clear that all of the knives had notches on them.

Does this mean that Wilk actually did damage everything?  Or did Tsurumi make this up to frame Wilk for the deaths so that Wilk appeared guilty?  Or did Wilk actually do this out of cultural obligation?  I want more information since right now Tsukishima and Ogata aren’t involved. 

Did Ogata find Kiro and untie him from the tree?  Did the cat alliance form while he was out of the range of Tsurumi?

The chapter then ends with Tsurumi telling them that Wilk skinned himself, removing his face and putting it on another dead person’s severed head.

Yay!  This now at least lines up with Asirpa’s statement that they found her Aca’s nose and ears to identify he was one of the dead. 

A long time ago I had reasoned that Wilk disfigured himself by cutting off his nose and ears, but this is a much more gruesome way to fake his death.  Did he know someone like Tsurumi was onto him?  My biologist brain really wonders how he was able to do this with out a sterile environment and way to protect the healing skin and face and protect the muscles and argh it just seems far fetched to me from a biological perspective.  I figured the nose and ear part would make more sense since GK has had ear removal and off page nose removal.

But hey this is GK!  People seem to have great healing abilities!  So might as well extend this to Wilk’s entire face.

What these two chapters have show is that Tsurumi has let his own emotions control his place in the hunt for the gold.

I wonder when Kikuta started working for central and if he told Ariko what really happened to his father.  Or did he always keep this secret from him and instead betray him, which is in part why he felt so guilty when Usami beat the crap out of him before sending him off to be a double agent?

Kikuta does have more of a moral compass that Usami and we now know he has some sort of inspirational role he played with Sugimoto before he joined the military.

I am still underwhelmed by these developments.  I was hoping for something bigger but right now Tsurumi looks like a man who was already angry at the Japanese government for the death of his family in Russia, who then doubles down on it when he learns the man leading the Ainu was Wilk so he goes after him.

At least we know why Kiro was so upset with Wilk and why he felt like Ogata had to kill him so that they could take Asirpa to Karafuto and to meet Sofia.

[mourntheantagonist]

Pain Reliever

read on ao3

Billy didn’t get headaches.

It wasn’t a minor dull pain that encompassed his skull. It wasn’t something that could easily be cured with a Tylenol or whatever off brand alternative was in their medicine cabinet. It wasn’t something that came sporadically. Every once and a while having an ache brought on by a various stressor.

No. Billy got migraines.

Migraines that compared to a stabbing pain localized on one area around his head. Behind the eye. Back of the head. His temple. All the pain of a headache centralized and focused and absolute hell. A pain so strong that he couldn’t open his eyes, any light at all being too bright against his blue eyes. Loud sounds ringing and bouncing off his skull making it worse and worse. Strong smells invading his sinuses and traveling into his brain creating a fiery burn. And nothing helped. No medication easing the pain. No dietary restrictions or vitamin supplements or even fucking meditation doing anything at all.

The pain could last for days. Even though sleep had seemed to be the only remedy, sometimes even that didn’t work. Sometimes he’d wake up in the morning and the morning sun would set fire to his eyes.

Oftentimes the pain would get so severe he would vomit up the entire contents of his stomach, until he was spitting up bile and dry heaving into the toilet bowl.

He’s had them since he was a kid. His father did too. Yet another undesirable trait he inherited from his father. But back then they weren’t so severe. He could generally push himself through the pain. The vomiting only ever happened on rare occasions. And sleep always got them to go away. He never woke up with a headache.

But then Starcourt had to happen. And he was in a coma for two months. And when he woke up underneath the fluorescent light bouncing off the white walls of his hospital room, his head pounded against his skull, like it was trying to escape from his body. He could hear his heartbeat echo in his head. His vision blurred and the incessant beeping of his heart monitor sending him into a craze. He slammed his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could and his whole body tensed.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

The pain was so bad that he didn’t even recognize the gaping hole in his chest that was still healing over. Broken ribs that once punctured lungs no longer being the thing preventing him from breathing easy. The disorienting pulsating and the overwhelming nausea now being the vice.

And when he succumbed to the nausea, when he let his stomach churn and his throat open up, there was nothing that came out. just a pathetic glob of yellow bile and air. The heaving sensation finally caused him to recognize the pain in his chest where he had been skewered.

Billy wasn’t supposed to survive. When people asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, or what his plans were after high school. He’d tell you he didn’t know. Because he could never envision a life for himself past the age of eighteen. Couldn’t picture a life where it wasn’t his father who was standing over him as he took his final breaths. He definitely couldn’t picture a life where instead of his dad, it was a massive fleshy monster. And he most certainly would not have expected him to fucking survive it.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to die tragically. With everyone around him wondering what they could have done to prevent it, but never actually caring that he died. Only giving a shit about what it did to their conscience.

It was surprising that he was still alive. That whatever greater power there was out there had decided that it wasn’t time. It went against everything he believed for himself. It was a shock. But nothing could have prepared him for the shock of a lifetime that was Steve Harrington sitting at his bedside holding his fucking hand as he heaved into a plastic container.

Not a single thing made sense when he woke up. When he closed his eyes on the floor of that mall, he thought he’d died the villain he was destined to be. He never expected to wake up a hero in the eyes of everyone. Especially Steve Harrington. The guy he hurt without remorse. The guy who saw right through everything he did. Billy wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy. That should be so obvious. Yet here he was, in a room surrounded by bouquets from strangers with cards reading get well soon and Steve fucking Harrington fighting back tears because Billy was awake.

Apparently Steve had been there every day. Max made him promise to take care of him, which he very reluctantly agreed to. He was doing it for Max. At least that was the original intention.

Steve started to find his own sense of purpose by seeing Billy every day. Watching as his body slowly healed itself. Steve’s life had hit such a roadblock. Working a dead end job with no outlook on his future. Seeing Billy get better gave him something to look forward to. There was a light at the end of this tunnel. And he wasn’t going to miss it.

Steve wasn’t prepared for what he was getting himself into. Wasn’t prepared to understand the full extent of Billy’s injuries and how previous injuries caused complications. He wasn’t prepared to learn who had inflicted those injuries. He wasn’t prepared to see cigarette burns constellating his upper thighs. He wasn’t prepared to wonder whether they were self inflicted or not.

Over the weeks he just kept learning and learning and sympathizing. So quickly he realized he needed to be there when Billy woke up. Needed to be there to hold his hand when his two month long dream finally came to an end. Needed to bring him back to reality when flashes of the mind flayer and his father flicked in his head.

And nothing made sense after that. Somehow high school rivals turned into friends and then turned into more. Somehow Billy found himself waking up next to Steve in his queen sized bed and not in his double on Cherry lane.

Well, actually. One thing made perfect sense to Billy.

Because when he went to bed with a migraine, he woke up with one as well. Sleep no longer serving as a reset button. Each morning waking up to the disappointment that the pounding in his head remained. That the light was too bright. That Steve breathed too loud. That Steve’s cologne smelled too strong. It made sense. It made sense because this was why he got to live. This was his punishment. Because Billy didn’t get nice things without some cost.

And it sometimes made Billy resent Steve. Resent him for carrying him out of the mall, rather than leaving him to die. Resent him for making Billy fall in love with him. Resent him for giving him something to lose.

But then Steve would be there, holding his hair as he threw up in the bathroom. He’d be there with a cool washcloth to lay on his forehead. He’d be there to hold him tight to distract him enough from the pain so he’d fall asleep.

But with time they only became more frequent. So much as say the word migraine within a fifty foot radius and it was on.

And when Billy had a migraine. They didn’t have sex.

Steve felt like he’d be using Billy. Because he wouldn’t be into it. The pain so strong that all pleasure washed away. And Steve couldn’t continue with Billy in that state. Letting himself hurt so Steve could feel good.

But it’s been a full week now and it was only getting worse.

And dammit Billy needed to release some of that tension.

So there the two are in a pitch black room. Billy lying on his back with the cloth over his eyes. The only sound is Billy’s patterned breathing. Steve’s hand on his chest as it rises and falls. Trailing down to feel Billy hard in his jeans, whimpering at the touch of Steve’s hand over two layers of fabric.

“I have an idea.” Steve whispers. “Just lay there and relax. I just want to try something.” Steve kisses his forehead gently, like he’s kissing a wound better. If only it could have been that simple.

Steve slowly unbuttons his jeans, struggling slightly due to the lack of an ability to see. This would definitely be more hands on than usual. He maps Billy’s body with his hands, up and down, tracing his fingers along every divet, every curve of muscle. Creating a vivid visual in his mind as he eases Billy jeans and briefs to his knees.

Steve lets his fingers trace around his groin, releasing another whimper out of Billy, and Steve can’t tell if it’s from the pain of his headache or his desperate need to be touched.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Steve whispers just loud enough for Billy to hear. His face mere inches away from Billy’s cock. Close enough that Billy can feel Steve’s breath hot against his dick.

“Please. Don’t stop.” The pain and desperation clear in his voice.

So Steve goes down, taking the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue and relishing the taste of pre. Steve can’t see as Billy hands move from his head to the sheets, gripping and pulling at them as his breathing quickens from just the warm touch of Steve’s tongue. His head still throbbing in his ears, a weird feeling deep in stomach that he’s unsure if it’s nausea or not. The warm mouth around his cock serving as a pleasant distraction, but not a perfect one.

He wishes he could see Steve. But it’s dark underneath the cloth and he’s not sure he’d even be able to open his eyes anyway. So he listens intently to Steve’s gasps for air, imprints every sensation he’s feeling that Steve is providing to memory. His toes curl. His fists get tighter. Bites down hard on his lower lip as he groans. A groan that is definitely a cause of pleasure and not pain.

Steve takes Billy in deeper. Slowly bobbing up and down to match the rhythm of Billy’s breathing. Treating his own arousal with the sounds of Billy’s quiet whimpers. Rocking his hips against a pillow as he tries to focus all his attention on making Billy feel good. Making him release the strain.

“Close.” Billy says. It’s barely there and Steve surely wouldn’t have heard it had the room not been so quiet and void of any noise but the sounds of breathing and slow and steady movements on the bed.

Billy’s hips buck upward just before releasing his load directly down Steve’s throat. His orgasm accompanied with a loud moan and a release of a deep breath.

Steve continues to rock his hips against the pillow until he’s finishing into his pants at just the noises coming out of Billy. Noises that are unmistakably from pleasure.

Once he’s come down and reached his senses, Steve climbs his way up the bed until he finds Billy’s face, gently cupping the side of his cheek before planting a kiss to his lips.

“How do you feel?”

The answer. Good. Billy feels good.

The migraine is gone.

As if whatever was infecting his brain was released by the spurt of come shot into Steve’s mouth. Pleasure sensors in his brain activating all at once to override it.

“It’s gone.” Is all he can say. Stunned with the quick turn around. A full week of pain and all it took was Steve’s mouth and it was gone. It felt like he was freed from prison. He takes in the scent of Steve’s cologne with a deep intake of air. The fragrance mixing with Steve’s sweat and sex smell feeling so good in his nose. No burning. Just bliss.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. It’s definitely gone.”

Looks like there was a cure after all.

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

Land On Your Feet ——————————————-

Before Journal was “Journal,” he was Theodore: a mischievous kid with a handful of charm and a whole lotta stubbornness. On a normal trip to town, he sees something strange that would change his life. For better or worse, the kid has yet to find out...  

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————-

ultimately I had planned for there to be a lot more going on here, but the chapter got way too long and i need validation to live. i’ll get on my other plans as i can, but there’s this for now! enjoy!

“Are we there yet?” “No, not yet.” “Are we there yet?!” “No, not yet.” “Are we THERE YET?!” “No, not y-” “Would you guys quit it back there?! I can’t focus on driving!” “Just ignore them, we’re almost there, anyway…” Such was the standard soundtrack on trips like these. The wagon bumped along the well worn dirt road, the horses kicking up dust as they went. The front row of the wagon was full to capacity- four people across, full of two parents and two elder children, with no space to spare for the four younger kids in the back. Just a farming family on their way to marketplace, laden down with kids and corn. Another standard around here. Three of the kids tumbled around among the market-boud corn, fooling around in the way bored children do. The last sat with his legs dangling over the back of the cart. The farmer boy kicked his feet idly, green eyed gaze sliding over the brush and wide fields along the road. A shock of messy brown curls rustled in the breeze. He reached up to smooth it down. It needed to stay in the cool swooshing style he’d seen on the cover of his older brother’s novels. His plaid tunic hung loosely off his lanky frame, his leggings more like a pair of pillowcases. Hand me downs. Nothing he wasn’t used to. He’d stuffed the ends of his leggings into his boots. Snatched a belt from his father’s closet to cinch the tunic around his waist. A patchwork look, sure, but he was working on it. Heroes can start off a little rough, his books told him. They soak in every little trip until they stumble into adventure. He believed it wholeheartedly. Though he did wish there was more action on their town trips. Heaving a sigh, he pulled his legs under him. Now crouching on the back of the cart, he considered his next move. He could hear whispers of “do a flip- backflip-! Do it do it-” behind him. He tensed his legs, holding tight to the back of the cart. Coiled to flip backwards, he cast a mischievous glance back at his siblings- And caught his mother’s eyes. “Theodore, don’t y’all dare!” her sharp voice flew back. “How many times’ve ah told ya ta stop doin’ that? Yer gonna get hurt ‘n knock corn outta the cart!” “Sorry ma,” Theodore said sheepishly, “cain’t help myself…” He let himself flop backwards instead. His siblings giggled and squawked as he did so, tossing corn at him. Grumbling from the front of the cart said his mother wasn’t amused. But it was fine, when was she? “Theo theo theo!!!” his youngest sister- Elise- chattered. “Whaddaya think we’re gon’ see in town today???” “Probably nothing cool,” Nilo piped up, his arms crossed defiantly. Always the cynic, his younger brother. “There’s never anythin’ cool in town…” “Don’t be so sure!” a chipper voice piped up, another slinging an arm around Nilo’s shoulders. “There could be ghosts ‘er somethin!!!” Nilo’s twin, Tyler, was definitely the more energetic of the pair. Theodore couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics. “We’ll find out when we get there, eh?” he grinned. Popping his collar, he leaned in conspiratorially. “Ah heard from Jessie that th’ candyman’s in town again,” he whispered. His siblings’ eyes gleamed in excitement. “Ah can prolly buy ‘n sneak a bag ‘er two inta th’ wagon. Jes make sure y’all stick by ma ‘n pa this time.” “We don’ want a repeat a’ last month,” Nilo snickered, nudging his twin. “Ay, you shuttit, I did mah part!” Tyler squeaked. “‘S not mah fault pa decided ta check th’ cart fer Theo!” “Y’all both need ta pay attention ta what’s goin on ‘round ya,” Elise giggled. “I’ve always been better at coverin’ than y’all.” “Hey now, one week at a time,” Theodore shook his head, beaming widely. “We’ll git it this time. Ah promise.” Theodore cast a look at the cart’s front row. Dean and Carrie were busy talking to ma and pa about something or other. Crop pricing, probably. Didn’t seem like anyone heard anything. Good. He stuck his hand out, winking at his siblings. “Hands in fer good luck?” Giggling and smiling, his siblings stuck their hands on top of his. “Hands in!” “You bet!” “We gon’ git it…!” “Awrite. Let’s get this show on th’ road…”

The wagon trundled into town half an hour later, the horses snorting as their hooves clacked on a cobblestone road. Sun beaten buildings lined the path, worn wooden sides tacked up with posters and shoddy repair jobs. Plenty of people milled about between them. The crowds parted ways lazily around the wagon, a couple people waving or shouting out a greeting. Standard trip. Standard town. Standard people. The kids in the back didn’t pay mind to any of it. Their eyes were fixed on the approaching town square. Today it was chock full of wagons just like theirs. Wheat, beans, hay, millet- you name a crop, someone was probably selling it. A few travelling merchants had their cart shops set up, too. Bright colors and fabric hangings adorned their stalls. All the better to catch someone’s eye. A good thing, too. That’s what the kids were really interested in. Theodore and his siblings exchanged glances as their parents guided the cart into their usual space. He’d have to work fast today. His siblings had better be on their game. The gentle rock of the wagon as his father climbed to the ground drew him from his thoughts. “Awright y’all,” His father called out, hands on his hips. “I wanna see alla’y’all helpin with the sellin today. Les’ git movin’.” Dean and Carrie hopped down after pa, both instantly pulling down their usual stall crates to set up. So those three wouldn’t be a problem- hopefully. He trusted his partners in crime to keep them busy. They’d scrambled down after the group, already squabbling about something or over. Nah. It was ma he worried about. Ma was busy adjusting her large sunhat and southern belle’s dress, swiping off dust from the road. He tried to look as innocent as possible when she turned to face him. “Yer pa’s gonna help Dean ‘n Carrie up front with handlin’ th’ gold,” his mother explained firmly, “so I don’ wanna hear of any funny business goin’ on while ah’m out browsin’.” “Of course, ma,” Theodore nodded. “We’ll be mindin’ th’ shop. Ya don’t gotta worry.” “Mmh. Thas’ what y’all said last month,” his mother huffed. “Ah expect more a’ all of you. No funny dancin’ around ’r tumblin in the dirt ‘r runnin off ta who knows where ‘n scarin us half ta death, or any’a that.” “I getcha, I getcha…” Theodore’s fingers twitched up towards his hair, fidgeting nervously. “I promise we’ll be handlin things here.” Mostly. “Awrite,” his mother said drily. She sighed, giving her sunhat one last tug before hopping down. “An quit playin with yer hair, Theo. If y’all keep treatin it like a toy, we’re cuttin it off.” His hands fell quick as a hare, knuckles nearly knocking them against the wagon’s wood. “Thas’ what ah thought.” Theodore watched her walk off into the marketplace, face burning a bit. Revaew, he had to quit doing that in front of his parents. There was no way he’d let them ruin his look. Sheesh. He waited until ma quit glancing back to move. He slid off the cart, making his way around to the gated back. He grunted as he slid his hands under it, carefully unhooking and lowering the gate so none of the corn spilled out. Around him, he could hear Nilo and Tyler arguing over who’d get to put the sign out. Dean and Carrie would get on that after they finished stall setup. And Elise was up with pa, using her influence as a papa’s girl to keep his eyes on her. Perfect. He fooled around in the back for a little longer, pretending to inspect the corn. He just needed an opening. Just a small one, so he could slip out. Eventually, the moment came. With all three of his partners in crime deep in bickering, squabbling, and poking at things they shouldn’t, the three elders had their hands full and then some. Theodore managed to sneak out easily around the back. He ran along the cramped alleyway behind the stalls, making sure to put plenty of distance between his home wagon and himself. He popped out in the middle of the silk merchants’ stall. They gave him a strange look at first. But when he swaggered right past, hands tucked in his belt and gaze comfortably uninterested, they turned back to business. Good. Nobody ever pays attention if you’ve got enough confidence, he thought smugly. The marketplace spread vibrant and dusty before him. The usual area sellers were shouting to sell their wares much farther down the street. The town kept this place open for merchants. They were hard to come by, sure. But they had their busy weeks. Theodore grinned as the mix of colors, smells, and sounds swirled around him. “Silk! Fresh spun and cut to a length of your liking!” “Handmade bags and jackets! All cheap! Come’n get it!” “Exotic plants! Guaranteed to keep great and make even greater fruit!” “Toys for the little ones! Wind ups, drag alongs, stuffies, we got it all!” Oh yeah. This was a busy one. He sauntered down the cobblestone paths, keeping his eyes peeled for the swirls and starbursts of the candy stall. The more he walked, the more confused he got. Funnel cake, cotton candy, sweet tarts… all good things, but not something he could stash and hide on the ride home. Where in Revaew’s green world was the candy stall? It had to be somewhere- he trusted Jessie to know what was going on around town. If he doesn’, I’ll have ta find someone better ta be my informant, Theodore thought to himself. Nevertheless, he kept moving. Casual glances from one side of the road to the other and a meandering pace let him blend in with all the other market goers. At least, enough to mask his nervousness. C’mon… his siblings would be so disappointed if he didn’t find- Suddenly, he froze, eyes going wide. Oh no. Oh no. Not ten feet from him stood his mother. She wasn’t facing him, thankfully, but she was right there. If she so much as turned her head the slightest bit, she’d see him. And if she saw him now, he and his siblings be in so much trouble- Not thinking, the boy ducked behind the nearest stall, sprinting back along the alleyways behind the market. Ducking and weaving between different paths, he tried not to focus on the sound of footsteps and squawks from someone trying to tail him. All he wanted to do was get as much distance between his mother and himself before she noticed. He ran faster, ducking down alley after alley, desperation and adrenaline fuelling his mad dash. He could not get caught, he just had to find the candy stall and head back, he- he- Wait a minute. Where was he? Theodore slowed to a stop, leaning heavily on a nearby building. He glanced around as he tried to catch his breath. These were alleyways, sure. But somehow he’d managed to stray from the ones behind the marketplace. Through the gaps of the buildings, he could see the wide open fields and scrub of town outskirts. The hustle and bustle of town echoed far behind him. Where, he couldn't place. Oh boy. Well. This is… less than ideal, he thought nervously. Ah guess ah better keep movin. Try ta find my way back, maybe. His steps were hesitant as he moved forward, eyes sliding over unfamiliar wood and stone. Recognizable landmarks would be great right about now. But. Well. He hadn’t exactly been in this side of town. If those were a bust, maybe he could follow sound? Someone was always trying to play some instrument in the marketplace. He cocked his head to the side, straining for any hint of music. He tensed as something else registered in his ears. A strange… puffing sound. Like someone was throwing something at the ground, or stirring up dust. His brows furrowed in confusion. As he strained for more, he caught a glimpse of something bright and gold flashing above the roof of a nearby building. His eyes glimmered softly as it faded away. “What’n th’ hell…?” he mumbled. … his worries about getting back to the marketplace didn’t seem so dire. I gotta find out what that is. Head cocked and gaze sharp, Theodore jogged toward the source of the strange flashes. The closer he got, the more he sped up. The sounds got louder, and he could just make out a voice or two. The gold flashes shimmered bright as diamonds in the sun, looking for all the world like someone was turning treasure into mist. Eventually he spotted a cloud of it receding down an alleyway. There!!! Eagerly pressing forward, he all but ran down the alleyway, skidding to a stop once it opened into a small dirt patch outside of town. His mouth dropped open, eyes widening at the sight. In the center of the patch, someone was busy weaving air into towers. Or, he assumed it was air- what else could the curious coin-colored clouds be??? As he watched, they jumped off the top of one, tucking and rolling several times before their hands hooked on a newly-formed branch of smoky gold. He silently registered a couple other town kids beside him. But they were far from his thoughts. All he could do was watch in complete awe as the stranger swooped and swung through the air, puffs of smoke and gilded air weaving a lovely dance before him.  Eventually, the stranger seemed to notice their audience. They smiled, winking at the little group. Theodore could only manage a tiny wave in return. He’d never- never- seen anything like this. The flips, yes- he’d been doing those since he was little- and the stranger was doing one hell of an impressive job with ‘em- but he’d not seen anything close to the strange gold sheen in the air. Not even in his wildest dreams. None of his storybooks had this sort of- sort of- whatever the stranger was doing. Yet he couldn’t help but feel he was staring down a legend. With a rather extravagant backflip, the stranger tossed a puff of gold at the air before them- and- disappeared?! The little group gasped. Theodore felt his shoulders tense anxiously. Where had they gone? Why was their gold fog fading? Had he just imagined the whole thing??? He glanced around helplessly at the few others around him. They all blinked, just as confused as he was. What happened? Before he could wonder too much longer, another puff of gold exploded in the air above them. Everyone gasped again as the stranger popped back into existence, flipping through the air. Dust kicked up as their boots landed firmly in the center of the dirt patch, mingling with the glimmering sheen of fading golden smoke. Everyone sat in awestruck silence for a moment. Then... The stranger grinned. And took a deep bow. Theodore was clapping before he knew what he was doing, a dopey grin taking up half his face. He faintly registered one of the group peeling off towards the alleyways. He didn’t pay it too much mind. He was much too focused on how the stranger was looking at him. “Well, seems someone enjoyed the performance, mh?” they grinned. Theodore glanced around- surely they were talking to someone else- but, no, their gaze was squarely on him. Everyone else wasn’t even moving. He nodded vigorously, eager smile still in place. “Y-yessir! Er- ma’am- er- pal?- It was real cool! I ain’t never seen anythin’ quite like it!” he stammered.. “Yer moves were amazin- and- what- what was that cloudy stuff?” He paused, wondering briefly if he wasn’t supposed to inquire such things. His face reddened as he continued. “A-ah mean. If y’all don’ mind me askin’...?” The stranger just chuckled, shaking their head. “It’s quite alright,” they hummed. “I don’t tend to pass through here often- I’m jus glad I caught some gazes while practicing. And… I don’t think you’da seen much of this anyway.” They held out a hand, Theodore gasping softly as golden smoke rose from their palm. “It’s magic, kid.” The second the words registered, Theodore froze. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he felt he couldn’t breathe. Magic? That was magic? His brows furrowed in utter confusion. His gaze bounced between the gold mist and the stranger’s face. Part of him whispered he should turn and go, but- surely- surely it couldn’t be! Magic was a destructive force. Something horrid and corrupting and full of nothing but misery and laziness. You knew it when you saw it. You knew it to avoid it. And it was never, never anything good. At least, that’s what his parents said anytime someone mentioned it. That’s all anyone in town ever said when someone mentioned magic. He’d not had reason to doubt until now. “... are… are y’all sure that’s magic…?” he echoed softly. The stranger seemed to pick up on his unease. Letting the gold fade away, they nodded. “Yeah, that’s magic, kid,” they replied. “Swear on my heart.” “But- but how’d ya-” Theodore gestured for a minute, trying to put to words his clashing thoughts- “how’re y’all usin it without gettin hurt or somethin? That all looked like- like fun, not like trouble!” The stranger tilted their head a bit, a flash of something- pity?- crossing their face. Theodore fidgeted a bit, and it was gone. “Magic’s not bad, kiddo, as long as you’re keepin an eye on it,” the stranger said gently. They gestured to the air around them as they continued. “You can do a whole lot with it- every little bit of gold you saw was a spell! ‘S not all bad, ‘s long as ya know what you’re doin. Magic helps ya do anythin ya put your mind to. Like ya saw, you can mash it together with all kinds’a fancy moves, too. Y’all can do amazin’ things if you keep tabs on your spellwork ‘n watch yourself.” “... really?” Theodore breathed. “Really,” the stranger nodded. “Tha’s… I… hey, wait a sec-” Theodore said hurriedly, “who’s the “you” y’all’re talkin’ ‘bout? Y’all n who else? ‘S there other magic castin’ folks around? Where- where’re they hidin? Who are they?” The stranger chuckled at his eagerness, holding up a hand. Theodore fell silent reflexively, standing up a little straighter. They didn’t look annoyed, but. Well. Habit wouldn’t be ignored. They looked down at him, spreading their hands out at their sides. “Well… yeah, if you know where to look,” they smiled knowingly. “Just… for safety, I won’t list names. But, if you want to know…” They leaned in conspiratorially, eyes shining. “It’s me and every other human around.” Theodore stared at them, blinking owlishly. His words took a minute to find their sound, drifting around his head before he could get bits of them out. “Ev… every… person...? Y… w-whaddaya… how…?” he said softly. “Anyone can use magic, kid,” the stranger said gently. “Even you. You just gotta dig for it.” Theodore just… fell silent. This felt like something he shouldn’t know, but. Well. Here he was. And he’d never been one to turn down something big. Slowly, his gaze drifted down to his hands. Anyone can use magic? He knew he wanted to do something big when he grew up. He couldn’t run the farm- not with Dean ‘n Carrie filling those roles. He loved his little siblings, but they… his parents had plans for them. He was just. Stuck in the middle. He knew he had to do something to stand out. And… well… something about the sight of the stranger swinging around, the clapping and cheering, the golden haze and look of pure bliss on their face, the pure legendary aura that hung off of them, and the amazement they got from the crowd... He wanted that. And he wanted it desperately. Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to think on it before an angry voice rang out. “What ‘n the hell’s goin’ on here?!” Theodore froze in place at the voice, body going stiff and straight as a board. Uh oh. He cast a nervous glance behind him. Standing at the mouth of the alleyway was a small group of adults. The kid he’d seen sprint off a few minutes ago was among them, hiding behind the leader. And- with his heart sinking- he realized that wasn’t the only person he recognized. His mother was there. Glaring at him. In fact, none of the group looked happy. At all. “Kids, git over here, will ya?” the leader said calmly. Though his eyes said he was anything but. The other couple kids around trotted obediently into the group. They disappeared behind a wall of adults, a ring of angry cattle protecting their calves. But Theodore couldn’t get himself to move. He hadn’t quite realized how close he’d strayed to the stranger. And now, with all these eyes on him, he couldn’t move. He just looked back at the leader, terror bubbling across his face. The leader eyed him for a moment. With a click of his tongue, his mother darted out from the group. Theodore cowered as she neared, but that didn’t stop her. Her hand shackled quickly around his wrist, yanking him roughly- frantically- desperately- panicky- back with her to the group. He felt himself pushed into the center quickly, pressed up against other wide eyed kids. A second later, grumbling and muttering broke out. Voices were muffled, stretching over him and his fellows like a cup over a fly. What was going on?! He wiggled around a bit, trying to get a good look. But the wall of adults- his mother included- wouldn’t budge an inch. He needed to see what was happening. But he had to work with what was on hand. He took a gamble and crouched down, peering out from their legs. The sound didn’t travel well, but he could see the stranger’s face. And lip reading did the legwork there. “‘S there a problem, sir?” the stranger asked, chipper tone wavering. “Yeah. I’m lookin at it,” the leader growled. He spat on the ground, disdain all over his face. “Y’all know we don’ like yer kind around here.” “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you m-” the stranger tried, but they didn’t get far. The leader took a menacing step towards them. Theodore could feel the anger radiating off of him. Go, he pleaded mentally, you’re not safe here. “Git out of our town,” the leader hissed. “Or we’ll make ya.” “There’s no need t-” “Ah said git.” With another click of his tongue, the group suddenly lurched forward. Panicked legs crashed against Theodore’s back, sending him tumbling facefirst into the dirt. Oh shit. Theodore curled up frantically, arms covering his head. The group surged forward again, boots and bare feet barely missing his body. When he looked up again, the group was advancing steadily towards the stranger. The sight slammed his heart into his ribs. Oh Revaew- what was going on?! The stranger just stepped back cautiously, hands out and trying to placate them. Theodore couldn’t see what they were saying, but he knew they were in trouble- they were in trouble- they had to get out- they- oh Revaew- his breath was catching in his throat. I can’t let them do this.  Scrambling to his feet, the boy ran blindly past the menacing mob. Nobody noticed him until it was too late. He waved his hands at the stranger desperately. “YOU HAVE TO GO!” he cried. And that was all he had time to get out. The mob- that’s what it was- oh revaew- exploded into chaos. He felt hands grabbing and shoving him back behind the adults, many of them surging forward toward the stranger. He tried desperately to slip past- to yell- to hope frantically that the stranger was ok. But they’d been warned. With a flash bang of smoky magic, they were off. The sound and sight was enough to freeze the crowd for a moment. Enough for Theodore to wiggle free and watch. Though the mob bellowed and crashed, the stranger swung out of reach, golden clouds lifting them out of the way. Their gold branching towers ferried them quickly- gracefully- away from danger. With a tuck, roll, and dive, they landed perfectly on their boots a hundred feet away. Theodore felt their eyes linger on him for just a moment. His own were wide, full of naught but wonder. “REMEMBER, KID!” they shouted, turning tail to run, “A TRUE SHOWMAN ALWAYS LANDS ON THEIR FEET!” And hits the ground running, theodore thought softly. 

The boy didn’t really process what happened after that. He felt the mob quiet back into a crowd. He felt their anger melt into crushing concern. He felt the words of many swirling around him, none of them sticking with the phrase that echoed in his mind. Eventually, he felt his mother dragging him back to the family stall, berating and fussing over him the whole time. It was only when corn gently rustled beneath him, and his siblings gently touched him, that he finally broke from his stupor. He shook his head, holding up a hand. He did what he could to soothe his siblings worries. It wasn’t too hard- spin a tale, flash a confident grin, and make some joke about having to try again on the candyman- they calmed down quick enough. He was left to sit in the back of the cart. As the sounds of the ride relaxed into something resembling the standard, theodore stared thoughtfully out over the path. A true showman always lands on their feet. … And hits the ground running. But… Magic isn’t dangerous, not if you keep an eye on it. How had nobody told him this before? Or that… that… Anyone can do magic. … Even him. The boy’s thoughts trundled steadily along like the wagon, though they were many miles away. The day left much to think about.

[uniarycode]

Remember when I said I might to a Xros Wars liveblog/rewatch becuase I don’t remember it all that well?  No? Well today is apparently the 8th anniversary of Digimon Fusion, and while I’m going to go off of the sub (Xros Qars), if I’m going to do this re-watch liveblog thing it’s as good a time as any to start.

Haven’t really tried anything of this style, so I’m experimenting a little bit.

(Have to turn off the beta for this because pic limit, lol tumblr)

Pic of the day: Common sense

We open with a menacing army full of Mookmon, sorry, Troopmon, Tankmon, and some bigger baddies. Like physically bigger, I don’t recall them being very important. (I see you Valvemon in the top left.)  

Then we get introduced to a human and a trio of Digimon that will in no way be important.

There’s also an army of good guys, you can tell they are good guys because they show up in previous seasons.  I uh, only actually remember two of them appearing in this show.

Anyway, Taiki says Digixros a bunch, and the three non-silhouettes merge together into….x4?  Poor Starmon I guess, no recognition.  

X4 then solos the army of Mookmon, which is probably why the rest of the ‘good’ army never appears again, clearly they are superfluous.  But X4 gets taken down by a lone off-color Greymon because nostalgia.

..and it was a dream.

(So Akari and Zenjirou don’t matter....that sounds about right.)

We are then introduced to Akari, who is trying to deduce exactly which ball-based team sport she got stood up for.

She stops midway to take a selfie, kids these days, amirite?  Also to grab a bag with Taiki’s name on it...literally.

Taiki manages to pull an MVP move on the basketball court, by pretending to be in a sports anime when really just passing to a teammate.  Thus securing the team the win that he’s been looking for for months… sorry, I mean four days.

Yeah, that’s a Taiki thing.  The kid is a prodigy at nearly anything he picks up.  The implication is that he throws himself into it completely, and then:

He does not necessarily pick the best time or place for a nap.

Akari being the best character (of this arc)

Taiki reveals that his need to throw himself headfirst is because of a desire to help those in need, not because he’s just showing off.

(I am reminded how much his gary-stu ness annoyed me the first time I watched this.)

Zenjirou shows up and I’m def going to spell that name wrong at some point.  He’s mostly here for comic relief, but also to reinforce that Taiki can pick up a sport (kendo) in a couple of days and beat people who have been training their entire lives.

While Akari and Zenjirou rehash the great 1998 case of Bros V. Hoes, Taiki hears the voice of a dying king, then suddenly: chaos.  Cars merge into walls, phones stop working, the sky turns green, dogs and cats, living together.

Turns out, cars superimposed into building are not stable.  The strange voice warns Taiki of the falling car, and after he saves his friends, he is now able to see the tortured outline of Shoutmon.

All well and good, Taiki, but how do you propose helping the disembodied light?

(We also get a flashback to baby Taiki between these)

Shoutmon soft-mocks Taiki for trying to help him, and Taiki points out Shoutmon did the same, just in case you didn’t believe they were destined partners.

Floating toy with another disembodied voice.  Offering to help if Taiki accepts, he does and the x loader turns from white to red.  The others reasonably do not think touching the floating mystical toy is a good idea.

They wake up in a strange world, normal Digimon stuff, turns out the X-loader doubles as a Pokecenter, very convinent.

Then, suddenly the army of mookmon appear, lead by a new Digimon:

(Look. if the writers determined you were going to die every season, you wouldn’t be very happy either.)

But then dream Digimon #2 shows up to save them, alongside a bunch of babies.  Shoutmon also comes out to fight.  .

We get a quick sequence of the allies using special attacks to wipe the floor with the mooks, normal debut episode things.  Then Madleomon gets mad that a human is involved and absorbs all his friends to…Digivolve?

(They missed a perfect opportunity for raving MadLeomon)

Uhh, good plan?

The mysterious voice tells Taiki to use the x-loader, which he does to form…the top half of a super-fighting robot.  Which lasts long enough to get off one punch before dissolving. He then xroses the Starmon and Pickmons into a sword, (will happen a bunch.) just in case you weren’t sure of the core mechanic.

Madleomon’s powerup breaks, and he gets forced back, namedropping a greater villain.  Tactimon, obsessed with perfection.  Which is a good thing, because if he’s like half the perfectionist I know he’ll be too busy sorting out all the details of his plan to actually execute it.

Coming on a little strong there bub.  Maybe take him out for a coffee first?

The name of the kids this time is generals, but that also gets extended to some Digimon.

If you are used to normal Digimon seasons, this is going to be a bit of a jump.  It isn’t the normal 1 human 1 partner here.  This is a battle of armies, (but mostly just jogress ++)

And yeah, they know nothing.

Keep being creepy Nene.

And also blond blue boy featuring off-color Greymon. 

And thus ends the first episode that was mostly about introducing Taiki, and the concept of Digixrosing. Also uses a lot of X4 for never showing every component. 

Final note: add break card

I think maaayyybe Vmon shows up in a limited capacity?  For a series that is perfectly willing to completely ignore levels and do something completely different in terms of evolution, there sure is a lot of nostalgia pandering. 

[drunk-onsunlight]

Day #1: Beautiful, what's your hurry? 

Chapters: 1/12 Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), spideychelle - Relationship, Betty Brant & Ned Leeds Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) Additional Tags: Spideychelle Promptmas 2020, MJ is Black Cat, Peter Parker is Spider-Man, Iron Dad, Canon? Don't Know Her, Comic Elements, Rhino is causing problems, Prowler is causing problems, Dr. Octopus is causing problems, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Morgan is a smartass, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

12 days of promptmas where Peter is having fun being Spider-Man until too many bad guys are around and a certain Cat tries to kiddnap Ned in the middle of a fight (or something like that) and all he can think about is "how is he going to pretend to have a relationship with MJ on that Stark party on Christmas break?"

Notes:

I'm terribly excited and proud of this fic so I hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing it. You will find short chapters and others... not so short, they are hell long (sorry, not sorry). Done with the blablabla and have fun in this 12 Days of Promptmas Remember that every chapter's concept will influence a big plot ;)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Concept 43. Roommates 2. Shopping

Dialogue 56. "Do you wanna built a snowman?" 46. "You do know that Santa's not real, right?"

December 18th - One week before Christmas Peter and MJ have been living together for two years now. They decided it was the best way to not be totally broke because of their attempt to live in NYC while college and being close to their families in Queens. And the best way for Peter to be Spider-Man and be close to the Avengers facilities without anyone knowing, including MJ. Peter didn't knew how he have managed to keep his identity hidden while living with MJ but it was good, she wasn't in danger if she didn't know about his superhero thing. Peter and MJ had strict rules about their privacy and that made everything easier. They never went to the others bedrooms for anything, at least one of them was sick and that wasn't happening frequently. So basically Peter charged his IronSpider suit without worrying about MJ finding it and probably friking out and his three different suits were on the closet or under his bed totally save. MJ had her own secrets and he wasn't the right person to sneak a peek inside her room to find out, so he respected her room, privacy and secrets as much as she respected his. Morgan has called on a Thursday claiming that she needed to spend time with his big brother on Christmas break or she will take him out of work from The Bugle on some fake news that Spider-Man was around a shopping mall she wanted to visit. The ten year old was very persistent, just like her parents. Of course he said yes, he wanted to take some pictures of Manhattan while you can still walk around Central Park, also, some early shopping for Christmas was too perfect to reject. Morgan arrived to MJ and Peter's apartment early in the morning and took a second quick breakfast with her brother and MJ. ---------

"So, Morgan! How's school going?" MJ was familiar now with the little girl and wasn't surprised of Peter's contacts with the Stark. What she never understood was how Peter ended up working for J. Jonah Jameson and not in Stark Industries, maybe his passion for photography was bigger than his love for chemistry and labs. "Pretty good, actually! I'm looking forward to High school, looks exciting" oh poor innocent soul. But she wasn't going to break her little bubble of happiness, definitely not on the holidays! "You're getting old Morgan! High school? That's big!" Peter was always cheering Morgan, no matter what. He was such a good old brother "Then you are even more old because you are in college and you have a job, too" Morgan said with her mouth full of pancakes, that MJ was pretty sure Pepper will not approve. "MJ! You are gonna let her treat us like grannies because we have a job?" Peter always tried to get MJ involved in his conversations but she still had that little observant in her from High school "Well, if we are that old then we can't go shopping today. What if we get a cold? That would be terrible for this two old people" that was the plan, shopping with Morgan but MJ had another plan for her visit to Manhattan, but they didn't need that information "noooo!!!! We have to go shopping! My dad gave me lots of money to spend on everyone’s present! I want to buy something nice for Uncle Happy and Aunt May, for mom and dad and of course for you both! Even for Ned and Betty!" yes, that was their little group now. How on earth Peter was able to keep such a strong relationship with the Starks and his security head, after two years working for their labs, was still a mystery. Well, it wasn't hard to get attached to the Parkers and with Peter always came Ned and now Betty. "Ok Morgan! Then let's go. If we are in Manhattan as soon as the shops are open we will get good presents for everyone" the little girl took her plate when the pancakes were to the kitchen and run to get her coat, scarf and gloves for the cold. "How much money do you think she actually has, Parker?" "She is ten, so maybe not much. But she is a Stark so maybe a couple hundred? Who knows? I'm gonna text Pepper just to check, if I text Tony he will probably encourage her to buy the whole shopping mall" Peter walked to his room while Morgan returned from the living room and started jumping in front on MJ to show her that she was ready to go "Ok, we will go in a few. Can you go to your brother's room for a bit while I look for my things?" "Yeap! Don't take long, MJ!" "Don't worry. I will be fast. Promise!" MJ walked to her room and locked the door. She needed to change something from her outfit without Peter and Morgan knowing. That will bring lots of questions that she wasn't ready to answer, especially to Peter. She took her bag with all the things she needed for the day and checked twice that the leather suit under her clothes wasn't visible. "MJ is back!! We can go! Let's go Pete" Morgan was bubbling with happiness so they finally went out of the little apartment. They went down the five floors and started walking through the cold streets of New York with Morgan in between them. Each holding one of her tiny hands. The girl was talking about her school friends, her new favorite topic in class and her love for science, just like his dad. Peter and Morgan were having a lovely chat about the new tech Stark was designing while MJ was waiting for her moment to leave them for a while. "How do you know all of this, Morgan? Pepper hasn't forbid you from the labs?" "Yeah, but she stopped telling me to not go there after my tenth time sneaking into the labs." "As reasonable as your dad, I see" "And you Pete. That's why you are my brother" Peter had an easy smile on his face when he talked to Morgan. It was nice to see him so relaxed, he was extremely stressed and had been for the last year. College could be a nightmare even being a genius like Peter. "Ammm, I have to go Morgan. Would you forgive me if I go for a few minutes? I promise I will be back" "Nooo!!! Why? I can talk to you more if you want. It’s just that Peter never shuts up" "Its fine Morgan. I love hearing you both talk about nerdy things, but can I tell you a secret?" the girl’s eyes light up and she moved away a little from Peter "I'm very good at keeping secrets, MJ. You can trust me" MJ got to Morgan’s level which means she was almost on her knees. "I'm going to buy Peter's present and he can't see it because it's a surprise. Can you keep that secret?" Morgan's face showed all her excitement and started nodding furiously "Then I will text Peter when I'm done, ok?" she said the last looking at Peter to let him know she was going back with them "Ok! See you MJ!!" Morgan waved at MJ while she crossed the street to a few jewelry stores. She entered one of the stores and checked that Peter and Morgan were gone before leaving to a close ally to change into her leather suit, mask and silver wig. ------ "MJ is really nice. And pretty!" if Peter never closed his mouth, Morgan was just like him, but Peter loved it "Yeah. She is really nice" "And pretty. My dad said he is a little bit afraid of her for all your stories about her in high school but I think that makes her even greater" "Well yes, she is pretty and why I never knew your dad was afraid of MJ? Now I'm gonna mock him for that" "you didn't hear it from me, Pete" "so, what where you and MJ talking about?" "No, no, it's a secret and I don't share secrets even if there are small. Like your secret, does MJ knows, by the way?" "No, she doesn't and you know that's the best thing for her so it's going to be a secret until something terrible happens like she gets in my room and I'm arriving from patrol or something like that" he didn't want to think about the possibility of MJ finding out about him being Spider-Man because patrol ended bad "How's Ned doing? Is he still your Guy in the Chair?" "Nop, he is retired. Now he has proclaimed himself as a FOS" "what's that?" "FOS as Friend of Spider-Man" "so, I'm a FOS too, right?"

"Yes, you are Morgan. That's why you have to be really careful on not speaking about Spidey outside of the labs or the facilities. Ok?" "Yeap. Got it. Don't worry about that. Mom thought me well. She talked about a few bad experiences she had because she is close to my dad and I don't want to go through any of that" Morgan was very young but very intelligent, any other kid would be screaming at the top of their lungs that their adoptive brother was a superhero just like their dad. But she knew better than that. "Hey! Look at all the snow in the park. Do you wanna built a snowman, Morgan?!" he was very excited about the possibility but Morgan not so much "I would love it but can we wait for MJ? I think she will enjoy it as much as we will" "Ok. Let me check my phone for any messages. Maybe she wrote me and we didn't notice" no new messages from MJ, but apparently Black Cat had stolen a few things from a store on the opposite side of Manhattan. The police was taking care of the case but the evidence wasn't much. They never had enough evidence when Black Cat was involved, she was becoming a problem in New York and Peter was going to pay more attention to the new dressed up villain, but first he needed to stop Rhino. He was the big problem, has been for the last year, appearing and disappearing every few months but each time he came back, he was stronger. "Did she say something?" "No yet. What if we go to that shopping mall, do some actual shopping and then back to that snowman?" "Yes! I want to buy some summer clothes to my dad and some beautiful heels to my mom! Maybe some kitchen utensils to Uncle Happy and more nice shoes for Aunt May! What do you think, Pete?" "I think we have lots of things to do then! Let's go before MJ is back. We need to buy her a present too" they walked to the shopping mall and got a few things for everyone. Morgan bought some shorts for Tony, with Iron Man's face on them, some really expensive heels for Pepper and May and different bakery supplies for Happy "I have Ned's present in Stark Industries. It's a new program my dad worked on that I think he will love. But don't tell him! It's a secret" "don't worry peanut, your secret it's save with me" "thanks Pete. Ok, what are we buying to MJ?" "I have an idea... But we have to go find somewhere affordable and that can sell me a very specific object. Santa can't bring that present from the North Pole for her" "You do know that Santa's not real, right?" "What? MORGAN! You can't say that!!" "I'm sorry Pete. Did I ruin your fantasy?" "No... But now that's a big secret you will have to keep. No one can know that Santa is not real" after Peter and Morgan went out of the store they choose for MJ's present, Peter's phone started to sound along to Jingle Bells. "Hey MJ. We done shopping here. Where are you? Do you wanna built a snowman?" "A snowman?" "Yes. Morgan wanted to wait for you to build it in the park a few block away from where we were" "Oh. Yeah. I know where, see you there in ten?" "Perfect. See you in a few" "She's coming to build the snowman?" "Yes she is" "I really like MJ, Peter" "Yeah. Me too" -----

After a small walk and some time to find the best place to build the snowman, MJ, Peter and Morgan reunited and started looking for things to complete the medium sized snowballs that they managed to make. Morgan found a few stones for the eyes, MJ took a few branches for the arms and Peter was trying to find something for the nose of the snowman. After a few minutes he found a branch that wasn't to tin as the snowman's arms but it was too long. He broke the branch in the thicker part and placed it in the snowman face. "Oh Peter! The gym is actually paying! You broke that like it was a pencil!" Morgan’s face screamed at him that that action wasn’t completely normal for a regular person "Yeeaaahhh... The, the gym! Of course!" MJ was looking at him a little bit suspicious. She still managed to hide most her emotions but after living with her, Peter learned to read her more than she thought. "Well, I need to start going to the gym too then, you have been going since high school and it's finally working apparently" Peter knew MJ wasn't stupid, or blind for the matter. She has seen him without a shirt and knew about how his body has changed through the years because of his superhero thing, but for her, and everyone else... He was just going to the gym. That was the logic explanation behind his ripped body and his very useful strength. Peter tried to move away from MJ’s suspicious face while lifting Morgan from the ground.

“I think it’s quite decent. What do you think, Em?” Peter asked MJ

“I don’t look that bad, actually! Morgan, can you rate the snowman?” They were looking at the weird snowballs with the stones for eyes and several branches around his “body”

“I give it a 7 out of 10, something is missing… A SCARF!!! He’s getting cold without a scarf” Ok, Santa wasn’t real but the snowman was getting cold. Peter and MJ shared a look and started laughing, they found funny that the snowballs were cold. Peter took his scarf off from around his neck and placed it on between the top snowball and the middle one.

“There you have it! Now he is fine and won’t get a cold” Morgan looked pleased at the snowman and took MJ’s hand in her right hand and she offered her left had to Peter.

“Ok, now it’s a ten. I think we can go and wrap all this presents on the apartment. Can we Peter?” Morgan looked a little tired

“We definitely should, maybe we can have some hot drink too” MJ wrapped her bag on her shoulder without letting go of Morgan’s hand while Peter took the six different bags from around the snowman and the three of them stared to head home.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks to @spiderman-homecomeme for organising this amazing event!

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹one love confession, please➹(peter b. parker x reader)

The sad and divorced man who’s become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn’t something new; you can’t count with both of your hands the times you’ve heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn’t experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.

(PART I)

word count: 12.3k (oof)

warnings: cursing, alcohol, and mentions of sex (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: it’s five am where i live and this is already awfully long so i’m gonna make it as brief as i can. first, i’m sorry it took eight months, but at last, it’s here, and i’m so happy and proud of it ! thank you a million times for the amazing support this story got, seriously. second, this was also for @connorshero 1.6k followers writing challenge, and i can’t express enough how ashamed i am that it took so long lmao, i’m a clown. it’s here, tho, and i hope i hear your thoughts and that y’all enjoy it (:

taglist: @fanbase-jumper

Never in a million years would you have deemed possible a human could undergo through such a crushing feeling of dread, yet, sadly, you found yourself to be wrong, for there you were, a pressure smothering your lungs and an iciness washing over you. You never would have imagined yourself hiding in the bathroom from a certain Peter B. Parker, either; but then again, contrary to your previous thinking, there you sat on the closed toilet seat, your eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily as a frostbite in your heart eclipsed any other thoughts in your head.

For the last few days, you had tried to repress a memory which physically pained you as you worked at the bar, almost as if it were nothing more than a bizarre dream you had one night, or a movie you watched as a little kid and couldn’t figure out as a grown-up whether it was real or not. It didn’t take long before in your restless little brain, that date did not exist in the calendar. So… strange, how all of sudden you couldn't remember anything from that night. Yeah, nothing happened. There’s no reason or possible explanation as to why you nearly dropped dead to the ground every time the entrance opened, or why your lower stomach erupted like a geyser refusing to rest whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror of the bruises on your neck and, just maybe, somewhere in the back of your head, recalled how they came to be in the first place; how the small vessels burst, why they’re there. Your self-induced amnesia surprisingly worked. Yeah, like a charm. Until you looked up for the billionth time and it wasn’t another false alarm. The fortress of protection you constructed collapsed as if it took no effort to build it, because there he was— there stood Peter, just a few feet away from you.

Of course, you panicked; hysterically searched your surroundings for an excuse to leave, but no one wanted to bother you when you most needed it. Terrible luck, indeed. You only had two choices (although, really, you most likely had more): you could be, you know, smart and face your problems, or, Peter, to be more concise, or you could run away to hide and wait it out in the bathroom. So, after analyzing it thoroughly for approximately two seconds, what did you do?

Get the fuck out of there, obviously; you threw your towel, sped out of the bar, and instantly headed to have the meltdown of the century in the bathroom.

You screamed into your hands as you relived everything in your head, stomping your foot on the floor tiles. Remorse didn’t suffice anymore to explain the sharp pain in your stomach. You’d sabotaged yourself— you got a nip that night, a morsel of something greater, a catalyst for ‘what if’s and a total loss of self-control, because once the temporary high didn’t satiate you any longer, you’d seek it again. Regardless of your constant imbecility, you weren’t oblivious: it was nothing more than a distraction for Peter’s troubles and conflicting emotions over a woman he’d married, and it would never mean anything to him. It never would, despite how much it meant to you.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, narrowed eyes reading the recent message while your heart went ballistic.

‘You can’t stay there forever, he’s starting to get suspicious.’

You breathed out, partially relieved. It was your friend. You texted him earlier as you lost it in the bathroom stall, as one does. You were close to getting on your knees and start praying to any superior entity that he was simply imagining stuff like most of the time, attempting to read in between the lines when, in reality, all Peter did was drink his whiskey served over ice, totally unconcerned. Yes, perhaps, you running away didn’t signify ‘subtle’, and the fact that you two hadn’t shared a word or texted ever since you fled his apartment a week prior didn’t brighten the situation at all. Why should it matter if you chose to continue escaping your issues? You could stay there forever, and it was no one’s business. The bar’s urine-scented bathroom could be your new home.

Your phone rang again. ‘Dude, c’mon.’

Goddammit.

Your friend shouldn’t have the power to knock some sense into you with just two messages, but he did anyway. You required an abundance of courage you did not carry to hesitantly walk out of the stall, and then the bathroom. You were sure your heart could hop out of your chest, as gruesome as it may have been, at any moment as Peter’s figure came closer and closer to you with each dreadful step you took. It wasn’t as dramatic in real life, most likely (most definitely). But as if you finally understood your situation, the charisma awakened from its sleep and, in an instant, you let out a disappointed ‘aw!’, replacing your terrified features with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, man! Somebody else already took your order? Unbelievable.”

He reacted as though he overheard the most unbelievable noise— a call from God itself or extraterrestrial life, because he could’ve gotten some whiplash by the way in which his head jerked up.

Peter cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with his hands as he showed you a tight-lipped smile. “Uh, hey! Hey…” He exclaimed and you winked at him. “I thought you weren’t here, or something.”

You thought for a moment. For real this time. You couldn’t say ‘I was just having a breakdown in the bathroom’. “Nah, my boss just needed my help… with stuff,” You waved your hand, aware that your boss had left an hour ago. He hummed and nodded, downing his shot. Wait. Your eyes returned to his glass when you fully took it in. It wasn’t whiskey served over ice.

You pointed at the empty drink in his grasp. “What’s that?” 

He glanced down at it, raising a brow. “What, you’ve never seen a shot of vodka?”

“No, no, I mean— yeah, but what the hell happened to your whiskey?”

Peter pressed his lips together, shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno, guess I just… got tired of it?”

The corner of your lips tugged down momentarily. “Ah, I see…” You distracted yourself with a glass, cleaning it despite its already pristine look. You just needed anything to focus on other than Peter. “This is so tragic, your whiskey days have come to an end.” You joked, laughing quietly and disguising the aching in your chest.

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow and grinning a confused smile. “What’s wrong with vodka?”

“It’s just… so boring.”

An incredulous grin stretched across his face. “More boring than whiskey?”

Your smile faded, a frown taking its place. “I… I’m guessing I had just grown used to it— I don’t know.”

For the first time in a whole year of weekly meetings and ongoing chatter, an uncomfortable silence sat amongst you two. And for the first time, too, you did not know what to say. “Y/N?” You looked up at him attentively, although you did not want to hear what he had to say at all.

Peter avoided your gaze, instead focusing on his lap, and opened his mouth, closing it when you couldn’t think up any words. “I think, uh… we gotta talk, right? About… y’know.” Your face heated up as red as a field of roses.

You laughed nervously, your hands on the bar as you slanted forward. “...About what?”

“Just, about what happened, and that thing you said the morning after—”

“Did I say anything the morning after?” You cut him off, wishing you’d stuck with your plan of moving into the bathroom.

To your horror, your biggest fear unfolded as Peter let out air through his nose, chuckling without humor.

“Are you gonna try to convince me it was a dream again?” You nearly passed out as Peter cited the words you so vividly remembered uttering. “‘You’re just dreaming?’” It all came back to you, everything— your forced memory loss received a fatal blow as memories bombarded your brain: Peter’s face twisted with puzzlement and sleep after you blurted out your utter nonsense and— how could you forget, oh God, how could you— the cherry on top, your uncomfortably intense five-second staring contest as you headed for the door and dashed out of his apartment.

“‘Wake up?’” He continued and you merely blinked back at him. He didn’t need to fucking quote you and remind you what a joke you were— who does that? But also, who tells the guy you just hooked up with that he’s dreaming after he caught you in the midst of trying to sneak out? B-B-Bingo! Of course, of course it had to be you out of all people.

You stood frozen, like you did that embarrassing morning, begging your head to stop it with the callbacks and breathing out. “What if it was a dream? You never know.” You said, unwilling to give up your idiocy. Peter stared at you, his lack of amusement terrifying you further.

“A dream.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N—”

“What?”

“Stop acting like an idiot, please.”

“Peter, you literally could’ve brought up anything else other than this.” You hissed, exasperated. “Any other fucking thing.”

“I can’t not bring this up.”

“Well, why not? I surely can.”

“‘Cause it was weird.”

You grimaced and covered your face with your hands, muffling your words, “Oh my God, I know, I fucking know. What did you want me to do—”

“I don’t know, maybe just talk, you know!” He suggested with raised hands, the harsh sarcasm in his voice deepening your pained expression. “Wh-why did you even say that?! Like—”

“I didn’t want to be there! I just wanted to leave, okay?!” You admitted loudly, uncaring of your blatancy. When you didn’t hear him, your shaking hands slowly unveiled your face. A man two seats away eyed you two as he drank, while Peter stared at the counter with knitted brows, digesting what you said.

“Do you wish it had been a dream?” He asked quietly. You began to tap your finger, your lips shaping the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t exactly know how to.

“No. That’s not it, I…” You croaked out. You couldn’t continue when you noticed what you thought was a flourishing desire in his eyes which you saw that same night back at his place. Just say it. Your fingertips thudded the wood faster, your feet shifting, voice stuttering. Say you’d do it again.

“It was just a one-time thing, right?” You whispered. Then, you doubted if that lust had simply been a delusion your brain fabricated. That, perhaps, you yearned for something bigger so badly you’d projected your own silly cravings onto the man, for all trace of that weakening glimmer was now nothing more than the familiar amity the always held.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Right.” You breathed out.

“It was just a one-time thing.” He repeated as if it were obvious.

“Yes.” You both nodded, unable to look at each other straight in the eye without squirming. As soon as some clients called for you, you shared a last glance before you left. When you returned, all you found were some crumpled dollar bills and no sign of Peter.

You didn’t buy him a gift. And neither did he, but he did send you a message saying, ‘Merry Christmas!’, and there exists a possibility that you broke down crying whilst drunk because of the smiley face he wrote along with it, but that’s something you wouldn’t ever disclose— even if it happened one more time during New Year’s Eve as your head pounded with the people around you religiously blowing their party horns. That was it, though. You didn’t see him at the bar, which a part of you could only be thankful for, but the remaining kicked itself for not fixing things when you had the chance to. For not being honest when you could have.

Your friend yet again with his wisdom from the gods told you to stop wasting time and move on with your life, albeit not as kindly, as if saying it in such a way wasn’t hurtful enough. However, after being too sensitive for two seconds, you sucked it up and knew that he was right. 

You managed to keep Peter out of your thoughts most of the time, focusing on your job and getting additional money with your paintings to treat yourself. You could go out more with your friends, buy a new TV, maybe save for the vacation you’d been dreaming of for the past years. For some time, as there was no Peter in your head nor at the bar, it was just like before the man nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose sat down in front of you.

You could only maintain him out of your orbit for so long, though.

You sat at another bar two blocks down your place, hunched over and your eyes glued on your cell phone’s screen, anticipation pulling imaginary strings connected to your fingers which fidgeted, tossed the device from hand to hand. Your friend was the fourth person you texted in the last thirty minutes, an act born from desperation, perhaps; created upon an urgency for an anchor, a quick fix that would momentarily patch up the heaviness in your chest that made an unwanted visit too many times to your liking and dissipate all the thoughts in your head. You needed something, a distraction, anything— hell, you’d even texted your boss, a known shopaholic, asking if she wanted to go shopping. But everyone appeared to be doing something that night, too engaged in their own affairs to remember you. It was selfish, you understood, to think that way; they had lives, after all. Nevertheless, that selfishness was a blemish you couldn’t vanish as the three dots emerged, followed by the exact same message you dreaded: ‘Can’t tonight, I’m with dad. What about tomorrow?’ There was no tomorrow, though. No, you ached for it right now, in that instant, something.

Peter.

No. You couldn’t. Another decline was a final blow you couldn’t withstand, anyway, especially from him. However, you weren’t the one making the decisions anymore. Your heart manipulated your limbs, and in a blur, you’d searched his contact. Too soon to your liking, you heard that tedious beeping, your heartbeat then the sole noise in your ears once it halted. All of a sudden, you couldn’t talk, your words lodged in your throat, because it was strange to hear that voice again and it was too much for you right now.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Peter said after you didn’t make the slightest sound, hesitance evident in his tone, for he wondered whether it’d been an accidental butt dial. You took in a big breath and pressed your phone closer to your ear, your elbows aching from the hard counter they rested upon.

“...Hi.” You scrunched up your nose, shaking your head at yourself.

“What… what’s up?” It was odd, you both knew, because when did you ever call each other, and when was the last time you two talked? But turning a blind eye to your friend’s advice, you itched to fulfill your own cravings that night— it didn’t really matter what kind, but just a friend was all you needed, just someone.

You stuttered for a while, internally grateful he remained silent and waited for you to clear your mind. “Nothing. That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” You could hear the engines of driving vehicles in the background and you frowned, scratching the back of your head.

“Sorry, are you busy? I didn’t mean to bother you. I can call another time—”

“No, no!” He stopped you, your heart growing wings, fluttering and capable of flying out of your chest with how gentle he sounded. “I just got done with something and I’m going back home, you don’t have to hang up.”

You hit the tip of your shoes against the bar, tense brows still not relaxing. “Oh, okay…”

“Are you at work?

“No, my shift ends at a normal time on Friday’s, thankfully.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I see— so you’re home alone and bored?”

You observed the place around you, focusing on the bartender and then on your drink. “Eh, not exactly.” You closed your hand into a fist, struggling to not dissect the skin around your nails like an animal in a biology class. “I know this is unusual, we never really talk outside of the bar and we haven’t seen each other in a while, but…”

“It’s kinda our first phone call, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your lip trembling. “Y-Yeah. Our first phone call.” You almost cursed when your voice wavered.

“Hey, you alright?” 

You sighed, scratching your head. “Not gonna lie, I’ve been better.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid, I don’t know.  It’s a Friday night— everyone’s out having a good time, and I’m just… here, in a bar and on my own.” You shrugged, your nails carving the timber.

“It’s not stupid.” He murmured and you snorted, unconvinced. “If it makes you feel any less alone, I’m not exactly out partying and having a good time, either.”

“Do you even still party, grandpa?”

“Just ‘cause I’m old, it doesn’t mean I still haven’t got the moves.”

“It definitely sounds like you don’t.”

“Don’t sound so sure, you haven’t seen me at my best.” Seeing him wasn’t necessary, you could easily imagine his teasing grin.

“Hm, yeah, I’d immediately take off my clothes if you pretended to lasso me at the club.” You both giggled and you hugged yourself, glancing at the empty stool beside you, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you maybe want to come and have a drink with me?” You shot your shot, to your thumping heart’s dismay. Guessing by the click you distinguished, he probably just got back home.

“...Have a drink with you?”

“J-Just to hangout, you know.” You quickly explained. “Chat for a while. I can pay, if you want.”

You waited for a response, a rejection. But it didn’t come.

It was quite embarrassing, to say the least, that after he agreed and you hung up, you almost dropped your phone with how the fright weakened your arms as you tried to send him the bar’s address. You eagerly waited, too, like a damn puppy anticipating its owner’s return at the end of the day. Using your phone’s selfie camera, you checked your appearance, tidying up all just to make yourself look way more put together than you actually were, even if you were in a bar, alone, and, well, drinking. Despite your awaiting, though, you were taken off guard when a man chose to settle down beside you and cleared his throat.

“I gotta say, it’s weird to see you on the other side of the bar,” Peter smiled as a greeting. Your eyes scanned him, taking in his presence, struggling to process it as if he were a ghost. In your defense, it did feel as if he hadn’t been part of your world for the last two months.

You chuckled, shyly moving your view to your beverage. “Sorry, I won’t be playing bartender tonight.”

“Too bad, I like it when you give me free drinks.”

“Technically, you still are getting free drinks from me tonight.”

He huffed, a crooked smile lingering on his face. You called for the bartender and side-glanced at Peter, quietly asking what he wanted and biting back a disappointed grunt when it wasn’t whiskey served over ice. Whatever. It was just a drink. You two didn’t share a look after that small interaction, though, your face flustered, redder than the bartender’s awful and painful-to-look-at-from-how-bright-it-was shirt. You preferred to believe it was the alcohol, regardless of the truth that you hadn’t drunk that much yet. But your skin burned since he was there, and suddenly, the last disastrous meeting you two experienced replayed way too loudly in your head, the scorching sensation only spreading further and gaining more vigor with the possibility that it did the same in his, too. The unspoken and evident discomfort was enough to make you assume that it definitely was on his mind. 

You made the effort to spark up a conversation with the dreaded small talk. ‘How have you been?’, ‘Anything new?’, ‘The weather’s been pretty cold lately, huh?’— blah, blah, blah. Nonetheless, neither of you had more to say other than short, boring responses. It became so unbearable, you knew the only way you could get through this night— seeing as you couldn’t leave after he’d just gotten there— depended on your current and whoever many you could afford future drinks. Quite an alcoholic mindset, perhaps, but there was no way you were the only one or that Peter didn’t have the same wish as you.

Holding your third drink, tispy thoughts pressed you to climb out of the hell you were in. You turned your body to face him, nudging his leg with your foot. He’d been paying attention to a wildlife documentary and an animal hiding from its predator before he lifted an eyebrow and nodded at you. “What?”

“Where have you been?”

A crease formed between his brows as he found it hard to differentiate this question from the one you asked earlier. “I told you, I haven’t really been up to much—”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I asked. Where have you been?” Peter pursed his lips, contemplating.

“New York.”

You hummed, bringing your drink up to your lips. “Okay. So if you were here, how come I haven’t seen you since, uh—” You pretended to count in your head, tongue poking out of your mouth as you summed with your fingers. “—December?”

“I was busy.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you hadn’t been up to much?”

“I… haven’t,” Peter said slowly, too far in to escape the contradiction. You bit your lip before finishing your half-empty drink all in one go, head spinning, the weight in your stomach drawing you down to the Earth’s core.

It’s difficult to perceive the line between overthinking and legitimacy. It’s so fine and faint, like a message written with chalk in the middle of the neighborhood’s road that can only be deciphered if you stare at it long and closely enough after the days have passed by and the rain showered upon it. On one side, the message was nothing more than scrawls and nonsensical letters, an unnecessary distraction on the road disrupting you from reaching your destination on time. But then, there was the other side: the truth. A truth that, funnily enough, you reached by overthinking in the first place. Which was what occurred when you suspected the reasoning behind the lack of Peter in your life could be pinpointed to the man purposefully avoiding you; and, right now, grasped that, after all, it wasn’t just another case of irrational overanalyzing. 

“Do you hate me?” You blurted out, your eyes going round with the disappearance of your filter. Confusion overflowed Peter’s head and spilled into his expression, adorning his face.

“Huh?”

“Do you hate me—”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Where the hell did that come from, though?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You stated the obvious, visibly hurt. Peter denied with his head the misconception, sighing.

“It wasn’t intentional.” He assured you not just with his words but his gaze, too. You pressed your lips together, not fully convinced.

“Was it not?” You asked with a small quirk of your mouth. He stared at you, embarrassment crawling across his skin.

“Alright, maybe it was.” He admitted sheepishly. You let out air through your nose, turning on your seat.

“So you do hate me.”

“Y/N,” Peter called for your attention, although he knew it was half-joke. You returned your attention to him. “If I hated you, would I be here, sitting next to you?” He questioned, motioning around him. You shrugged one shoulder, a grin growing on your face.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just being nice.” You said and he groaned jokingly, sporting his very own lopsided grin.

“I’m being nice because I like you.”

Your smile fell for an instant, but you put the expression back up, reminding yourself that, once more, it didn’t go further than platonic. “Good. But you were mad, then.”

“No, not exactly.”

“You left without saying goodbye last time.”

Peter frowned, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did. Sorry.” He apologized, the sincerity interlaced in his voice worsening your state. You wanted to place your hand on your chest, as you diagnosed with your zero quantity of medical knowledge that you had a high chance of having a heart attack before the night came to an end.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?”

“Well,” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand, moving your eyes elsewhere. “First, for being a dumbass back when we hoo—”

“You know what? You’re fine.” He interrupted you. “Save yourself some time.”

Your brows snapped together. “But—”

“You were right. Let’s just not talk about it and move on, alright?” He waved his hand, grabbing his drink. “If you do talk about it, I think I’m actually gonna get up and leave.”

You laughed, nodding. “Ah, I see. So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, then?”

His actions halted in the midst of taking a sip. “Maybe.” He answered vaguely.

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Peter.” You pointed out like the hypocrite you were, particularly after that was exactly what you were doing not too long ago. Peter, unaware of this, however, had to admit you spoke the truth as he rubbed his nose with his knuckles, grumbling.

“You see, you say that, but I’m still gonna continue doing it.”

“No, you’re not, because we’re going to discuss this like adults—”

“As an adult, I’m telling you that all is good and I’m over it.” He finished with a warning tone you couldn’t take seriously and you giggled. “Next topic.” 

“Okay, grandpa. Sure thing. All is good.” You grinned, the ice in your heart melting off as he copied your countenance.

“For real this time.”

“Yeah. For real this time. Can I be honest with you, though?” Peter waited for you to go on, paying close attention, his gaze soft. You stared at him for a moment too long ‘till your eyes moved to your hand now feebly holding your empty drink. “I missed you. Kind of. Is that dumb?” You mumbled, your voice small.

You couldn’t properly see him, but through your peripheral vision, you didn’t catch any movement. That’s when you prepared to scream ‘sike!’ to his face— a real-life undo button to delete the emotions you couldn’t take back and shove down your system anymore. However, it felt… good. For once, it wasn’t spilling your guts out and regretting everything as you attempted to cram your organs back into you; you had plucked out a thorn that’d been hanging inside the palm of your hand for far too long. It was liberating. And you peered up at him, expecting that relief to be temporary, but his tender features didn’t let that happen.

“...No. I missed you, too.”

You both smiled.

The conversation began to flow. Words started to spill, and although you weren’t at the bar, you enjoyed that exact same security and blissful buzz. You realized then— a revelation that did not help your case— the location didn’t play an important role, and perhaps it never did; bar or not, if Peter was there, you’d still feel stupidly and overly content. Your worries faded away as you two caught up with no drop of MJ’s name, but some lingered anyway, because change was inevitable, looming over you. Laughter left your lips, his hand rested close to yours on the counter. You noticed, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, to walk away from the euphoria tainting your body. More liquor entered his, over time you stared at his mouth one, two, three, four seconds too long as you became intoxicated along with him, and so did he with yours.

“C’mon, tell me.” You pouted for an instant, interchanging it for a drunk smile. “Your secret dies with me.”

Peter slammed his fifth drink down, cheeks tinted pink. It was wrong, indeed, to take advantage of his condition and try to get out of him something you’d wanted to know for the longest time, and that he kept to himself as if it were government classified information. In your drunken brain, it did not seem too far off. Perhaps he went on outrageous underground missions. You laughed at yourself. Peter didn’t seem like a spy-type of guy. Unless…

“Do you, like, work for the government?” Peter screwed up his face at your absurdity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Peter opened his mouth, a giggle escaping. “I can’t.” You dragged your stool closer to him, as you weren’t close enough already. Actually, when did you get so close? It didn’t matter. You analyzed his face, hoping that somehow, if you looked at him long enough, you’d gain the ability to read minds and crack into his. Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, studying you like you were the most interesting being. You didn’t know why, but you felt tempted to move that strand of hair that always hung in front of his forehead away from his face. As any rational person wouldn’t, you did, your thumb brushing against the barely visible scratch that started the conversation in the first place.

“What are you thinking?” You questioned, brimming with interest. He went crossed-eyed as he tried to follow your hand.

“About stuff. Whatcha thinkin’?” He asked back, his view traveling down to your lips. You bit your lip.

The closeness, your full-blown pupils, the actuality that you could lean closer to him and you’d meet his lips. It all seemed too familiar. And so you wondered, if you did move and kiss him, if you stopped resisting and glanced down at his lips, too, what would happen?

“I don’t know. What does it look like I’m thinking?” You asked, lowering your voice. The stench of alcohol should have been enough to stop you both from advancing any further, but Peter licked his lips, smirking.

“It seems to me like you wanna fuck me.”

You gasped, hiccuping. “Oh, my! I didn’t know this part of yours, Peter B. Parker. Is it just the alcohol speaking?”

“Maybe. But is it true?”

“What?”

“What I said.”

Your upper body swayed closer to him, tired, dizzy, and wishing to lie down. You gripped his shoulder and helped yourself add some distance, your other hand landing on his knee. “Maybe.” You simply said. Your eyes remained interlocked into one another, your hand running up his shoulder to his neck, and then all the way up to the back of his head, sensing his goosebumps. “Maybe…” You repeated as your touch on his knee traveled up his thigh. Peter took in a sharp breath, his hand unconsciously wrapping around your wrist.

You couldn’t help it anymore. You leaned in and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pull away, a voice said in your head as you felt his tongue momentarily slide against your bottom lip. Pull away, the nagging voice went on and you did, shaking your head.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again.” You whispered, yet your mouth came back into a messy kiss, even messier hands craving touch. Breaking glass startled you two apart and you looked down, sighing when you saw your drink’s contents all over the ground. “You owe me a drink.” You panted, your lips swollen.

Peter scoffed, his half-smile blurring your vision as he tilted his head towards your ear. “Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.” He said, mouth ghosting near your cheek despite his words, yearning to continue. You pecked his jaw, lips resting against his hot skin, careless about the other customers in the bar.

“I do want something to happen, though.”

You both ignored the conversation your sober selves had. ‘It was just a one-time thing, right?’. Peter slammed your apartment’s door closed whilst your lips were still connected, your hands clumsily coming down to try to unbuckle his belt. ‘Yeah’. His own hands aided yours, the clinking of his belt buckle speeding up your heartbeat as if it weren’t already dangerously fast. ‘It was just a one-time thing’. Peter groaned into your mouth, tasting like liquor, like something you’d both regret the next morning but did not care about the consequences, even if it was a lesson you’d already learned. Not at the moment.

But nothing happened.

You couldn’t recall much the next morning. The first proof that it didn’t go further from a make-out session was that you woke up in your bed, alone, and wearing the same clothes as the previous night. The second evidence you gathered when you barged into your living room and there slept Peter on your couch, his appearance also identical to the one in your hazy memories. He didn’t remember anything. As you struggled to cease your trembling legs, he simply laughed and asked if he got so wasted he had to crash at your place. You shrugged and smiled, still capable of tasting his lips and vividly feel his hot breath.

From then on, you avoided drinking or being too exhausted to have any common sense when you were around Peter. One day he invited you to go out and have a few drinks again, to ‘repay’ you, and to which you responded as calmly as you could that you had other ‘plans’; other plans that, truthfully, were faker than the disappointed expression of yours that followed. Then, as if you couldn’t ever reach a state of peace, he asked again a month later, and you had no other choice than to invent a faulty reason for why you didn’t feel like drinking that night, the next night, or the one after, even if, according to all the drunk stories you’d recounted to him in the past, you never really turned down a drink or the opportunity to get inebriated. Guilt poisoned you when he never brought up the idea after that, fingers crossed that he didn’t get the impression you didn’t want to meet him in other circumstances other than the bar; regardless that that’s exactly what was going on. Every other night after he helped you with closing the bar, you’d also nod goodbye at him and stand in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting until he turned around the corner so your feet could dreadfully carry you to the subway station, your now-unfixable car present in your head like an aggravating piece of gum that stuck to your shoe.

Nothing could be more vexing than this, though.

Eventually, you began to wonder. Perhaps, yet again, you were as weary as that time you slept with Peter, seeing as you couldn’t think straight, almost as if you’d suffered from a concussion and all your neurons died, to your utmost dismay. But there was a dissimilarity: the unfortunate detail that, unlike physical fatigue, mental exhaustion wouldn’t pack its bags and wave farewell after a night-long sleep. Not when immediately after you woke up, the same worries still found their home within your head. So your imagination took it as an initiative to force feelings and schemes onto you, ones which involved the stomach-churning plausibility that maybe, just maybe, Peter liked you back and you could happily come clean. You had to laugh. But then you really started to wonder.

You needed at least six reasons to follow through with it. First. He was the one who made a move months ago. Second. He wasn’t drunk. Third, you listed in your head, you kissed. Again. And, fourth, this time he might have been drunk, but if he did it both as a sober man and a drunk one, it had to mean something, right?

You were struggling to distinguish the line between overthinking and legitimacy again.

You went to work that day, decided, the fifth reason simply being that you couldn’t get him out of your head, but the sixth reason missing. A truck landing on you would probably do the job, you thought. You didn’t mean it whole-heartedly, of course. But, apparently, the universe didn’t know about sarcasm and how it worked since, an hour after the thought passed through your head, it sent you a nice little gift and Spider-Man just so happened to get in a fight near the bar and an actual truck broke through the walls of the pub.

“I can’t fucking believe a truck landed right here. This is why I hate living in this city so much,” You scoffed, holding a towel wrapped around ice up to your bruised forehead as you observed the gigantic hole where the truck happily invited itself into. Peter barely reacted to your comment, too focused on disinfecting the wound in your arm. You pulled the makeshift ice bag away from your head, screwing your eyes shut. “I’m starting to get a headache from how cold this is, can I—”

Peter grabbed your hand and forced it back up to your forehead, shaking his head and focusing again on your arm. “No, trust me, it will reduce the swelling.”

“Should I be worried that you know so much about injuries?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap. “I know. Thanks.” You smiled, recalling the urgency in his voice after he called you, saying he’d seen what’d happened on the news. He moved on to the gauze and began to bandage your arm, making sure his movements were delicate lest he hurt you more. “I met Spider-Man, though. I think I can finally die in peace.” You caught the way the corner of his mouth lifted upward.

“Really? Did he apologize for almost killing you?” Peter grumbled, accepting the scissors you offered him to cut the cotton fabric. You released a huff of air, admittedly offended and immediately going to defend the masked superhero.

“He didn’t almost kill me, it was the other guy. Bad guys, you know? They’re everywhere.” He huffed. “He checked up on me and offered to take me to the hospital, though. Pretty cool guy.”

“And why didn’t you say yes?”

You contemplated his question. “Stranger danger.” You shrugged. Peter laughed softly, muttering ‘fair enough’. “It also wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want to interfere with his, uh… superhero duties…”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t making sure you’re okay part of his duties?”

“I guess, but I’m fine, it’s no biggie.”

“Y/N, you could have died.”

“But look at me,” You patted your torso, then holding your arms wide open. “I didn’t. You’re making it sound much worse than it actually was.” Peter ran his hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly.

“Whatever,” He said, hesitance showing through his eyes. “I just think the guy should be more careful. His job is to protect the people, not to… hurt them.”

You scowled playfully, kicking him lightly. “Dude, fuck off, don’t talk shit about him like that. He’s Spider-Man. Give the poor guy a break.” He didn’t say anything, though, stirring your concern as you realized he seemed off since he first arrived. “Are you okay?” You inquired, frowning.

Peter glanced up at you before rubbing his face. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day.”

“Every day is a long day when it comes to you, isn’t it?” You joked lightly, nudging him a second time. “You helped me, now let me help you. What’s up?”

He moved his head from one side to another. “You’re always helping me.” He said almost as an apology, smiling sadly. You smirked back, standing up from your seat next to him to jump over the bar. You grasped an empty shot glass, checking no small debris had made its way into for the sake of Peter’s health (now, that’d be a hell of a lawsuit) before you slid it towards him.

“It’s my job as your bartender.”

He peered down at the glass and then up at you. Chuckling defeatedly, he took ahold of it, and you read it as ‘ah, the hell with it’ as you reached for the bottle of vodka. “I fucked up.” He whispered while you poured the liquid.

You screwed the cap closed, your eyebrows lifting high. “How come?”

Peter placed his head in his hands, nose crinkling. “I, um… talked to MJ?” And just like that, your mood took a fall as well, an inaudible ‘oh’ fleeting past your lips. “It’s the first time we talked in a long time.”

“...And?” You asked anxiously, folding your arms across your chest. Peter clutched onto the shot of vodka, watching the liquid dangerously reach for the edge of the glass after he slowly tipped it.

“Well, she’s trying to move on.” Surprise crossed your face. “And I was so distraught by it for the rest of the day that I really fucked up at work.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“That maybe I should move on, too.”

Your arms fell down to your sides. Maybe you really did hit your head too harshly, you thought, as your body started to feel heavy and you had to support yourself on the bar, for all this information you were hearing at once was colliding against you more vigorously than the pieces of wood which fled towards you earlier. Swallowing to bring moisture to your throat, you continued with the million-dollar question pestering you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You regretted uttering the words, something you seemed to be doing too much to suit your taste as of lately. However, Peter, although the question troubled him the same way it did you, clasped his hands together and you studied him whilst he went through every thought in his head and through every feeling, seeking an explanation he himself needed to know as well. 

“I’m not sure if I want to. But I know that I have to.” He finally breathed out. You leaned forward, not satisfied, needing to hear more and more even if it’d hurt, because nothing was more vexing than this feeling. 

“But you love her,” You said matter-of-factly. Silence. Your heart pounded rapidly enough you could sense it in your head. “Right?” You asked, embarrassed by the apparent desperation in your tone.

“Huh?” Peter snapped out his thoughts, blinking up at you.

“You love Mary Jane?”

He bit his lip as he went back inside the isolated room of his brain after only just sneaking his head out, evidently growing stressed. “It’s okay,” You brought him back out, sacrificing your curiosity as you gently smiled at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

Peter exhaled thankfully, downing his shot. “What’d you wanna tell me earlier, anyway?” He asked expectantly, his voice scratchy from the liquor. Oh. Yeah, right. Plans might have changed an hour ago, yet for some reason, you still wanted to come clean to Peter. However, right now, after hearing about Mary Jane, you forgot about the sixth reason and remembered why you never did in the first place after all this time.

“Do you… want to go get a drink?” You cursed your imagination for not working when it was necessary. Peter’s forehead creased with astonishment as if he never thought he’d hear that sentence again (in his defense, though, it’s exactly what you were planning to do).

“You finally wanna go and get a drink?”

“Hey, just be glad I’m feeling like it.”

It was an understatement to express you were feeling like it.

You continued searching for that sixth reason for the next weeks, even if the entire world knew that after you found it, you’d keep your lips sealed. Your friend put your friendship at risk when, during your September lunch with your boss, he couldn’t resist but telling her about your ‘secret crush’, saying he simply did it for a third opinion, but neither of you gained no new eye-opening advice for your boss dragged on about how Peter could be ‘the one’, which honestly worked in scaring you away from the topic. One day after, as you couldn’t fall asleep, you deliberated the reasons why you should forget about Peter.

One. He’s your friend. Your really good friend. You liked him being your friend. He’s funny, a nerd, and you could talk to him forever, even if it was merely absolute nonsense. Two. He’s a lot older than you. Not that eight years mattered that much, but it could. You were just entering your thirties whilst he was nearing his forties. Even if he’d made it clear kids weren’t his cup of tea, he could change his mind. You weren’t ready to settle down yet, despite most people reminding you the clock was ticking and you should start considering it. 

Three. The iconic Mary Jane Watson. Peter’s ex-wife whom he loved dearly. He might have not talked about her since he mentioned the idea of moving on, but you knew it was easier said than done. If you opened up, he could shut you down and reveal he’s still in love with MJ. Or worse, if you two did wind up dating, he could decide to leave you for her. Four. Your friend helped you with the fourth one. He had yet to tell you about why he’s bruised most of the time. It admittedly awakened the cynicism in you, for it could be something which had the potential of putting you at risk, or get you killed. Plus, if he did not want to give you an explanation, it meant he didn’t trust you enough. 

Five. You couldn’t lose him. You already almost did. Your absurd crush could be the last straw and get rid of him for good. If that was the case, then you’d do anything to muffle your heart singing its love songs when he crossed your mind or simply stood in front of you. You’d do it, even if it’d hurt.

Again, you couldn’t come up with a sixth reason. You established, then, that whichever reason you uncovered first, would be the final word. Your friend knew both a sixth reason for why you shouldn’t forget about Peter and why you should that, trying not to influence you any further, he kept to himself; it being clear in his head which one he hoped you’d find first.

It was another Friday night. You’d just returned home after wasting your money on some restaurant that definitely was not worth the price (goddamn New York) when your phone blared its ringtone in your pocket. Your heart clenched as you read the name and were about to answer immediately, until you stopped yourself. Counting eight seconds in your head, your thumb slid across the screen after you got to the last number and picked up the call. “Peter?” You were audibly and justifiably perplexed— why has he calling you at… you checked the time— ten P.M,? It may have not been the first one anymore, but phone calls were still a rare occurrence between you two.

“Hey! Are you busy?” His breathing was heavy, which made you wonder what he possibly could’ve been up to before he called you.

You opened your apartment’s door and blindly searched for the light switch. “No, I just got back home, actually.” You muttered, and then voiced a victorious exclamation when the room lit up in front of your eyes. “Why?”

He inhaled profoundly. “Cool. Great. Yeah.”

You guessed the barely distinguishable quiver in his voice could be defined as uneasiness as you sat down on your couch’s armrest, squinting.

“Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah!” He repeated, firstly too quietly but now with faux confidence. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ah, hell. You had one important question and one only: when would you get a break from confrontation and those words? The last time you and Peter ‘needed to talk’ didn’t exactly go as smoothly. That in mind, your organs plummeted down into an expanding black hole in your stomach as you brought your fingers up to your lips. “I’m all ears, as always.” No, not really, but you didn’t exactly have any other choice.

“Okay, okay. Um, I, uh… what am I doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I wanna say sorry in advance.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

You could solely hear what sounded like wind. “You’re not gonna believe me, so just, just look outside your window.”

The black hole having devoured the contents in your system, you raised to your feet and sped to the window, not capable of painting in your head a single picture of what in the heavens the man could be planning. You unlatched the lock and glided the window upward, your head gradually peering out. Your eyes went as big and round as the full moon glowing above you when you saw it.

You stared dumbfounded, close to pinching yourself to do a reality check. It had to be a dream. A strange dream. There was just no way. No fucking way, it was absolutely impossible. It was beyond the innumerable existing possibilities that Spider-Man looked back at you, stuck against the wall. Similar to someone’s lack of subtlety, it couldn’t have been any more evident. You didn’t even need a big brain or to think, to analyze deeply as if it were a riddle in a newspaper. Because it was just right there in front of you, plainly obvious and transforming your blood into ice: the phone he held up to his face.

“Hi…” Said the masked hero. And so did Peter through the phone call.

Your phone slipped from your grasp, yet you didn’t glance down at it. You continued to gawk at the man as he flicked his wrist and saved not only your phone, but simultaneously also your bank account from having to spend hundreds of dollars on a new one. You did not mutter a thanks, let out no relieved sigh when he gave it back to you. You just stared.

“I know I’m pretty cool to look at, but can you please say something?” He laughed nervously. Ignoring him, you took a step back and retreated your head, eyes close to falling out of their sockets. The phone in your shaky hands rang a second time and you answered without needing to look at the contact.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Peter, what the fuck.”

“I’ve done this so many times but I still don’t know what to say.” He groaned to himself. You put your hand on top of your head, disbelieving.

“Get in.” You abruptly ended the call and plopped down on your couch, clutching your stomach, blinking furiously after black dots uncontrollably twirled in your vision. You heard a thump, the floor shaking slightly; however, you didn’t turn around to look at your guest, instead focusing on the wall in front of you. It wasn’t until the cushion beside you sank with the man’s weight that you blew up. “Holy shit.” You cupped your face with your hands, laughing out of pure shock. “Holy shit… holy shit!”

“Don’t freak out.”

“How am I not supposed to freak out?!”

Peter— Spider-Man shrugged, his white lenses wide. “I don’t… I don’t know.” He admitted.

You scanned his mask, the mask you’d become familiar with after seeing it so many times on TV and pictures. Somehow, however, regardless if you knew that mask and the person behind it, you couldn’t believe its authenticity. “Take off the mask.” He didn’t move or respond. “Please.” You begged.

You first saw the stubble. Then his lips. Then his crooked nose, and soon, those eyes. The whiskey eyes. Peter’s whiskey eyes. Your hands wound up on his broad shoulders, and for some reason you yourself couldn’t work out, it just dawned upon you how muscular they were. Your eyes came back to his face. Yeah, that’s Peter. That’s Peter B. Parker. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. All the revelations crashed against you quick, glass shattering in your head, everything suddenly making sense. The bruises. His constant fatigue. Everything.

“Peter… oh my God.”

“I know I-I kept this from you for a really long time, and I know it’s hard to fully digest it, but I did promise I was gonna tell you one day.” He said, the corner of his lips twitching. But you weren’t smiling— all the terrible fights you’d watched on the news throughout the years flashed in your head, going all the way back in time to when you first discovered Queens’ brand-new superhero as a seven-year-old.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “You’re telling me you’ve been at this since you were a fucking kid?”

Peter let his mask drop to the carpeted ground, his back sliding down the sofa’s backrest. “Since I was fifteen, yeah.”

“Peter…”

He grimaced at your concern. “I know it sounds sad, but it’s not… it’s not that bad.” He promised you, but you couldn’t take him seriously. You picked up your legs, sitting cross-legged and playing with your fingers as you continued to go through your racing questions.

“I used to look up to you when I was little.” You revealed quietly. Peter scoffed, grinning playfully. 

“What, you don’t anymore?”

You shook your head vigorously. “I do. Shit, I still do. I never thought I’d meet my childhood hero the way I did, though.”

“Sorry I’m just a sad, old man.”

You rolled your eyes, prodding him with your elbow. “You’re so much more than that.” All humor fled his expression and he shut his eyes, throwing his head back. 

“Am I? I constantly feel like I’m letting everyone down.” He huffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. There it was, of course; he couldn’t talk about Spider-Man in a non-degrading way.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man!” You exclaimed, not accepting his utter bullshit, but he was willing to accept it as he peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I know, you always say that.”

You gave up in trying to change his mind and shifted closer to him, copying his position, unable to focus on your view of the boring, mundane ceiling; so you turned your head to see Peter getting lost in the white square. “You really didn’t have to tell me. This is a big secret.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.” You were glad he kept staring up as you felt the blood rush to your face.

“You do?” You asked, your chest warm, illuminated with glee. Peter glanced at you, nodding nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah. I really do.”

You turned your face away from him, your muscles close to tearing from how big and proudly you grinned. “Spider-Man trusts me.” You hushed to yourself.

Peter breathed out, exasperated, his eyes fluttering closed again. “Stop.” He pleaded, laughing himself nonetheless. You bit your smile back, moving to sit straight in what your friend liked to call your ‘parent worried about their kid’ sitting position. 

“I guess I was right for worrying, huh?” You smiled sadly, taking in the severity of the situation. He poked his cheek with his tongue, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to worry.” He sighed. You snorted.

“That’s dumb. You’re saying you’re always putting your life on the line? Of course I’m gonna worry.”

“Well, I worry about you, too.”

“How come?”

“If you’re close to me, then you’re putting your life on the line as well.”

You frowned, squeezing his arm to comfort him. “No, don’t say that.”

“Y/N, it’s the truth, though.” He fully sat up to turn toward you, his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s the worst thing about this. How many times have the people I care about gotten hurt? All ‘cause of me?”

You remained speechless. Moments later, he placed his hands flat against the sofa, preparing to stand up. “Y’know, I get it if you want to keep your distance from now on. I actually think it’d be a good—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You warned him, expression stern. “It’s stupid.”

“I almost got you killed that other time—”

“You didn’t almost get me fucking killed, for Christ’s sake!” 

Peter’s jaw tightened and he ran his hands through his hair, that strand of hair falling back in front of his forehead. “Whatever. You can’t be so sure, anyway.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing that he was right. You nervously placed your hand on top of his. “Can I hug you?” You asked like a child, giving him a half-smile. Peter looked down at your hand before his eyes moved to you.

“Sure. Y-Yeah.” 

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him hard, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt him slowly embrace your waist, scared of  underestimating his strength. “I’m glad you told me. It must have been really hard.” You murmured against his chest. He chuckled humorlessly, his cheek on top of your head.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, okay? Whether it’s to vent or for some weird spider shit. I…” Love you. “You’re my friend, dude.”

After he left that night, you’d never been more conflicted about your feelings. It was a conundrum; a whole headache-inducing brain-teaser. You’d striked out the fourth reason why you should forget about Peter, the original five down to only four, but you still searched for that sixth— now fifth reason. As if it didn’t scramble your brain enough that it left you dazed and your thoughts impossible untangle, Peter unknowingly joined the game with the objective of rattling you up more. 

You noticed he didn’t disappear without notice ever again, and if he did, he didn’t leave you hanging, rather he sent you a text the day after with an entire clarification. Then, you caught onto the increasing meter of his touchiness: new and unexpected hugs, holding your damn hand— although that only happened twice, but still. Your overdramatic friend didn’t even need to point it out. 

One Saturday, he sat down in front of you, and before you could greet him, he surprised you. “One whiskey served over ice, please.” He smirked. You gaped at him, laughing, face astonished.

“What’s up with that?” He shrugged, grin never disappearing.

“I dunno, I guess I missed it.”

You never thought you’d continue hearing ‘one whiskey served over ice, please’ ever again. But you did.

This year, you did give him a present for Hanukkah and Christmas. A painting of one of your favorite photos of his that he showed you one day; a day you so vividly recalled, for he asked you to come with him to take pictures of an exhibition at a museum, and you accidentally broke a statue after you leaned against it in the attempt of doing an extravagant pose. To your surprise, he gave you one, too: a photo album with pictures from that day, and a message that read, ‘Merry Christmas!’, accompanied by a smiley face. In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve again, except that this time, you and Peter were talking.

You came out of the party’s bathroom, unable to tear your gaze away for the fourth time from Peter’s New Year’s Eve message, until you bumped into someone and had to force yourself to pocket your phone. You lazily swayed to the music, your vision blurring out, turning it harder to find your friend amidst the people. While your body was there, all your five senses working perfectly, feeling the heat from the enclosed space, the music vibrating in your chest, the smell of alcohol and smoke fixed in your nostrils, your mind lived in December 20th. December 20th being last Monday: a date that continued to echo in your head, the entirety of the day playing from the beginning until the pitch-black hour of midnight. It played, played, played relentlessly, exhaustingly. December 20th, it continued, a stupid date that your drunk self could not let go of.

You distinguished your friend in the crowd, comfort kissing your body and your tired legs guiding you to him, until you moved a person aside and saw the full view of his lower body grinding against a girl all over him. “Ah, fucking gross,” You groaned, pushing the unlucky same guy as you took a turn and headed for the glass door leading out to the balcony.

You firstly bumped into the door thinking it was open, but successfully slid it open and made it out into the winter weather, the city more awake than ever twenty minutes before the New Year. But you weren’t focusing on the future. No, you held onto last Monday, gripping it so tightly it hurt, hanging onto it as if you’d be nothing once it left. You stumbled towards the bench to your left, falling defeated on it. December 20th. You turned on your phone, squinting down at the screen, eyes struggling to focus through the brightness. Last week. You opened your contacts and without hesitation called a number, bringing your phone up to your ear, humming along to the beeping whilst you awaited for the person to pick up.

“Hello?” Peter said. You hung up, eyes wide. What the fuck were you doing? You didn’t answer your own question, though; you pressed the button to call again. 

“...Hi?” 

You ended the call a second time, growing frustrated with yourself. Having finally made up your mind, you called him one last time, jumping when he answered in what appeared a worldwide record-time. “Y/N, what the fuck—”

“Peter! You answered.”

There was a short silence. “I did.” He agreed, undeniably puzzled. You slumped against the wall, muffling your dopey laughter with the palm of your hand. You could hear… ah, wait. You could see, not hear, his face in your head with no problem: his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“How are you?” You wanted to hear about his day. What had he eaten that day? What had crossed his mind? Hopefully you’d made an appearance at least once. That’d be nice.

“I’m good, thanks for asking.”  You hummed happily. “How drunk are you?” 

You shook your head, failing at rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. “Just a bit tipsy, maybe.”

“How much exactly is ‘a bit tipsy’ for you?”

“How many phone calls have we had?”

A question out of the blue, you knew, and you were expecting yet again the quietness as he processed your sudden need to quiz him about such insignificant rubbish. Well… did he think it was insignificant? So many questions bouncing off your skull all at once, worsening that awful migraine you could already feel coming… or was it the booze? No, who cares. All you cared about at the moment was his response, because knowing how many fucking phone calls you’ve had wasn’t that hard unless you didn’t care.

“What?” Really? He was going to make you repeat yourself? You dug the heel of the palm into your closed eye, white fireworks blowing up in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Like, for these past two years. How many phone calls?”

“I… don’t know, maybe like three?”

Your face fell ever so slightly. “It’s six, actually.” You heard an unenthusiastic gasp.

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Do you remember the sixth one?”

“Isn’t this the sixth one?”

“This is the seventh one.”

“Okay, and why are you giving me a class about how many phone calls we’ve had?”

“Because you don’t remember the sixth one. I’m sure you don’t even remember the fifth one that well.”

He remained quiet for a moment. “It’s a blur.” Peter murmured.

“You were drunk…” You shut both eyes now, trying to dig through the fog to recall. “It was after you came to the bar…” Peter’s embarrassed stutters, similar to his inebriated ones, helped to uncover the memory further. 

“I-I was drunk, yeah,” He admitted, “just like you are right now.”

“And what did you say?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I think you remember better than I do.”

You grinned. “You’re embarrassed.”

“Of course I’m embarrassed, Y/N.”

“Well, what about the sixth time you called me?”

“I seriously can’t remember a sixth time.”

“It wasn’t a failed booty call.”

He breathed in harshly. “Ah, I’m glad, I guess.”

A frown took over your features. “You really can’t remember?” You needed him to. He had to. Or else...  or else…

“I swear on my aunt.”

Your heart shattered, the sharp pieces prodding and hurting your chest. “So… so I guess you didn’t mean what you said?” You mumbled to yourself, realization sobering you more than you wanted it to.

Peter couldn’t help but begin to panic a bit at the mention of expressing something without his knowledge, or at least without his not drunk self’s knowledge. You immediately grew conscious of it for this time, the silence was different. “...What did I say?” He questioned, somewhat afraid. You didn’t speak. “Y/N? What did I say?” He pushed more urgently.

“It doesn’t matter,” You changed your mind. Calling was just another bad idea. You took your phone away from your ear for a second, jumping off from your seat, but your foot accidentally knocked over your drink. You stared down at the growing pool of alcohol staining the floor, seeping underneath your shoe. Blinking, you looked at your phone, at Peter’s name, and the numbers of the counter below it rising, marking each of your thumping heartbeat. 

The sixth reason. You needed it to stop you right now; an instruction to back out, the reassurance that it was still an option and it didn’t stop being one long ago. But as your finger came down to end the call for the better, your head screamed, freezing you.

Sixth. You were in love with Peter Parker.

You dropped back down on the bench, eyes glazed over. That was it. The sixth reason. Peter. The man nearing his forties and with the loveliest messed up nose. The customer you met last year and that continued to come to bar you worked at just to talk to you, his bartender. The guy you laughed with, sang with, slept with, became too close with, fell in love with. You put the phone back up to its right place, anxiously licking your lips. “Look, I’m gonna regret this. I know I am. But that hasn’t stopped me in the past, so why should it now, right?” You chuckled, your eyes wide. 

“I’m really concerned about that phone call, though.”

“Peter,” You glanced up at the sky, gulping. “I’m so glad I met you. I really am.”

“I-I’m glad I met you, too.”

You smiled momentarily. “Good. Working at the bar had become such a pain in the ass, and it still kinda is, but then you came that first time, and you called me ‘kid’ which annoyed me, but I was still hoping that maybe you’d stay, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because…” Your free hand came up to aid the other which trembled too much, grasping it tightly. “I don’t know, it was weird, I just couldn’t… I-I really wanted to get to know you. And it took some time but eventually we did talk— you said that stupid pick-up line and somehow it worked. I really need to higher my standards.”

“Hey, it was a great pick-up line.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“You gave me your number, didn’t you?”

The corner of your mouth twitched upward, and you laughed softly at yourself. “I did, I did. And I’m glad I did, even if you were just trying to get your mind off of MJ.” The truth stung as it glided out of your mouth.

Peter thought for a moment before continuing, “Maybe I just wanted a friend.” But it lacked sincerity, and you both could recognize that.

“But, Pete,” You bit your lip, looking down at the mess you’d left on the ground, the sole of your shoe now sticky. “Am I really just a friend?”

More silence. You breathed in, your chest moving up. “Be honest with me, please.” You begged, your voice hushed.

“Okay.”

Your stomach began to cramp up. “That time we hooked up,” You paused, the eerie shortage of noise on the other side of the line pushing you to go on. “Did it mean anything to you? Was it anything more than just a distraction?”

“I…” 

“Or what about that other time at my place? Why did nothing happen?”

“We were too wasted. It was wrong.”

“So you do remember.”

“I do.”

You placed your hand on top of the other, beginning to pace around. “Are you lying about that phone call, too?”

“What is it with this phone call you say? What happened?” He repeated, desperate and with a hint of irritation. You approached the railing, placing your elbows on the metal.

“Just… be honest with me.”

“I am, Y/N.”

You kneaded your forehead with your knuckles, shaking your head. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s been too long, and it’s so confusing. You’re so confusing. Or maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know. There’s… there’s this thing, I know you can feel it as well, and sometimes it’s as if there’s a chance that you might feel the same way I do, but then the next minute it’s as if not, a-and it’s so confusing.”

“Feel the same way you do? What do you mean?” He clearly knew what you meant. Your eyes traveled around the city, the cold and strong breeze nearly knocking your body backward. If he knew, why couldn’t he simply outright admit it? Why, all of a sudden, was it taking him so long?

“The phone call…”

He groaned. “Y/N, just please tell me why you’re so hung up on that phone call?”

“It was last week. You said you liked me.”

You said it. He heard it. He finally heard it, and you waited for anything like an idiot, yet it never came. You checked if you had accidentally hung up the call, but when you saw that it was still going, you sighed and decided to end it for once and for all. “We can be anything. Anything, okay? I can just be your bartender, you can be my client, we can be friends, w-we can be more. If it’s not supposed to be, then just as long as you’re there, I really won’t mind. Just, please… I’m begging you…” You whispered, not capable of discerning whether your body quivered from the winter or the fear brutally gnawing on you.

“Be honest.” 

Peter held his breath. “Y/N…” You waited, shoulders shaking, the stupid fucking silence clutching you by the neck as you waited. Just say it. Just say it—

“I’m still in love with MJ. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You said aloud, voice cracking. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Pete, no, I’m…Thank you. It’s just kinda hard to take it in, but I...” You tightened your jaw, your throat aching, swallowing back your pity. “I will. Thank you for being honest, though.”

“I really hope this doesn’t ruin things,” You could barely hear him: your brain too loud compared to his voice. You shook your head frantically, scrunching up your nose to hold back a sniffle.

“Never. I love you.” It wasn’t the way you wanted to say it. “You’re my friend. And I’m not going anywhere because you said I was stuck with you, remember?”

He laughed, a beam of light that almost mended your fractured heart. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten about that.” You smiled brightly, wiping the tears you’d tried so hard to stop from running down your cheeks. You stood straight, but it was only for a mere second, for your arms plopped back down onto the railing from the lightheadedness which threatened to bring you down. 

“Okay,” You slurred, the bile rising up and burning your throat. “I’m gonna leave you. My friend will hate me if I miss the countdown…”

“Sure. Happy new year… be safe.”

You giggled, waving your hand at no one, really. “Don’t worry about me grandpa, I do this every year.” You doubted the idea that popped in your head, but voiced it anyway, “And if you need any help with MJ, I’m here. I can give you a discount at the bar for a date night!” The excitement you forced onto yourself was salt on the wound.

“I’m not sure if that’s a romantic idea, but thanks, I’ll think about it.” You both hesitated, waiting for something once again. But when you realized that it’d never arrive no matter how much time passed, you nodded quietly and unwrapped your arms from yourself, preparing to let go of that feeling you’d clutched onto for the longest time as well.

“I’ll see you around.” You finally said and hung up. You stared at your phone, grief by your side, holding your hand. Yet, to your surprise, a weak smile started to creep on you, relief slowly sewing your heart together. You told yourself that the heaviness in your heart didn’t matter, because at least you had Peter. At least he would still be there, at the bar, with his whiskey served over ice.

As you stumbled to your feet, ready to join your friend and drink away your bittersweet ache, your phone began to vibrate. Your brows twisted together and you looked down, sliding your thumb across the screen.

“Peter?”

[hisan-miren]

Redacted File

The Love Letter Pt 2

The next morning, Mina was almost bouncing she was so excited. She threw on a dress, inhaled her breakfast, completely ignoring the startled stares of her parents, and all but dashed over to Raios' house to pick him up for school.  She rocked on her feet, looking over the entryway of the large, traditional-styled mansion as she waited for her best friend to be ready. His sister came out first- already an adult, she was going to work at the café she'd recently opened.

“Oh!  Mina!  Waiting for my brother?” the girl asked.

“Yup!”

“Geez, what's that idiot doing making you wait?  Rather, he should be the one going to pick you up. You know you can tell him off, right? You can do so much better than him, I promise you.”

Mina just gave a nervous laugh.

“It's fine, I woke up early this morning, so I was ready a bit sooner than usual is all.  Plus, my place is in the opposite direction from school.  It makes way more sense for me to come to him.”  That, and she was secretly afraid that he found their morning commute a bother.  What if she waited for him and he never came because he didn't want her around?  She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand it.  She'd been all confident when she was going off about it to her friends the other day, but in reality she was far more insecure about her crush on him than she let on.  She desperately wanted him to be in love with her as much as she was with him because then that'd mean that she could marry her best friend and be together with him forever!  

The door slid open again and a ln angry-faced teenager emerged, glaring at the both of them.

“You better not be harassing her, aneki.”

“GAH!” Raios' sister gripped her heart and fell over like she'd been shot.  “You see that?!  You see that, Mina?!?!  ‘Aneki'! What happened to the cute little brother who called me ‘onee-chama'?!”

“HE NEVER EXISTED YOU NUTCASE!” Raios snapped.  “SERIOUSLY, ARE YOU FREAKING MENTAL?!”  Raios scoffed and rolled his eyes.  “Come on, Mina, we're gonna be late.”

Mina's heart all but leapt out of her chest when he grabbed her hand and dragged her away.  She silently prayed he wouldn't notice he was still holding it until they reached the classroom.

Raios' sister stared after them, shaking her head.

“They need to just get married already…”

Raios ended up letting go halfway, but that was alright. The fact that he'd reached for Mina at all made her giddy.  She almost felt a little bad for the turmoil her plan was about to inflict on him, but she told herself that it was all for the greater good.  The two walked to school talking about trivial things like how Raios was doing with hunting sea birds and the oysters Mina had gone diving for the previous day.  These were the times when she generally saw him the most relaxed.  That perpetual furrow between his brows was practically nonexistent, and he'd even smile and laugh if she told her stories right.  Arceus, that laugh was to die for.  She actually resented the idea of arriving at school because it meant that their time alone together would end.  As soon as another kid would greet them, Raios would go back to scowling.  A part of Mina kinda hoped it was because he enjoyed their time alone as much as she did, but she knew that was wishful thinking.

Mina sighed as she settled into her desk and took a deep breath to prepare for what she was about to do.

She started putting her books away when she felt her hand brush the envelope, and it took everything in her being not to start grinning.

“Oh?  What's this?” she inwardly cringed at how stiff her acting had sounded, but Raios hadn't seemed to notice.

“What's what?” he asked as she pulled the envelope out to ‘inspect it’.

“I dunno,” Mina replied, her voice sounding oddly monotone. She coughed to try and correct herself as Raios was clearly about to catch on now that he was paying attention.  “It looks like a letter.”  She flipped it over and pretended to inspect it, but Raios snatched it out of her hands. She nearly beamed.  She hadn't expected it to go this well, but she fumbled a bit when she realized she should have gotten angry.  “H-Hey!  Th-That's mine!”  Mina struggled to scrounge up even a fraction of Raios' usual angry façade.  She commended herself for managing any at all considering how overjoyed she was.  Raios looked the envelope over and scowled at it like it had personally burned down his house.  And was he biting the inside of his lip?  He probably knew what it was supposed to be.

“I can tell you right now that it's not anything worth your time,” he spat, but he still handed it back to her and sat down, clearly in one of the foulest moods she'd ever seen.  Given his expression, she had fully expected him to tear it to pieces. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond if he had, but the fact that he didn't and even handed it back to her spoke to some level of maturity she hadn't expected from him.  She looked back down at the envelope, more than a little shocked, and wondered, briefly, if maybe she had gone too far.  She had wanted to make him jealous, but she hadn't wanted to hurt him, and he seemed like he may be genuinely upset.  He did have other feelings besides anger.  She was well aware of that.  In fact, she probably knew that better than anyone else on the island.  He just had a tendency to hide those feelings behind anger because it was the only way he knew how to express himself.

Mina opened the envelope, trying not to watch Raios out of the corner of her eye because she knew he’d be looking at her, and pretended to read it over.  Turne out she didn't need to look at Raios to see how he was reacting.  She could practically feel the rage emanating off him, and everyone else in the classroom was looking at him like he was a live bomb.  Maybe this had been a really bad idea.  After she'd stared at the letter for a sufficient amount of time, she tried to calmly fold it and put it away.

��So?”  She looked over at the boy next to her who was now looking at her like he was about to chuck his desk out the window.  

“I-It was a love letter...”  She froze a bit at his reaction.  She'd never seen him so genuinely angry in all her life.

“From who?” he ground out.

“A s-secret admirer.  H-He wants to meet me by the docks in two days to talk.”  Mina gulped.

“And?”

“A-And?” Mina quivered a bit, afraid of the monster she'd created.  He was waaaaay more angry than she'd expected.

“What are you going to do?”

“I… I'm going to think about it…  I don't know yet.”    

Raios growled and turned away in a huff.  She thought she heard him grumble something like ‘shouldn't it be obvious to turn him down?’ but wouldn't that normally be something he’d say pretty clearly? Right?

Raios was fidgety all throughout school.  Who the hell had the gall to ask out Mina.  It wasn't like she wasn't nice or pretty or smart.  She was all of those things and more, so it wasn't unreasonable for someone to fall in love with her, but he didn't want to think that someone else could possibly see how valuable she was besides could possibly have the nerve to try and sweep her out from under him.  It was a pretty well-known fact, at least in his opinion, that he loved Mina.  The fact that there was now someone else he had to compete with only stirred up unwanted feelings of jealousy.  He thought he'd had a bit more time to get himself together.  He was really trying not to be so angry all the time, but that only ever seemed to be effective around Mina.  No one wanted to date a guy who spent his whole life acting like he'd stepped on a Lego, so he'd been trying- really trying- to get his act together, but now he felt like he'd run out of time.  It took every fiber of self-control not to go storming up to any of the other boys in class at every break and accost them of trying to court his Mina.  Firstly because she wasn't actually his, and secondly because he definitely didn't want Mina to see how bad he was losing it.  No, he waited until after school to let himself freak out.

“Raios,” Mina called, “let's walk home together!”  She waved and smiled at him in a way that was so inviting he almost couldn't resist.  

“Sorry, I've got something to do.”  He immediately regretted saying that when a crestfallen look came over her. Hey, he was equally as disappointed, okay?!  But finding out who his rival was was infinitely more important.  “I'll see you tomorrow.”  He refused to look back at her as he trotted of to his first destination because he knew he'd cave as soon as he looked at her.

Mina looked after him and melted to the ground.

“Hey, you knew this would happen,” Chise chided, looking down at her friend who looked like she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“I know…  I know but-!” Mina sniffed as she picked herself up off the ground.  “AHHHH!  THE MOOD THIS MORNING WAS SO GOOD!!  WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!”

“You decided to trick your future-husband into asking you out in the most convoluted way possible,” Chise answered.

“I want to skip to being married so badly!!”

Mina reluctantly walked home with Chise and Yuri, looking like a wilted flower the entire way.

“Y'know, if we didn't know any better, we'd think you hate walking home with us,” Chise chided.

“Sorry,” Mina replied, sounding very depressed, “it's not that I don't love you two, I just really enjoy when I can spend time with him. He gets surprisingly talkative when he's talking about kyuudo, and it's so cute-"

“Okay, we definitely don't need to hear you gush about how cute you think our chief's son is.  Seriously, Raios is the most abrasive person on the whole island. Maybe in the whole world!  I seriously have no idea how you not only put up with him but are in love with him.”

“I’m so lucky you two don’t see how much of a catch he is…”

“He’s from the most important family on the island and is set to be the next chief as long as he doesn’t blow anything up or kill anyone. It’s not that he’s not a catch, it’s just that his attitude is terrible.”

“I can live with that.”

“How?!”

“Because he’s amazing!”

Chise and Yuri groaned and shook their heads, a hand covering their faces.

“Please, dear Arceus, let these two idiots get together soon…” Chise groaned.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Yuri followed.