#and Walking Wake and Iron Leaves have been in the game for months (over half a year)

[fierykitten2]

It’s exactly a month until The Indigo Disk. Surely they’ve gotta either shadowdrop a trailer today or do one on Saturday (the one-year anniversary of Scarlet and Violet)

[icarusthelunarguard]

This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter.

Aries 

No matter what you think, we’re not here to judge you. Others might, but we won’t. To that end… You didn’t want to take down your… “Year-End Holiday Lights”, and that’s OK! But may we suggest you trade them out for those new-fangled color-programmable ones? Slave them to your Home Automation system and they’ll change with each new holiday’s theme with no direct input from you. Sadly we’ve already passed May 9th, which was Lost Sock Memorial Day. So add that to your holiday list for next year. 

Taurus 

Let’s face facts - you are never going to beat that Super Mario Brothers Arcade Game High Score anytime soon. Oh, you were good in your youth, and you could afford to buy an original 1983 coin-op cabinet to play on… but do you really think you can score over Five and-a-half Million Points to take the world record away? We don’t think so either. Save that $1,500 and take a vacation next month. 

Gemini  

Remember the cartoon series ReBoot? It was produced between 1994 and 2002. One of the opening lines was, “They say the User lives outside the Net and inputs games for pleasure.” Well guess what was released to the public in 2001 by Nintendo. That’s right… a Blue… Game… Cube! If Mainframe Entertainment had TradeMarked that term, they could’ve gotten some kind of marketing deal with Nintendo and had Money To Spare! (*Sigh*) This week, try to think way ahead.

Cancer Moon-Child 

There’s a specific set of dice that are used in table-top gaming: D4, D6, D8, D10, D12, and D20. They’re all some typical geometric shapes, but. There have been some weird ones that’ve come down the pike ever since. So yes, you can buy a D1, which is a form that ALWAYS lands on a specific side, and the D7 which is a Klingon Battleship. This week, remember that The Fourth will be with you, Always. 

Leo 

You remember hearing how “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees is one of the best songs to use to time your CPR Compressions? It’s not the only one. You could use ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, “One Week” by the Barenaked Ladies, or, ironically enough, “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen. But if you really want to screw with the person’s head as they come to, have everyone around you hum “The Imperial March” from Star Wars. That’ll scare them enough to wake them up without resorting to smelling salts. This week, listen to some old music again.

Virgo 

Speaking of Smelling Salts… Don’t use them! Sure, it’s kinda funny to use them as a prank to wake up your friends when they’ve fallen asleep first at a party, but don’t use them when playing sports. Yes, you can get a hit of oxygen into your blood due to more respiration, but you don’t need it. You’re an umpire… at a Pee-Wee T-Ball league. Just relax this week.

Libra 

It’s five o’clock somewhere, so you might as well have a drink!  Come to think of it, have a lot of drinks, but make it a challenge; Run something through your Soda Stream that isn’t supposed to be. Something alcoholic. Better yet, you’re smart and innovative. The patent for the original “SodaStream”.. OH, sorry… the “aerating liquid machine” expired a long time ago. Go ahead and redesign it to work with liquors and make a killing in the Novelty Bar Drink market!  

Scorpio 

Speaking of drinks, Scorpio; This week you’re going to visit an old house. Make sure you have an extra-bright flashlight with you because you’re going to find a bomb. Not a munition, but an old Hawaiian Punch tin can from the early 1980’s. It’ll look like a blue and red mis-shapen rugby ball. DO NOT TOUCH THIS UNHAPPY ABOMINATION! Just take a picture and walk away. Leave disarming that to the professionals.

Sagittarius 

You need to clean up your Whatnot Drawer in the kitchen, like it or not. First off, that bag of rubber bands? They’ve dried up and crumbled into chunks. The super glue hasn’t dried out yet, but it’s almost ready to spill all over the battery cases. And as for those, you have three locations where you’ve been storing batteries. Just condense it into one place. This week just… get your act together.

Capricorn 

Sexy asked for, sexy delivered. We’re challenging you to buy the thinnest, tightest bikini possible for the summer. And before you ask, no! You’re not going to buy it from Wicked Weasle, the Barely There Bikini Shop, or Bitsy’s Bikinis. Head out to your local hardware store and get yourself a gallon of Benjamin Moore Latex, a 3-Inch natural-hair brush, and an understanding get-away driver for the beach. Good luck!

Aquarius 

You get a sexy one too! You’ve been worried about your weight, and we’re going to tell you not to. A couple kilos isn’t gonna kill you, and it might even be fun. Some of your clothing’s gonna fit a little tighter, look a little smoother, and need you to reconsider sporting underwear to keep the lines unblemished. Now, remember, we said “a couple” kilos, meaning two; not three or four. You start making excuses and rationalizations and you might as well buy an emergency sewing repair kit. Actually, do that anyway.  

Pisces  

When everyone said, “May the Fourth be with you”, and you answered back, “- and also with you”... We get it. It’s OK. It’s like muscle memory now. You can stop being embarrassed about it now. Just take a breath and have a drink of wine to calm your nerves. But, you know… not that watered down stuff. Drink the GOOD stuff. Riunite… on ice. It’s So Nice! (Yes, it’s a hold over from last week’s commercial theme. It was tough coming up with one for you, alright?)

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Discord.

[doubleddenden]

I see people talking about how Pokémon "listened" by giving LZA a 2025 release. Idk if I'd go that far.

I know people don't tend to like negative opinions ruining a good time- trust me, I'm excited about it too- but I take issue when we start praising companies and especially TPC and GF for something good they probably didn't intend to do.

I have some takes as to why I think we should wait before praising them for "listening" to us, but more or less it boils down to "we don't know what else they have planned for 2024 or 25."

1. It could be another January release like Legends Arceus was- keep in mind that's only a couple months extra from a normal release schedule. Now if it's later revealed to be like November or something, okay, but I don't feel that will be the case tbh.

2. This probably has the same amount of dev time any other game freak game had- assuming this is from the Legends Arceus team, 2025 is still a 3 year release cycle, just a NEW one. The question now is whether this will be their ONLY 2025 release, or if they wait til 2026 to reveal gen 10.

Understand that would probably be the best move here, since if they did so then we'd get an extra year of dev time on a new gen AND they'd get to be symbolic and release a new gen on the 30th anniversary like they did gen 7 and 4 on the 20th and 10th. But they could get greedy again like in 2022.

Continuing on-

3. The COO said they want to maintain the "cadence" of releases- basically 1 game or dlc a year as we understand it. With that being said-

4. They don't just announce Pokémon games on Pokémon day. I know it's been the norm for the last few years, but ORAS, Ultra Sun and Moon, and Let's Go were all revealed around the May to July area of the calendar.

Keeping 3 and 4 in mind, there's still a likelihood something else can drop. Could be a smaller remake, could be a port, could be a side game, who knows.

I think this take I heard recently is probably the real explanation

5. There's been buzz from a bunch of credible gaming news, articles, and reporters that the Switch successor was supposed to drop 2024, but Nintendo pushed to March 2025 due to supply issues and worries about scalpers.

This being said, we know Pokémon has had Switch 2 dev kits in hand as recently as SV's DLC development, as per the first Indigo Disk 4chan leak that revealed that it was in Unova, revealed Walking Wake and Iron Leaves, etc- but most relevant was that they were testing getting SV to run more efficiently on the next console.

So, while there's no conclusive evidence, one can infer they probably DID have a game set to release this year as a Switch 2 launch title, but had to delay when the console did.

In any case, I'd rather we not give them credit for "listening" if we don't have proof they did just yet- this isn't a streamer apologizing for a bad joke or your neighbor turning down their music, this is a corporation that knows buzzwords and marketing strategies, and money is their first and foremost goal over integrity and respect. For all we know we could get something else half assed this year anyway.

[dokifluffs]

Dada’s Home | Kenma, Iwaizumi

Pairings: Kenma X Reader (female), Iwaizumi X Reader (female) 

Genre: softest haikyuu domestic fluff omg 

Author’s Note: get fed BUT also, kenma’s isn’t really him coming home from somewhere unlike the other’s so- 

Dada’s Home | Ushijima, Tsukishima // Dada’s Home | Oikawa, Atsumu 

Warnings! All post time skip! Spoilers to manga end for Iwa! and also they have kids 

Kenma:

Confetti and a bright fanfare sounded into his headset as he yawned as bright light graphics strobed into his eyes 

Kenma let out a deep sigh as he leaned back into his game chair, thankful he figured out the ideal design for Bouncing Ball to sell

He read through the comments, quietly reading out the donations and comments from his viewers for his twenty four hour charity event 

so many told him to sleep with a mix of others with the same typical comments about saying hi to wherever they were from 

“Uh,” he squeezed his eyes shut before rubbing them back open as he reached to the side for his glasses. “Thanks onigiriman45 for the $100 donation, that’s very generous of you. He wrote: ‘It looks like there’s a little someone behind you trying to join your stream, also great games man, been watching you since the beginning, keep it up. I love watching after a long day,” he read 

“Ah, thanks for watching man, really appreciate it,” he smiled. 

“Little someone?” He turned in his seat as he looked back, the back area of his gaming room dark with LEDs strung up, lining the corners of the vast room 

you were fast asleep on the couch bed set in here for the nights you didn’t want to sleep alone in bed but you were cuddled into the blanket which covered your face 

but there his sub was right 

there was a little someone who sat on the bed who sat up with a little drool on her chin as she looked tiredly to her dad 

“Aw, D/N,” he didn’t miss a beat as he slipped off his cat headphones as he shuffled from his seat. “what’re you doing up, kitten?” he lifted her up just the slightest bit above his head as he stretched himself out 

“You need to sleep,” he said ironically as he sat her on his forearm as he made his way back, sure to leave you undisturbed

“Actually wait,” he paused as he stepped out of frame with his daughter in arm, the sound of the door sounding onto the stream 

there was a pause on the stream as a few new viewers joined the stream, asking where he went and whatnot

more donations and subs and gifts being given 

“Alrighty,” Kenma stepped into frame as he sat down, putting his headphones back on 

He scrolled up a bit through the comments, adjusting a strand of hair that had fallen into his face before his chat blew up once again 

“It seems you all noticed that I have a guest joining me,” he smiled as he glanced down to his baby girl cuddled against his chest in her carrier 

“Alright, let’s keep this train going,” he clicked to the next game, preparing the next hour or so for among us games 

The chat adored this new side of the Kodzuken 

his little girl leaned into him as he sat leaned back in his chair, easily playing the game whether he was doing tasks or pretending to be the impostor 

he every now and then looked down, adoring her sleepy little face, cheek pressed against his shirt, her small hands clinging onto him 

“good luck kiss,” he whispered, pecking her a small kiss to her cheek or beanie before he started the next game

Iwaizumi: 

He hauled his luggage through the door in a swift motion as he stepped in, his entire body exhausted and jet lagged yet to his surprise, he found the kitchen lights on while the living room lights were dimmed

He let out a low groan as he stretched, loosening his stiff muscles after a twelve-hour plane ride and then an hour and a half shuttle/ taxi ride home

But this was what he had to do as a trainer for the Japanese olympic team

The house was still and quiet with the lights on, giving him the illusion that you were awake but as he walked quietly over the carpeted floor

And there you two were

The stars of his life

You slept comfortably, fast asleep wearing one of his hoodies, laid on your back

On top of you, your baby girl as she laid on her tummy, cheek pressed on your stomach with your hands resting on top of her lower half

With her little mouth agape, her chubby cheeks squished on your stomach, she looked so precious to iwaizumi, his heart melted seeing her after so long

Her dark hair that matched his own was growing out, still very short but it was getting there

He knelt down beside the couch, resting his chin on his arm, tilting his head to the side to take a closer look at her

She was so small

He reached up with his other hand, nuzzling her plush, rosy cheek with the back of his index finger, the entire room silent

But being this close, he could hear her little breaths as she slept on you, as still as a log

Seeing her sleeping this close, it occurred to him he hadn’t seen her like this ever since she was born

He could remember that night so vividly as it it was only about a couple weeks ago

Yet a few months had already passed

A natural smile pulled on his lips, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks as he leaned even closer, his nose inches away from his

He closed the distance, rubbing his nose to hers, waking her from her sleep

But instead of normal cries from a child, her eyes slowly peeked open, a yawn escaping her as her hands closed around the fabric of the hoodie of his you wore

“Hey, baby,” his voice was low from his own sleepiness, the familiar sound even waking you too

His baby girl’s eyes pulled into thin lines as she smiled, cooing seeing her dad

“Sorry for waking you,” he knelt closer to you, pressing soft kisses to your cheek, mumbling repeatedly how much he missed the two of you into your skin

You brushed your fingers through his hair at the back of his neck, smiling as he pecked repeated small kisses to your lips

But as he did this, there were clear objections

“Don’t worry, dada’s gonna show you some love too,” he scooped his little girl into his hold, supporting her with his arm beneath her, the other resting on her back as he peppered small kisses all over her face, amusing her

“Let’s go up and sleep, hm?’ He glanced back to you as your daughter’s gaze was locked on her father’s, one small hand over her mouth, the other holding onto his shoulder

“Okay,” you let out a deep breath, your voice barely audible as he pulled you up, carrying his daughter securely in his arm

You couldn’t have asked for a better life than this one with Hajime. “Welcome home,” you snaked your hand around his waist as the two of you went up, leaving behind the dark ground level

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04  @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan​ @turquoiselace​ @macaronnv​  @oxmaddy​ @mrkoala4prsdnt​ @curiouslilbeast​ @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei​ @skyh20​ @yehetstudies​ @that-chick212

[vanishedangels]

I Think You'll Understand

Summary: It's 1985, Luke Skywalker is eighteen, the summer is near and he and his classmate, Din Djarin, bond over The Beatles music.

Loosely based on Heartstopper season one.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker.

Rating: T.

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Cara Dune, Boba Fett, Paz Vizsla, The Armorer, Anakin Skywalker.

Warnings: None.

Chapters: 2/3.

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->

"But Din, what do you want me to say? Hey Lei, I've been making out with a guy for weeks and I hid it from you?" Din's hands tensed up against him. Luke blinked staring at his face.

"That's not what is going on here." Din sounded downhearted and Luke felt a cold wave overtaking him.

"Din?"

"That's what you think about us?" Luke was looking into his eyes, almost scared of making a move. "I thought..." Din pulled away completely, taking two steps back "I thought we were dating."

Chapter 2: Meet The Skywalkers

The phone rang breaking the morning silence, Din answered half asleep. He groaned, the sheets plastered on his back, the merciless summer heat. "Yeah?"

"Did I wake you?" Luke's voice felt like honey pouring on a hot waffle.

Din smiled "Hey babe, I'm awake, I'm awake." He yawned.

"I love when you call me that." Luke said with a goofy voice.

"Oh, I can tell you're smiling like an idiot." Din cleared his sore throat "Babe." He chuckled.

"What are you gonna do tonight?" Din heard him asking on the other side of the line.

"In a perfect world, cuddling with you."

Luke went silent.

"Luke?"

"Geez, Din, now I can't wait." Din sat onto his bed. "Listen, are you coming over tonight? Dad is going out, and Leia's going to a frat party with Han, you can stay this time." Luke sounded excited.

Din was even more excited.

~

Din and Luke have been building their own private world behind Luke's bedroom walls for the past month, every evening it was getting harder to say goodbye.

They tried to be discreet but Luke suspected that Leia was aware of everything and if Leia knew it, Han knew it too.

Luke walked into the kitchen and found Leia straddling Han, they were making out. Luke let out a discomfort noise.

"Ugh! Get a room you two!" He yelled annoyed.

Leia stopped kissing Han and gazed at Luke over her shoulder narrowing her eyes "Oh! Like you did, baby brother?" Han snorted out a laugh.

Luke froze, he was gaping "Wha-what?"

"Nothing, I was just kidding." His sister turned around facing her boyfriend again.

A knock on the kitchen's door.

Luke started functioning again and opened the door, a smile appearing on his face. "Din! Come in! I wasn't expecting you today!"

Din tilted his head frowning as Luke grabbed his arm.

"Yeah Din, it's so unlikely to see you in my house." Leia said ironically.

"Oh, you already know Leia." Luke said as fast as he could.

"Hi Din." Leia waved at him smirking.

"And that's her boyfriend, Han."

"Hello, man." Han made a gesture with his free hand.

"Hi Leia... Han." Din nodded twice, he was hiding his hands in his pockets, Luke found that adorable. He also knew that Din only did that when he was feeling distressed.

"We're going now, they need privacy, Din. Come, I bought a new game, wait to see it."

Han watched them as they were leaving the kitchen, Leia cupped his face in her hands "Kiss me, Solo."

"I'm thinking..."

"What?"

"Did you see them? Do you think they're, you know... I mean, they're not going to play some stupid game upstairs." Han answered.

"That's none of your business." Leia deadpanned.

"It's just, Luke's a good guy, he deserves to be happy." He caressed Leia's chin.

She sighed closing her eyes "Of course he does, but please, don't get in there."

"They're totally making out as we talk, Lei..." He nodded raising his eyebrows. "You know Luke's not into girls and that Din guy, he's desperate to get into your brother's pants. It's all over his ridiculous handsome face."

"Stop it, Luke's not ready yet, it's not easy, he'll come to us eventually. But not yet. So please, act cool, okay?" Leia insisted, Han agreed.

~

Luke walked into his room and Din came close to him encircling his waist from behind, leaning forward as he started kissing Luke's neck. Luke felt how his hair stood at ends, the electricity this boy could bring through his body was insane.

"Din..." He sighed softly touching Din's hands "The door's still open." He scolded him in a sweet voice. He turned around facing Din.

They moved inside the bedroom not breaking the embrace. Din closed the door by pushing it with his left foot. Luke giggled when Din pressed a kiss on his cheek. "You promised me cuddling, Din."

Din chuckled and kissed him, their mouths savouring each other. When Din pulled away, he closed his eyes and frowned licking his upper lip "Hmmm, you taste like chocolate."

Luke laughed tossing his head, hands resting on Din's chest "Must be the m&m's I stole from Leia." He grimaced all of sudden.

Din looked worried "What is it?"

"Leia. She totally knows about us." His hands playing with the hem of Din's t-shirt. "Or she's suspecting, I'm not sure."

Din shrugged stroking Luke's hips with his thumbs "Talk to her."

"Would you talk about us with your mom?" He asked quirking an eyebrow.

Din didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Luke said huffing.

"Hey, it's not the same, Leia's your twin, you are so close, it's not... It's not the same." Din tried to explain it.

"But Din, what do you want me to say? Hey Lei, I've been making out with a guy for weeks and I hid it from you?" Din's hands tensed up against him. Luke blinked staring at his face.

"That's not what is going on here." Din sounded downhearted and Luke felt a cold wave overtaking him.

"Din?"

"That's what you think about us?" Luke was looking into his eyes, almost scared of making a move. "I thought..." Din pulled away completely, taking two steps back "I thought we were dating."

Luke's mouth hung open, eye's glistening "We are?" He asked genuinely. Din pouted looking away from him. "Oh! We are!" The blonde exclaimed moving his hands frantically trying to get Din's attention.

Din walked towards the bed and sat onto it. He rubbed his hands against his face, Luke followed him, sitting next to the boy. "Sorry Din." He said taking Din's hand in his own. "This is, uh, to good to be true, I guess I was trying to not get my hopes up, please, don't be mad."

Din sighed staring at the ceiling "I'm not mad at you." He looked at Luke's face again "Gosh look at you." He reached out a hand to caress his cheek. "I'm mad about this." He looked around "Of course you don't think we're dating, I'm not taking you out on dates." He said with sadness in his eyes. "We're always here, hidden, I didn't even take you to my place, not even once. It's on me. It's on me..."

Luke chuckled "Oh no, Din..."

"I want to go out with you, Luke. Take you to the movies, to play minigolf or bowling, to buy you a milkshake, or just chilling watching the sunset together."

Luke smiled tenderly, kissing him. He thought that Din was the cutest thing in the whole wide world. "We can do that, all of that, Din." He whispered closing his eyes.

Din frowned "No, you don't understand, if we go to the movies, I want to walk into the theater holding your hand, if we're walking down the street I wanna hold your hand."

Luke felt his heart racing inside his chest, he caressed Din's face as he smiled "Are you quoting The Beatles, sweetheart?"

That earned him a chuckle from Din "Boy, I didn't notice." He blinked "Now that I think about it, I didn't... I didn't really understand the lyrics till now." He caressed Luke's chest in the softest way.

"Stop it Din, you are killing me." Luke knew that Din could feel the way he was slightly shaking against him.

"Yeah, I wanna hold your hand and kiss you all over that pretty face, Skywalker." He said brushing his lips against Luke's ear. They both collapsed onto the mattress, their kiss was desperate and Luke's head was spinning.

Din's touch was soft and Luke opened his shirt inviting him to kiss his bare chest, Din pulled away staring at him, he smirked sighing before pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his collarbone and sucking on the soft skin.

Luke's fingers found Din's hair, desperately stroking his dark brown locks.

~

Din grabbed a Coke and closed the fridge door. A man was standing by the kitchen's door, staring at him with piercing eyes.

Din's fingers loosened the grip around the Coca Cola can. It hit the floor.

The man didn't flinch, Din felt his blood going iced.

The man started walking towards him, his eyes going up and down his entire body.

Din looked down assessing his own state. He was wearing a pair of black shorts, his white t-shirt was wrinkled, he was barefoot and he knew his hair was tousled. A perfect mess.

"For fuck's sake!" The man said staring at his face. "Aren't you that Don kid? Luke's friend?"

Din felt his mouth going dry fast, he couldn't say a word.

He nodded instead.

"What are you doing at these hours in my house, runt?" The old man asked kicking the can, both hands resting on his hips.

Din didn't know what to say. He thought about Leia, but he knew that he would get her in trouble by saying that he was visiting her. He looked around.

"Fuck, kid! At least look at my face!" The man was menacingly towering over him. Tall and imponent.

Din looked at him reluctantly, swallowing hard. "Sir, I'm sorry, sir. I'm..." He was nervous. "Luke and I were playing video games." He closed his eyes knowing that the old man wouldn't buy it.

"Dammit kid, look at you!" The man rested his hands on the counter, leaning forward, encasing Din's form. "You touched my son, didn't you?"

Din's eyes gone wide.

"You touched my kid." He repeated sighing "I promise you, if you didn't wrap it up I'll kick your ass."

"Sir?"

"Did you use a condom?"

Din's heart skipped a beat, he could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.

"Dad!"

Both, Din and the old man, moved their heads to look at Luke, Din sighed in relief when he saw the blonde boy appearing from behind his father.

"Dad, what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date." Luke asked him trying to change the subject.

"She wasn't my type, I guess." He looked at Din and then turned around to face his son "Listen Luke, I always knew that this moment was coming, but I'm not comfortable with the fact that you're doing it under my roof."

"Dad?" Luke asked in a soft voice.

Anakin, his father, closed the distance between them, caressing his hair "Luke, I'm not mad, it's just, I didn't expect finding a half naked boy in my damn kitchen."

Luke shrugged "I don't know what you're talking about, Din's my friend." He looked at Din quickly, Din nodded, reassuring him. "We were just watching movies." Din closed his eyes, shaking his head, jaw clenching.

Uh-oh!

Anakin smirked "I bet you were." He stroked Luke's cheek "Look son, people... People won't understand." He said with sadness in his eyes. "I just want you to be aware of that." He turned his head looking at Din and then back at Luke again "Promise me you're going to be careful."

Luke tilted his head, tears running down his cheeks "Dad?" He managed to said, his voice almost breaking.

"It's okay sunshine, it's okay." He brushed his thumb over Luke's tears. "Please, be careful."

"Aren't you mad?" He sobbed "I mean... Aren't you mad at me?"

"Oh baby." Anakin held him with steady arms "I always knew." He pulled away staring into his blue eyes "Besides, I did a lot of crazy shit back in the sixties, then I met your mother."

Anakin was walking away, leaving the kitchen "I'm crashing at your uncle Ben's house, I'll see you tomorrow." He chuckled, taking something out from his wallet. "Here." He said pressing it against Luke's hand. "Wrap it up."

"Fuck, dad!" Luke yelled holding the condom his father gave him, still wiping his tears away.

Luke looked back at Din who was still frozen by the fridge. He ran towards him, hugging Din desperately. "Din, I'm sorry." Then he bursted into tears.

Din held him tight "No, no, it's okay, it's okay Luke, please don't cry." He petted his blonde hair shushing him, rocking him back and forth.

Luke rested his face against Din's shoulder, he drew in a sharp inhale "Dad knew all this time." Din nodded. "He knew it and I was so scared to tell him."

Din rubbed circles on his back with both hands.

Luke's started to hiccup between sobs "Dad told me it's okay... It's okay." He said frowning confused with a pain in his chest. "That it is okay."

~

Din was holding Luke from behind, both lying on the blonde's bed, Din kissed his shoulder, whispering sweet words.

"I can't believe my dad told you all those things." Luke said staring at his posters on the wall. Dim light surrounding them, like a soft curtain.

"He cares about you." Din said, Luke turned around, looking at Din's eyes.

"He thought that we were having..." He hid his face in Din's chest thinking of his father's words and the condom he gave him. "I'm not ready, you know?"

Din was running his hands down Luke's back "Well, my hair was a mess and he jumped to conclusions, can't blame him." He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not ready either."

Luke pulled back staring at his face "Would you wait for me?"

"Would you?" He answered with another question kissing Luke's eyelids "Luke, we're discovering this together, don't you ever forget that."

Luke leaned forward kissing his chest "You're amazing, Din." He said between kisses.

Din whimpered pulling his hair tenderly. "Babe." He held him tight. "I'm taking you to the drive-in theater tomorrow, Luke. It's a date." He whispered, his fingers playing with Luke's locks.

Luke squirmed against him. They both chuckled. Legs tangled and hearts full of hope.

[badgirlcovenrep]

atlas

Alex Chen × Steph Gingrich fluffy comfort one-shot

(I was talking to a friend about the game and we were discussing how Alex is probably still carrying a lot of trauma. And even after everything that happened at the mines we still don't see her really grieve for the whole situation and herself. So- I had to write it, you know?)

Enjoy!

TW: mentions of suicide, death and mental health issues.

It's two months into their relationship now, and they are somewhere in a Californian town, living in a tiny apartment close to the beach. They play together in small venues and underground clubs. Alex bartends and Steph referees for DND campaigns at a nerd bar they found by chance on their first week there.

They're happy. As happy as Alex remembers being since she was- well, maybe nine.

Every day, it's a little like waking up into a dream. Living in an apartment with her first girlfriend, listening to music as they cooked dinner together. Getting to kiss her just because Alex felt like it. Because her heart went a little loopy inside her chest when she smiled. Because she knew Steph would hold on to her waist and make her feel like she was full of electricity.

The 'falling in love' business felt overrated before Steph.

But Being in the middle of it now, Alex doesn't think there's anything better.

Although a part of her still felt quite numb - she guesses it's not something that will go away that easily - and day by day, Alex felt a little bit more like she could breathe... like she was finally letting herself go, at least a little bit.

****

Now that she could comprehend and use her powers, it also seemed as if she'd started to become even more of a magnet for all sorts of emotion around her. And apparently Alex could do it in her sleep too.

The nightmares came in clusters most of the time, a badly cut-together mess of voices and feelings. The lady that lived under them, who lost her son when he was little. The couple from down the street, who were going through a hard time in their relationship. Even the little girl from upstairs, who had terrible night terrors of sharp-teethed monsters reaching from under her bed.

They all mixed inside her head until she woke up gasping for air and sizzling with emotion.

It was rare that she'd have a full dream, one that made sense and completed itself, but when she did they were always about Gabe. About sitting together at the rooftop of the Lantern and sharing a beer. Or climbing trees, like they used to do when they were little.

It was a relief from the usual doom.

And that dream was supposed to be nothing different. Or at least she thought it wasn't.

****

In it, they were at the ravine. A world of twinkling stars shining above their heads. The Colorado mountains all around them creating a landscape that was just as beautiful as it was bittersweet. Alex could see the log she'd crossed, still standing between her and the tiny outcrop of stone Ethan had been stranded on.

She hadn't dreamed of the ravine since leaving Haven Springs, but while she was there, Alex dreamt of it every night. She would see it when her eyes were closed. She could hear it, - the sirens, the terrible, deafening rumble of the ground splitting beneath them. The panic, pounding into her ears.

But this is different. Because when she looks around, Alex realizes she's standing over the elevated plateau, tied to the waist and leaning all her weight against a sturdy piece of rock.

Looking at her from below is Gabe. Lying on the cold ground. A cheesy smile spread across his face.

"Why are we switched?" Alex asks because that's all she can think of asking, as she stares at the rope that anchored her to the ground... to Gabe.

"Beats me. This is all your brain, not mine." He says, and Alex huffs in annoyance, "you know what's going to happen, but you keep coming here."

"I don't have a choice."

"Hmmm..." Gabe hums, but there's some humor in his expression as he stares intently back at her, "and that's exactly why... I'm here because I should say goodbye."

A coldness spreads over Alex's limbs. Around her, the very fabric of the dream dims into darkness as a strong breeze blows past them. She suddenly feels like throwing up.

"What- what does that mean?" It's a stupid question. This is her dream. Alex knows what it means.

Deep down, she knew she'd been conjuring him up for her own sake. Trying to bring back any morsel of relief into the giant hole he'd left inside her heart. However, Alex also knew at some point he'd be gone- she just didn't expect-

"You don't need me anymore, Alex." He says. As if it's that simple. As if she'd ever-

"I'll always need you, Gabe. Of course I need you." The words stumble out of her mouth, and she can feel the hot, angry tears falling down her face.

It feels like a hot iron pressed to the very top of her chest.

Like lava, boiling up into her bloodstream until Alex wants to punch something. The steam that prickles from under her skin, fighting to break free.

Anger always comes first when people feel cornered. It's something she noticed a while back. Out of all the emotions Alex had dealt with the past few months, that, at least, hadn't changed.

"Shit, Gabe. When you died I needed you more than ever."

"But we can't fix that, can we?" He asks, and another wave of anger rips through her. She looks anywhere but him, because Alex feels that if she does, she'll tackle and kill him all over again. But when he says nothing and they're left in the same pocket of silence - the one right before the whole world collapsed - her eyes eventually fall back to her brother. Tied to her and laid on the ground beneath. Looking at her like just as much the goofy asshole she missed so much.

Anger always felt urgent and fast, like a flash going through her body and leaving everything inside it in disarray. It demanded to be completely felt, but only for the moment it took for Alex to decide it wasn't worth launching the nearest object at a window.

Or trying to kill her dead brother.

"You might have needed Gabe. But you don't need this Gabe anymore, Alex. You can do it on your own now."

The fear and sadness that came after? They were usually much, much worse.

"But this is the only Gabe I have."

Those emotions, when mixed, turned into a horrible harmony that paralyzed her lungs and darkened the sides of her vision. They felt just as urgent as anger, but complacent. A beast staring at her from the very bottom of a pit. Tied to her by the waist and trying to lure her down into the abyss.

And, for Alex, the abyss was as deep as a ventilation shaft for a Colorado mining site.

"No, it's not. You'll always have me, Alex. And you know that." Not in the way that matters. Alex wants to say, but it's so redundant. He's the ghost. He should already know that. "And you have Ryan now, and Eleanor, Riley, Charlotte, Ethan... Steph..." he gives her a cheesy smile in the last name, wiggling his eyebrows back at her teasingly.

"Oh, God, way to ruin the moment." Alex can't help but chuckle a little through her tears. Is she blushing? You can't blame her for blushing, right? God, she feels like Diane.

"Hey. Let me have it. One of my only regrets is that I never got to tease the hell out of Steph for dating my little sister... and for being whipped as hell."

"That would have been so funny."

"I knew she'd get along with you but I guess I didn't expect... that. Shame on me. Should've had more artistic vision."

Alex chuckles as more tears run down her face. It's so bittersweet it hurts from the very inside of herself.

"All jokes aside. I'm glad you have her, and that she has you. She's good. Just make sure you tell her I'll haunt her from the grave if her dumb ass breaks your heart, okay?" Alex nods, and her body starts shaking with strangled sobs. So much emotion she just can't let go of. Because if she does, Alex is afraid there'll be nothing left.

"Hey. Don't cry. You can do this, Alex. You know how to live life now."

"I don't want to lose you again, Gabe."

"You'll never lose me. You'll just have to look a little harder." He smiles up at her, pulling jokingly on the rope, "now play your part - or is it my part? You get it."

And then- too soon. (Same as it was that night.) The sirens blast through the mountains, and somewhere above them, a giant explosion blows her eardrums, and boulders the size of cars come tumbling down the mountain.

She barely has time to blink. Barely has time to breathe one last time. Seen as she's Gabe, when she looks up all she sees is the giant rock, flying towards her, hitting her across the torso so hard, before she knows, she's flying way above the ravine, and one last glimpse of the stars catches hold over the veil of her memory before everything turns black.

****

She wakes up in bed, desperately clawing at the top of her chest as she gasps for air. Her lungs feel like they're made of lead, and all around her, she can feel the weight of the rocks, the explosion, the debris, weighing down her body.

Alex pats across the mattress for Steph, who is not there. Another wave of panic washes over her. So strong her mouth turns dry and her head aches as she tries to breathe in, but her lungs can only handle tiny, torturous gasps of half-breath.

Alex dispels a world of curses towards herself inside. Willing her own body to just calm down. In the bathroom, she can hear Steph singing softly to herself- she must have come home late from the DND tournament. Alex told her she'd swing by, but she'd had a long shift and ended up just passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Alex hadn't had an incident like this in very long. She could control it now. Most times. It wasn't easy, with being on the road and constantly surrounded by people. Sometimes, she still got more than she could bargain. When she walked across a depressed person on the sidewalk, or heard one of their multiple neighbors yelling at each other through the walls, and suddenly she felt as if the world blended out of focus into a tsunami of feeling.

Feeling that wasn't hers but still felt so much like it was.

Steph helped whenever it happened. For a sarcastic punk rock mess, she was surprisingly stable and so very reassuring.

Just the fact that she can hear her voice. That Steph is there in the apartment with her, is enough to calm some of her nerves, and while Alex still can't keep herself from pulling in gasps of air as she tries to hold in any kind of oxygen, she at least has a plan.

Water. Water will make her feel better, right?

Almost as soon as the idea crosses her mind, Alex's half-delirious brain commands her to get up, but her body feels so very heavy. Like she's really been trampled over by a wave of giant boulders. And as soon as her feet touch the ground, her legs give up under the weight, and she falls onto the hard floor with a loud, heavy thud.

The girl's hands fly up to hold her weight against the bed, and thankfully that means she doesn't face plant the ground, but it sends her heart into a neck-breaking pace, and all air Alex'd been able to gather so far escapes her in a single huff until she's hyperventilating again, hot, angry tears running down her face.

You're so weak. You're such a fucking idiot. Of course, you had to go and lose Gabe twice, who the fuck would want to stay with such a mess-

"Alex, are you okay?" Steph's voice comes, as she opens the door to find her girlfriend sitting on the ground, looking like she might pass out from just trying to get her lungs to work, "Alex!"

In a second she's crossed their room and kneeled by her, both hands going up to her cheeks on instinct, smearing away her tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? We've done this before, you can do it." She always gets just a tiny bit of a scared aura around her when Alex gets like this, never for long enough that she can read it, but it's still there, the tiny flutter of fear, "come on, breathe."

Her eyes go up to find Steph's, her strong, glittering green gaze. Alex might be the one with superpowers, but it was Steph who could so easily reach in and soften her edges like it was nothing. It was Steph who could just lean in and hold Alex's hand against her chest, letting her feel the determined rise of her lungs. Strong. Stable. Even Alex couldn't possibly understand how she did that.

How she always made Alex's breathing slowly come to shaky, deep breaths, crawling painfully out of her dry throat, but still better than gasping like a fish. Inside her, Alex feels the furious hurricane of emotion, twisting itself into the bottom of her lungs, taking hold of every bit of her until she felt like she could throw up.

"Wait here, I'll get you water," Steph says, and Alex wants to complain, she doesn't want to be alone, even for a second.

But before she can, Steph has left their bedroom for the kitchen, and Alex feels as if she's stable enough to crawl into bed, so she does so at a glacial pace. She grabs Shu-Shu, holding her close to her chest as she sits and waits for Steph.

She eventually comes back in with a glass full and Alex gulps it down in silence, unsure if whatever dam of emotion that has taken place inside of her will break if she tries to speak. So she sets the glass back and lies her head down on the pillow, facing away from Steph and the rest of the room as she tries to reel herself back in.

She can hear Steph taking off her boots and climbing into bed, one arm winding around her waist as she pulls Alex in closer.

"Was it the lady from upstairs?" Steph asks, eventually, after they sit in a few long minutes of silence.

"No." She replies, and it comes out so strangled, so broken, a few more tears run down her face. Steph pulls her even closer, a tight, steady pressure.

"The couple again? I swear to God I'll call the police on that asshole this time."

"No." Alex says, and she detaches herself from Steph just enough so she can turn around and look at her, "I had a dream about Gabe." Simply saying his name makes her whole body shake. Steph is looking at her so intensely, Alex has to close her eyes, holding on to the fabric of her shirt with all she had not to explode in whatever terrifying, dizzying bomb of emotion she could feel brewing inside herself.

Alex felt so much from other people it overwhelmed her multiple times a day, and even then, it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how much sheer strength it took from her not to let it blow.

It scared her. More than anything.

"He wanted to say goodbye." She says eventually, "it was- I don't know. This- I- this isn't coming from anyone- How do I get rid of it? It's like it's all inside of me and it's taking up so much space and I don't know how to fix it" The words come tumbling out before she can stop them, and she's rambling through tears.

Steph sighs. And Alex can feel the love and sadness mixed together, blowing from her in waves as she holds Alex's chin, bringing her up so they can look at each other.

"Baby..." there are tears in her eyes now, as she pulls her closer until their foreheads are touching, and they are so close Alex can smell her lemongrass shampoo, "This is all yours."

And such simple words shouldn't hit her this fucking hard.

But it all suddenly makes so much sense-

Alex was numb after her dad left. She felt nothing for months. It was one of the most terrifying feelings in the world, a deep and powerful depression that threatened to overtake her at any given point.

Like her whole body was nothing but dead weight and her brain was way too tired to even try and keep up.

Young as she was, Alex guesses she never realized the first time she felt anything at all after that was when she discovered her powers. The day a boy came to the orphanage and he was so angry it blew her across the hallway. Ever since then, everything around her was a cacophony of feeling. Coming from every direction. Every street corner, every store, every park.

Every moment of her life since she was eleven, Alex could only feel for others.

"I- I forgot." She realizes, half surprise and half so much sadness another sob breaks through her throat.

Now it made sense, the anger, the sadness, the fear, a hurricane of emotion so very powerful it made her ears ring.

"I'm scared." She admits. Because for someone who had been so focused on learning how to exist among other people's feelings, Alex had no clue how to handle herself, "what do I do with all of this? How do I fix it?"

"Alex. Look at me." Steph brings her face upwards until they are so close, Alex can see the speckles of blue in her eyes, "Gabe died just four months ago, and you were there to see everything- then you got shot and thrown down God knows how many stories into a dark abyss that you somehow walked out of, but not before also finding out about your dad's tragic death - and I haven't seen you cry, actually cry, for yourself, even once."

"I- I can't, it's too much. I don't know how, Steph." Alex had learned her lesson. She'd seen her life as it was and survived it. Deep down she knew it wasn't her responsibility anymore - that it never was her responsibility, to begin with - to hold herself together for others. She knows.

But old habits die hard, and Alex guesses it'll take a while before she starts feeling it too.

Because right now, it still felt like the world might collapse if she wasn't there to hold it together.

"Just- give it to me. Everything you have, I can carry it for you." Steph says, with such determination, Alex actually believes her, but she takes her eyes away, trying to avoid the bubbling of tears threatening to jump out through her throat "Let it go, please, Alex. I can't watch you carry it alone anymore."

At that moment, Alex glances at her again, and there's so much pain, so much love in her eyes, that inside Alex, the dam finally breaks and she's choking on sobs. Tears start running down her cheeks as Steph leans in and pulls her closer, one arm around her shoulder and one on her hip, squeezing tight in reassurance.

If she didn't know better, Alex would've guessed Steph was the one with the superpowers, with the way she coaxes wave after wave of emotion out of her with nothing but her steady presence and quick, light kisses she leaves on Alex's head and hair as she holds on to her shirt for dear life.

It overwhelmed her more than anything she'd experienced so far, and for what feels like hours, she just sobs as Steph holds her.

She cries for her mom. Dead before her time, trying to hold them together to the very end. She cries for her dad, dying a slow death deep underground, a picture of the two children he'd never see again dangling around his neck. She cries for Gabe, for the time they'd never have, for the time they did have.

Above all, for the first time, Alex cried for herself. For being the last out of all of them. For the little girl that had to love and lose every single one of them in succession.

And in the middle of all of it, like a speckle of golden light hidden under all the darkness, for the first time, she feels that it could all start to feel alright.

[alicemitch09writes]

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

  He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH2

one��//

Warnings | Mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, other chapters include smut 18+

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

creds to @vogueweasley​ for the moodboard<3

The warmth on your skin as George's arm lazily draped over your side, truly was a feeling you could get used to. Shamelessly it was your fourth night in a row you'd spent in his bed, a part of you longed for you to wake up in his arms every morning. George was not a heavy sleeper, easily disrupted by anyone and anything, perhaps the only way he'd ever sleep through the night was when he'd passed out drunk. Having seen just how affectionate he gets after a few too many shots, you were glad you hadn't been at the fire whisky fuelled celebrations. 

Sneaking around with George was much easier at Hogwarts, no cameras, no fame, no interruptions; just kisses and evenings together. Part of the reason you and George had such a good time together in Muggle London was that more often than not, you were just a normal couple, free to kiss and hold each other in front of everyone. He pulled you from bed early that morning to take you on a surprise trip before your training that evening. 

He'd gotten you to wrap up warm and comfy in an attempt to block out the freezing British winter winds. The ten minute walk from your home to the Embankment was full of conversations about all of the gorgeous Christmas displays, you even begged him to let you put up the Christmas tree early in the house, giving in when you looked at him with your puppy dog eyes, "I'm so whipped, aren't I?" he laughed, fingers interlocking with yours as you walked. His eyes trailed across the river before an Idea popped into his head, he nodded towards the London Eye, sat proudly across the river in all of its glory. "What do you say, Princess? Fancy heading up there for a bit?" 

Your eyes were beaming the minute the wheel started spinning. You'd managed to get a pod all to yourselves, a rare opportunity, but one you grasped with two hands, laughing as he picked you up and spun you round and around. "We should run." you spoke softly, hand running through his hair gently as you looked into his eyes. "For you, I would." he murmured, catching your lips for a long kiss, it wasn't quick or fiery, just a deep, long passionate kiss. He took his time with you because he had it, there wasn't any rush here, no chance of being caught or stopped. His kiss said a thousand words about the way he loved you.

Looking out over London's bustling city with your head in George's chest made you realise just how perfect a life with him was. When there were no cameras, no press, no fakery and especially no Cherry in sight, It was easy to feel every beat of his heart, as they synced together beating as one. You were tracing circles on the back of his hand taking in every curve of his knuckles and the beauty of every sporadic freckle. Only you could differentiate the touch of your lover so distinctly, you felt him in the way he curled his fingertips up when he cupped your jaw, or how his arm would wrap around your waist with enough strength that made you feel protected. 

"Where would we go if we ran?" You mumbled softly, your small fingers slotting through the gaps between his own. "Remote Indonesia…" he joked, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'd go anywhere with you, My Love, one day we won't have to run, I Just wish eighteen year old me had enough balls to say he loved you and then we wouldn't be in this mess." you shook your head, pulling his arms around you tighter as you snuggled into his hold, "Don't you dare, George, It's you and me forever, no matter what, right?" he hummed contently, pulling your hand up to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles, trailing kisses up your arm to your neck between every word. "Forever, and ever, and ever, and ever…"

 //

You'd just stumbled your way into your dorm, arm still in a sling after a pretty nasty accident, a bludger to the ribcage never did a girl any good. A box of chocolates lay on your bed, as well as a note. 

Words aren't enough to tell you how sorry I am, I'll make it up to you, I promise . Get well soon, Y/N <3

-G

Locking eyes with George from across the great hall as you sat with your friends and he with his, he was looking at you with pleading, guilty glances. It really wasn't George's fault that the bludger hit you, sure he hit it, but you were on rival teams and that was the danger of the game. If the fact that he was the first at your side when you struck the floor should've made it obvious, but the fact that you were struggling to breathe and you couldn't move much really over shone the moment. 

You were sat in the room of requirement, in front of the roaring fire, staring directly at each other. You were only a month into the relationship and It wasn't awkward, just unfamiliar, he wasn't sure if he could touch you or hold you, let alone kiss the pain away. Instead he settled for holding your hand, thumb brushing over the back of it comfortably. 

"You need to stop blaming yourself George," 

"But I hurt you, and I-" 

"Shh, baby, the massive Iron ball hurt me… It’s all part of the game." You had now leant forward to crawl onto your knees, kneeling before him, you pressed your lips to his, making him forget about his bewitching thoughts, now only focused on you. 

"I'm going to protect you." George stated so matter-of-factly, that it made you recoil slightly. It was tough words from a 16 year old. He caught your expression, "I'm serious. It's going to be me and you, Forever." You were blushing, he made you feel like the only girl in the world. 

"No matter what?" You questioned. 

"Forever, no matter what."

//

After your impromptu date, George made his way to the shop and you went back to his to grab your phone, and get ready for practice. You'd left it there, the time away from the pinging and buzzing from Cherry's latest update

 or her next best opportunity. You were unsurprised by the 30 odd messages from your Publicist rambling on, but one stuck out like a sore thumb. Fred. 'shit' you thought, 'I've gone and missed something.' hesitantly opening the message to see just one message. 

>> are you gonna head by the shop today? No worries if not, I know you're busy x

<< I’ll try and pop in before practice, if not… coffee tomorrow? :)

You contemplated how your reply sounded while you stripped from your clothes to pull on your branded activewear, a picture caught your eye, the Gryffindor quidditch team, captained by Oliver Wood in Harry’s first year. They all looked so young and eager to get out onto the field. A devilish idea crept into your mind and you found yourself rooting through George’s drawers, finding exactly what you had set out for. You pulled on the old Gryffindor quidditch sweater, observing yourself in the mirror, It was odd to see yourself in the deep maroon and orange after years of donning the silver and green. You picked up your phone, sending George a quick text. 

<< Meet me down the alley by B&B… I need to show you something. I’ll be 5 x

>> I won’t ask ;) x

You wrapped your coat around your shoulders, slinging your duffel over your arm before grabbing your wand, apperating just up Knockturn Alley. you checked over your shoulder, hoping not to be caught, you passed Bourgin and Burkes, spotting the boy with fiery red hair standing down the secluded alley. 

“What did you need to show me then, trouble?” he joked leaning against the wall, steam billowing from his lips from the bitter cold. You smirked, unzipping your coat to show him the knitted sweater. “Is that-” you cut him off with a nod, fingertips reaching to zip your jacket back up, but his strong hands catch your wrists, pinning you against the wall. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.” he was half joking, smirking down at you as you rolled your eyes. He caught your lips in a hurried kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to cup the side of your face. 

Even with your eyes closed you noticed the bright flash, a flash you knew all too well. You’d been caught. Thinking quickly on your toes, you put on your signature giggle, pushing George’s chest away while whispering a soft ‘play along’, as your eyes caught his, you bat your eyelashes. “Freddie, stop it will you?” he tried his hardest not to laugh, as he backed up holding his hands up in defeat. “I can’t hold my girl from her practice any longer.” the small group of paparazzi were begging for another kiss, or at least more interaction, you dragged George away from the scene, “show’s over I’m afraid folks!” the cameras continued to rapidly flash as you  quickly apperated him away from the scene to his office. 

“That’s gonna be the front page tomorrow,” you sighed as you slumped into his desk chair, throwing your bag to the floor, “Cheryl is going to murder me in broad daylight,” He was gently rubbing your shoulder, before he leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll fix it, baby.” he reassured you, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Forever.” the word that quickly became your ‘I love you’. You stood and pulled off the jumper, as well as your jacket, handing him back what was his. “Make sure to take it home will you? We can have some fun later with it,” you smirked, picking up your bag and sending him a wink before apperating to practice. 

Cherry’s deep red car was outside of the stadium, you dreaded the conversation that was about to happen, contemplating just bolting out of there. ‘Better to face her head on than piss her off’ you thought, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down before opening up the door and climbing into the passenger seat with a smile. “You should’ve said you were swinging by and I would’ve showered, I feel bad stinking up your car!” you joked, trying your best to sound surprised by her visit as you pulled your duffel onto your lap. 

“Good news, You’ll be the front cover of the prophet tomorrow.” you gasped, a smile on your lips, “I am?” she laughed, tapping away on her phone, pulling up a picture, “Yeah it’s you and Fred… locking lips. Care to explain what happened to the ‘no kissing’ rule” You took the phone thrust into your face by your publicist, looking at the picture snapped just a few hours prior. You had to admit George did look pretty sexy in the position he was caught in, you looked over at her with pleading eyes. “I’d love to congratulate you, but that’s not Fred you’re kissing, is it?”

You cocked your eyebrow at her, “Who else would it be? Of course it’s Freddi- wait you don’t think that’s George do you?” you laughed, pressing your lips together, to stop the full laugh erupting. “Don’t let Fred hear you say that, he gets funny about people mistaking him for George, you know.” she looked back at you blankly, clearly unappreciative of your laughter. “Come on Cherry, what reason would I have to be kissing George?” you tried to think of a reason around the ‘no kissing rule’ “The only reason I don’t like kissing Fred at events is because I don’t want it to seem fake, I’m obviously not adverse to kissing him, I just like to do it in private, He is an attractive man after all.”  Cheryl was now squinting at you, she sighed however, pulling her phone back out of your hands. 

“You’re right, why would It be George?” she adds, pulling the car out of it’s parking space, “Here, I’ll drop you home, you need a shower desperately.” you laughed pulling out your phone, seeing a text from both of the twins. 

>> Let me know when you’re on your way home, I’ll stick the shower on for us ;) x

>> Coffee tomorrow it is! :) 

When you jump out of the car, Cherry rolls down her window, to speak to you. “I want a nice kiss like that for the product launch.” you go to protest but she cuts you off. “Make it happen.” and with that she was away in the wind.

Today was a close call, almost too close for comfort. You and George needed to be more careful, and harder yet, you had to keep that copy of the Daily Prophet out of Fred’s eyeshot. 

// TO BE CONTINUED // Chapter Three >>>>>

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH65

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 65: The Queen’s Inheritance (IV)

Amid the dragon’s roar, the temple of cult ceremony began to collapse, but this did not stop the battle between the dragon and the monster. The two creatures in their full forms fought in this temple, and the devastating dragon breath burned around the altar, while the monster’s tentacles clung to the body of the dragon, making it impossible to bite off its tentacles.

The monster summoned by the blood of nearly 100 people couldn't fight Ning Zhou who hadn't shown his magic dragon form yet. However, after the irradiation of that strange eyeball, the monster had evolved strangely, and it had gained the power of the Devil of Power from the empty void, which made it stronger, scarier, and more cruel than before!

Like the magic dragon, it had surpassed the half-field level. Compared to Ning Zhou, who was still suppressing his own strength and avoiding being swallowed up by the origin of destruction, the irrational monster was much more terrible. It indulged itself unscrupulously, as if it were the evil in the world itself.

In the frenzied battle, no one noticed that Qi Leren, unconscious in a pool of blood, was fighting against the bewitching influence.

"Through the evil and filthy world, your soul will reach Utopia.

"There will be no more troubles and disappointments, and your life will be immersed in endless happiness and well-being.

"Demons forget the bloodthirst and desire to kill, human beings forget selfishness and greed, and all life is treated equally in Utopia.

"There will be no more death, because the soul is immortal, and you will have eternal life.

"You will also see your love, in that immortal paradise..."

Qi Leren suddenly woke up.

His body was still numb, but his consciousness woke up.

It seemed to be a whisper or a talking voice, which was still ringing and droning like a set program, but he was awake from the trance-like state.

He had suddenly thought of his lover, who wouldn't be there—a carefree Utopia.

He would only be in hell.

If he hadn’t couldn’t see him and bring him with him, he would have stay here forever, and accept all the torture in the world like self-punishment, until the dead lake water rose over his head. He won't even struggle, just sinks to the bottom quietly.

Qi Leren woke up because he couldn't let Ning Zhou go.

Being paralyzed, he couldn't move, and it was difficult to breathe deeply. Qi Leren choked back the stiff pain, slowly moved his heavy iron hand to his chest, and slowly clenched the item [Prophet's Heart] given to him by the Prophet.

[Prophet’s Heart: A god-level item hand-made by the noble and great Prophet that can make you feel the pleasure of turning into a bird. Holders can summon an archangel to come and fight on their behalf for 3 minutes with a cooling time of 24 hours.]

The battle between the magic dragon and the monster has been heated up, and the eyeball suspended in the air had continuously strengthened the monster’s power, making it quickly recover its damaged limbs, while the magic dragon has gradually liberated his own strength, and had become increasingly violent and crazy dominated by force of destruction. Under the imposing manner of the Destroyer, even such a horrible monster cannot take the upper hand.

The passerby—the initiator of this chaos—had stepped back a little, and retreated to a safe distance.

At this moment, he should be glad he hadn't gotten involved. The strength of this monster itself was about a half-field, and he could cope with it and experience a pleasant battle. However, when the strange eyeball of the master with an unknown field level had begun to interfere with the ceremony, the monster was itself strengthened to a level close to the field level.

Hmm..... Which Devil King was it?

Having entered the Nightmare Game little more than two months ago, the passerby who was confused about the power system and loyalty factions here scratched his hair and prepared to leave after watching the drama.

Although challenging a master made him happy, and he was willing to pay for it with his life, when he came to this world, he found that it was not an end wall but an amazing new world before him. He rekindled the enthusiasm of picking up the tangdao for the first time and couldn't wait to join the new world.

But not now.

The passerby reluctantly glanced at the chaotic scene and left the chaos behind.

The battle between the magic dragon and the monster became more and more fierce, and the temple became a huge colosseum. Under the duel between two monsters like ancient giants, it was as fragile as a sand castle on the beach. The force of destruction flooded Ning Zhou's reason, and the origin’s sin burning in the blood was imprinted in his soul. He suddenly forgot himself, but was immersed in the power of absolute purity and absolute terror. Until...

The twilit light of Heaven appeared in this sinful ceremony.

Qi Leren, who struggled to hold the Prophet's Heart, took a deep breath and activated the item.

In an instant, the power of the Village of Dusk’s holder ran through the boundless space and pierced the blockade of one and a half fields, falling from the sky, dispelling the bewitching power in Qi Leren's mind, and making him wake instantly.

At the same time, the pure power washed away his consciousness. He flew lightly, and his white wings slowly stretched behind him. Behind him was the Kingdom of Heaven reflected in the dusk, flowers, rites and music, angels… Everything was so holy and beautiful and desirable.

In this pure beauty, the demagogic Utopia seemed to be exposed to strong light, revealing its inner ferocious horror. It had never been a pure land on earth, but a world dominated by the Lord of Power. Walking into Utopia was like walking into a hell under high pressure. All of the self was stripped away, leaving only the dead bodies of human beings and demons, and the instructions of the Lord of Power were uniformly executed.

Under the holy light, the gloomy and evil atmosphere in the temple in the lake faded. What was even more amazing was that the dead bodies all over the ground turned into the soil and flowers under the magic of time, and white flowers blossomed from the blood, swaying in the Kingdom of Heaven at dusk like a dream.

The meat monster let out a piercing howl, black blood erupted from its eyes, and the black dragon took this opportunity to maintain its momentum. The flames of destruction erupted from his mouth, burning the struggling monster to ashes.

"...Prophet, what are you doing here again?" In the Village of Dawn, the Lord of Power felt the abnormality in the ceremony and sighed faintly. With her sigh, the huge eyeball suspended over the ceremony, watching everything, slowly rotated and made a sound.

The holy angel who smiled in the clean white flowers stared at her: "Little girl, your hand stretched too far."

The voice was the voice of Qi Leren, but the speaker was not him, but the Prophet in the underground ice palace in the Village of Dusk. Through Qi Leren's body, he warned the Devil of Power who was observing here and tried to intervene.

"Has it? I don't think so. But since you’ve spoken to me in person, let's call it a day. I have another thing left with you, and I will ask for it when I have time." From the huge eyeball, a buzzing inhuman sound echoed in this building.

"I'm waiting for you," said the holy angel.

The eyeball in the void disappeared, and the consciousness attached to Qi Leren left. Before leaving, he said one sentence to him: "The Illusionist is in the Dragon Ant Queen’s royal palace, and my letter is on the way, so I’ll ask this of you and Ning Zhou."

The Prophet's consciousness dissipated, and Qi Leren was still standing on the ground, with white flowers under his feet. The mechanical clock behind him had not finished three turns, so this power that did not belong to him had not disappeared.

He looked up at the magic dragon standing on the altar, and the magic dragon also stared at him. There was no dried blood on his body and claws, no evidence of his fight against evil and his downfall.

There was a lonely longing in the dragon’s eyes, and it was like a gentle sadness.

Ning Zhou understood his own destiny. Just like every powerful person, the process of becoming stronger was the process of constantly moving closer to his own original force. One day, he would forget himself, his love, how much he loved the world, and indulge himself and destroy everything under the influence of this original force.

No matter how hard he tried to restrain himself and convince himself to persist for the person he loves, he couldn’t deceive his own strength. When he had fought with the monster, he had clearly felt that he was falling. This kind of degradation was a kind of pleasure, and he didn't need to make any effort. As long as he emptied his brain, the strength in his blood would emerge continuously, making him stronger and destroying his enemies.

But when the pool of blood turned into a sea of flowers, and his lover stood in front of him in the form of an angel and looked at him, he felt sincere shame and fear for his weak compromise to strength.

He was afraid that one day he would hurt Qi Leren and the world.

"Ning Zhou." Qi Leren went up the stairs and came to the dragon.

Compared to the huge body of the dragon, he was like a pocket-sized toy. If the dragon's foot even patted him gently, he would be crushed into a pile of meat. This size gap even scared Qi Leren, but he still wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt him, insisting that the black dragon in front of him is still Ning Zhou.

The dragon closed its eyes, lowered its head slowly, and put it in front of him.

Just like it did in the lake of fire in Purgatory.

It was willing to bow to its beloved and let him comfort its body and soul with his hands.

"It's all right, it's all right..." Qi Leren murmured. The power borrowed from the Prophet had expired, the reflection of Heaven disappeared, his wings disappeared, and so did the intoxicating power. But his calming power still affected the dragon.

So the dragon gradually calmed down, and the force of destruction receded from his body, and he changed from magic dragon to human.

Qi Leren took his hand and looked at him, but his blue eyes that had always been firm avoided his sight.

This was an obviously weak and hesitant attitude, and Qi Leren certainly knew what it’s cause was. Because Ning Zhou had gotten stuck in that dead end again, the dead end that he almost killed himself because of.

He still couldn't accept a self who was a Devil, and was constantly sinking. Even if he was just doing justice as a Devil, it still caused him pain. Because at the end of this road to power, he was destined to become lost like every powerful person.

This was not something that the human will could contend with.

Qi Leren's heart was full of love that he didn’t know how to express, so he stood on tiptoe and left a comforting kiss on Ning Zhou's lips, tender and touching.

He was willing to burn himself with all his strength, as long as he could make Ning Zhou on the edge of hell feel the warmth of the world.

"I once told you, but now I have to say it again: your force has nothing to do with good and evil, and you have never fallen." Qi Leren clasped Ning Zhou's hand and repeated this sentence again.

Ning Zhou slowly rested his forehead against Qi Leren’s, relaxed his stiff body, and closed his eyes.

He wanted to hold this person tight, because this was his last salvation in the world.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Having to deal with a de-aged s/o... (No. 2)

A/N: Hey guys... I know I haven’t been active on here for over a month now and I’m really, really sorry, but I had a really hard time in my life lately and even though that’s not over yet and surely won’t be for another while I felt so guilty for not uploading anything on here that I decided to at least try to manage to get back to updating somewhat regular and finally get around to answering the many requests in my imbox. For now I decided to make a part two to this because it was one of the few ideas that actually sparked some inspiration in me. I’m really sorry for the rant and I hope you can understand my situation. And now: have fun with some of our best girls ;)

No. 1

Ochaco Uraraka

The day you almost flew away

rip

nah it wasn’t so bad

But first things first

same scenario as last time

You’ve been de-aged by someone and Uraraka has teh option between either taking care of you for a day or you’ll be brought to to your parents or a teacher or something

Best girl doesn’t even hesitate before she says yes 

She loves you so much and you look so so so so cute as a baby!!!!

Heart eyes personified

The only problem is she didn’t really think it trough

The first time Aizawa hands baby you to her she is so excited that she loses control of her quirk and let’s just say it’s a good thing Aizawa had his capture weapon with him, because otherwise

well

you’d be space dust

After that she tries to be more careful

BUT YOU’RE JSUT SO CUTE AND CUDDLY AND THE WAY YOU LOOK AT HER WITH YOU PUPPY EYES!!!

After the third time you almost floated away Momo finally has enough and makes one of these baby leashes for you

So class is spend with 25% learning and 75% percent oggeling at you floating and having the time of your baby life

The class loves you (except for the usual suspect Bakugo)

during lunch-break Uraraka proudly shows you around and the Dekusquad has the time of their life spoiling the shit out of you and getting you to giggle and laugh

After school she decides to take you out in the park and let’s just say getting you out of the tree your leash got caught up in was lesson enough to not let you flaot outside...

but still the two of you have the times of your lifes and she is so in awe with how cute and innocent and amazing you are as a baby

She’d definitly try to make you say her name just so that she could say your first word was her name, but that doesn’t really work out

One time she thinks you’ll finally do it, but instead you just burb making everyone laugh like mad man

at first uraraka is sad but soon she’ll join in

When it’s time to turn in she’ll definitly cuddle with you only to accidentally make you float when she’s already half asleep so she doesn’t release you

Wakes up to grown-up you poking her with the curtain rod

After that she sometimes starts talking about how nice it would be to have an actual mini you running around someday when both of you are grown-up and actual pro-heros...

Momo Yaoyorozu

THIS BEST GIRL WILL BE PREPARED!!!

She takes most things seariously and this is not different

She’ll most definitly accept taking care of you as a challege 

It’s not completely unlikely that when she’s finally a pro-hero that she could be in a situation were she has to know how to handle a baby or toddler

So expect to be seen as a training

but at the same time you’ll be spoilt as hell because she wants to make sure you’ll be the happiest damn baby there ever was

she’ll make one of these baby stap carriages and strap you to her chest

she melts a little bit at the sight of you clutching her top and cuddling closer to her

she’ll make all sorts of toys and baby stuff for you

Everything to be prepared

you start to sniffle?

There, now you have an amazing stuffy and a pacifier 

You seem to become restless and hungry?

Your baby-appropriat food will be ready and perfectly temperated in about a minute.

You do what babies usually do since they’re not adults?

Momo is prepared with Diapers and baby powder and stuff like that

She manages to keep you entertained and silent during class and honestly there’s little difference between this and how class usually is

(Also she’s one of the few who actually keeps in mind that you will be turned back soon and makes notes and everything so that she can explain everything they learned in class to you the next day)

During lunch-break she’ll take you out of your strap-thing and let’s you play with everyone in class she deems safe (that includes everyone except specifically Bakugo, Mineta and Denki, because she wouldn’t hold it above him that he’d accidentally shock you... We don’t have to talk about why Mineta and Bakugo are on that list...)

Denki will try the rest of the day to get to hold you tho and he will end up getting tied to a chair

After school she’ll too take you to her room and play some interlectually stimulating games and have you listen to some mozart

like she knows that there most likely won’t be any short-time effect, but you never know

also, don’t you dare tell anyone, but she has a guilty pleasure in dressing you up in cute little costumes that she made

like a cat-costume, or a little princess, or a little bee...

may or may not make pictures of you in a pg-mini-version of you in her costume that she’ll make her phone background.... who knows

When you become tired and she has to put you to bed she’ll actually dress you in very, very, very baggy clothes so that you won’t rip apart the baby clothes when you grow big again

She now definitly has a different view on taking care of children, she wouldn’t pass up on another opportunity to do so, but that has a lot of time to actually happen

Mina Ashido

THIS BEST ALIEN GIRL IS SO AMAZED 

Like Uraraka she is definitly in awe with how cute and little and baby-like you are

She does have some minor worries tho

She definitly wants to take care of you, but she’s a little bit afraid that you’ll get hurt by her acid

But when you giggle and laugh and try to grap for her as soon as Aizawa presents you to her she’s made her decision to risk it

If anything happens, if you even get the smallest cut or burn, you will be brought to recovery girl 

but spoiler alert! nothing happenes 

Before we get to the usual scenarios, let me just make a few things clear

Mina loves having you sit on her head, holding yourself up by her horns, she’ll definitly tickle you until you’re giggleing like a mad baby and, seeing as even Bakugo won’t hurt a baby (at least not until it really fucked up), she’ll se the rare possibility to prank him and use you as a protection

Bakugo will be seething until you’re turned back and he can have his revenge on her

so back to topic

She’ll probably be the one to just straight up go to Aizawa and ask if she can skip out on the day to take care of you and she’ll definitly teach you how to be a noisy annoying little baby beforehand so that Aizawa will have the choice between not having her and you in class or having a noisy little baby in class

he choses the first option

Mina will thank him, leave the room and you’ll immeditaly stop whining and start giggling

the rest of the time the others are in school will be spend with you on her head and her walking through the city with you

she’ll probably go shopping with you 

in as, she sits you down on a chair in front of the changing rooms and shows you different outfits

the ones that you clap and giggle at get bought the one you’re uninterested in get put back

when it’s time for school to end she’ll go back to the dorms and guilt trip Bakugo into making food for you (and her, but don’t tell bakugo that) 

He swears, he’ll bomb that alien girl away as soon as you’re grown up again

Also you know how people sometimes throw babies up into the air and catch them again sometimes?

Well, Mina has to go for pretty aliens and leaves you in the...good?... care of Denki, Ejiro, Hanta and Bakugo

it takes exactly 4.6 seconds after she left for Denki, Ejiro and Hanta to play Ball with you

In as you are the ball

and they are throwing you from one to the next

Sure, you might love it and have the time of your life, but Bakugo - who somehow finds himself as the most responsible one in a twist of faite - is going up the walls trying to get you without you getting hurt

When Mina get’s back Denki, Ejiro and Hanta are laying on the floor with charred clothes, while Bakugo is holding you like you’re a bomb threatening to explode every second now (how ironic considering who the explody boy is, right?)

He’ll just thrust you into Minas hand and stomp away

After that Mina will take you into her room and get you ready for bed

When you wake up the next day, you’ll definitly remember having to thank Bakugo, but that could become hard when you consider that he’ll be hunting after your girlfriend...

A/N: Who would you like to see next? I’m having some ideas...or would you like something entirely else?

[novelconcepts]

novel, just look at this https://www.instagram.com/p/CMILP2ZAjsw/?igshid=1ve4cwcbiy69y

mayhaps you could use this as a prompt sometime? 👀 (no pressure)

The greatest injustice in the world, Owen Sharma thinks, is in how many women he’s buried. How many loved ones--why are brilliant young women always punished?--he’s laid to rest. How many times he’s looked away for only a second, only to find they’ve slipped through his fingers.

The greatest injustice in the world, Owen thinks, is in how many times he’s stood over the graves of women who should have had so much more time. Women with new recipes untested, new cities left unexplored, new experiences permanently unlived. Rebecca Jessel will never practice law. Hannah Grose will never see Paris. Dani Clayton will never...

Dani will never...

He’s never even there. Maybe that’s the worst part of all--that he’s always just off-camera, always just this side of where he ought to be. At home, when Rebecca drowned; at the manor when his mother passed; looking at his shoes while Hannah...

And now: now, with no warning at all, the phone ringing in the middle of the night. The voice on the other end is almost unrecognizably flat. The voice on the other end, he thinks, will haunt his dreams for years to come.

“Come to Vermont.”

“Jamie?” She sounds wrong. Not simply too calm, not simply too level, but as though all the life has been wrung from her body. As though she’s calling him from another plane altogether, and Owen will later be embarrassed by his first awful thought: She’s dead. She’s calling me from her own grave. It’s Hannah all over again.

But of course nothing ever could be. Nothing could ever match Hannah, the impossibility of her that summer. The impossible, cruel way the universe had of pushing her nearly into his arms before letting that trapdoor fall open beneath his feet. Jamie isn’t dead; Jamie is breathing into the other end of the phone, as though straining to keep herself together. Which can only mean one thing. 

He’s on the first flight. A bag with a few changes of clothes, a passport, a photo he is to this day unable to travel without. The plane juddering beneath him, his legs crammed into the small space, he presses his thumb to the smile beneath the plastic sheet. 

Hannah, I don’t know how to do this again. He’s never quite known how to do it at all, how to be this person--and wasn’t that because of Jamie all along? Jamie, who had found Rebecca’s body and made all the appropriate calls, her expression stony as she’d explained to the police how they’d found her. Jamie, who had answered the phone that night, turning on her heel with eyes that suddenly took up half her face, apologizing as he’d never heard her do before. Jamie, who made arrangements for food and drink while he stood like a puncture wound in blue jeans staring at what was left of his mother’s estate. 

Jamie, who stood beside him in front of a well, looking down even when he hadn’t been able to stomach it any longer. Jamie, always looking down into the face of cold reality. 

He’s never quite where he needs to be when it happens, but Jamie is. Jamie has always been. She is almost unfairly good at it: standing tall, accepting the truth, holding them all up when they shatter. 

And now, here she is: opening the door in cuffed jeans and a rumpled brown flannel shirt. Here she is, a few years older than Paris, looking at him like she’s never seen him before. Like the woman who called was someone else entirely. He thinks he sees a little of his mother in the blank distance of her eyes, and his heart cracks. 

“What happened?”

She turns from him, gesturing for him to come in. The flat, which has every hallmark of home, is surprisingly warm. Surprisingly messy, too--there are clothes on the couch, most of them things he recognizes as Dani’s from the photos they’ve been mailing his way for years. The floor is covered with pots, lemongrass and tiny succulents and a large-leaved plant he doesn’t recognize standing proudly amid clods of dirt, a watering can, several crumpled packs of cigarettes. 

She reaches for one of these now, taps out the final smoke into her palm, crunches the wrapping. “Want one?”

That voice again, that strange timbre--the accent a little less than he remembers, a little ironed-out by nearly fifteen years in this country, though that isn’t what works a shiver up his spine. It’s so flat. It’s so toneless. Jamie has been many things since he’s known her--angry, aggressive, cool, even violent--but never this detached. 

He’s never seen her like this. He’s never thought to worry he ever would. Jamie has aways been the most stable of them, taking up the mantle when even he couldn’t carry it. 

We, he thinks wearily, are the survivors. The witnesses. No one ever talks about what that’s like. 

Untrue. People talk about it. People who do useful things, like attend support groups, or get themselves to therapy. Henry does, sometimes--nursing seltzer, smiling ruefully at Owen over dinner. We think it’s the losing them that hurts the worst, until it happens, he’d said once. It isn’t. It’s the part where you have to keep waking up, dreaming for a split second each morning they’re still here. 

Nearly fifteen years, and there hasn’t been a single morning Owen hasn’t thought absently of calling her up. Not one where he hasn’t thought, Been too long without her voice. Without her laugh. God, that woman’s laugh. 

“Jamie...”

Her head comes up sharply, her eyes flashing--and then, like it was never there, the expression passes. She lights the cigarette with a steady hand, settles herself back on the rug with it clamped between her teeth. There’s soil smudged on her cheek, caked into her hair, and he wonders when last she showered. 

“Jamie, do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t. He knows that. He remembers too well how she’d sat beside him on a sofa in 1987, passed him a bottle of wine in silence. How she’d said simply, covering all bases in two words, “Fuck it.” 

It had been Dani, he remembers, who spoke of it first. Dani, looking paler than normal, looking shaken, saying firmly, “We should do something. We should do something for her.”

“Sit,” Jamie says without looking at him. She’s already getting back into it, he realizes--working her hands carefully back into a terra cotta pot, brushing the soil from spindly roots with loving care. It’s how she looked after Rebecca, brow furrowed, smoking and working in silence. There are problems that can’t be managed, he understands, and the only way someone like Jamie can tolerate that fact is to find new troubles to set right.

“Where is she, Jamie?” She’s not going to like this, he knows. He’d hate it, in her place. Had hated it, whenever someone dared speak Hannah’s name for those first few months. She’s going to hate him for it now.

But someone has to speak. Someone has to throw the line, lest she drift too far to come back. She called. There was a reason for it. 

“Jamie. Where is she?”

She gives him nothing. Jets smoke, taps ash into an empty beer can, keeps her eyes on the work. This isn’t like after Rebecca, he can see--Jamie back then had been hard-edged, furious that she hadn’t gotten to Becca in time, but she’d at least been willing to hold conversation. More than willing. It had seemed to ground her, reflecting on the Peter Quint of it all, on the shame of not being able to help enough, on how to explain it to the kids. 

Now, she sits with her back against the couch, her eyes not tracking the progress of her own hands. Owen, kneeling beside her, feels as though the room is waiting for something. Waiting for a knife to slide into the bubble she’s built, tearing it open to allow all that building water to rush in. 

He changes tack. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Three days,” she says. Her face is scrunched with concentration, her fingers testing something he can’t track in the roots. 

“Have you eaten?”

“’Course,” she says, gesturing recklessly with the cigarette at a stack of pizza boxes, several empty wine bottles, a dozen abandoned mugs. “All the food groups.”

“Slept?” He remembers that was the worst part, sleeping. Before it had all gone wrong, he’d gone to bed each night with a promise: Tomorrow, I’ll tell her. Tomorrow, I’ll finally do it. 

After, he’d stayed up until dawn in the kitchen, kneading dough, testing wilder and wilder concoctions. Jamie would stumble in at three in the morning, still half-asleep, to find him shoving a bowl of batter under her nose. 

Here. Try this. What does it need?

Cinnamon, she’d say gamely, though she’d clearly only been craving a glass of water. He’d slump against the table, head hanging between his arms.

She’d say it was divine as-is. 

Yeah, well. She always did like to see that idiot grin. 

“Jamie,” he says now, patiently. “Have you slept?”

She shrugs. He doesn’t need to walk down the hall to know the bed is likely sitting untouched, perfectly made--or, worse, exactly as she’d rolled out of it the last time. Exactly how she’d left it, when whatever had gone wrong had happened. 

It’s so easy, leaving things. 

It’s nearly impossible, setting them right again when the bigger problem can’t be fixed.

“Where is she, Jamie?” He hates himself. Hates pushing her. Hates the way her shoulders square a little tighter, her jaw clenching, her muddy fingers stretching to find an unopened pack of cigarettes to replace the one burned to nearly nothing between her lips. “Jamie. You called me.”

“Wouldn’t have,” she grumbles, “if I’d thought you’d talk this fucking much.”

Not true. He can see it in her, the shade not of the woman she’d been when they had met--hardy, rugged, a little grin around her mouth that said she’d make him regret it if he even considered pulling on her strings--but the one Dani had loved into being. We are all, he thinks, shaped by the love they give. Changes the molecules. Turns us from dough to something worth serving. 

The woman he’d met, tempered by a past she never discussed, patience she couldn't quite get a handle on, wouldn’t want him to talk this much.

The woman she is now, the one who had sat in his restaurant watching Dani like she was written in the only language worth knowing, called for a reason.

“Jamie.”

“Stop.” She closes her eyes. Her hands are shaking too hard to work out another cigarette, too hard to urge the Bic to light. 

“Where,” he asks gently. She’s shaking her head. When did so much silver slip into her hair? When did those lines crop up around her mouth? How long has it been, since he was where she needed him to be?

Didn’t need me. Not then. Had everything she needed, with Dani, but now--

“Jamie, where--”

“She’s gone.” Her eyes are blazing, her lips trembling. He has never, never seen this look on her face. This shattered, almost exultant misery is impossible to endure. She doesn’t look like Jamie now. She is only a collection of her worst fears made real. “She’s gone, Owen. She’s--”

She hunches into herself, a single crack splitting like a windscreen beneath a thrown rock. One foot lashes out sharply, sending a pot cartwheeling over onto its side. 

“She’s fucking gone,” she repeats in a voice like a woman kicked in the stomach. She raises her eyes, red-rimmed, and almost smiles. “I fell asleep.”

Strange, he thinks as he shuffles across the rug to wrap his arms around her, the last thought that kicks out when they’re gone. Not I should have told her, not I should have been there, but: I was in the kitchen. Not I should have stopped her, not I should have been faster, but: I fell asleep. The should doesn’t matter anymore, once they’re gone. All that matters is what you did. Where you were. What you can never change. 

“I fell asleep,” she repeats, and there’s nothing flat about her voice now. Even speaking of Rebecca, the Wingraves, Hannah, she’s never sounded half this shattered. “I fell asleep, Owen. I fell--”

He’s pressing his face against her shoulder, feeling unforgivably enormous draped this way over her slight frame. She folds double, rocking back and forth, one hand digging so hard into the other arm that he’ll be gently patching bloody gouges in an hour’s time. For now, he only sways with her, allowing the momentum of her grief to rock him back and forth, back and forth.

“She’s gone,” she says again. “She’s gone. She’s--”

He’ll stay a while--not quite feeling secure leaving her on her own, not quite willing to risk letting her slide back into this space. He’ll stay, helping her in the kitchen (She was better at it. Less likely to poison us, anyway.), and with the nightmare of making those phone calls (Her mum needs to know. Hated me, but still. And Judy O’Mara. And Henry. Fuck. The kids won’t even...). She won’t let him near the bedroom, won’t let him tuck her into that bed. The one and only time he’ll offer to help sift through Dani’s belongings, she’ll flex a fist around a bottle like she’s thinking of swinging it at him. 

She won’t look at him when he steps into the bathroom to find the tub draining over the side onto the floor, either, the sink full of clean water. When he opens his mouth to question, she’ll reach past him, slap down the plunger, stride out of the room without a word. 

Leave her whatever rituals she needs, he’ll think, remembering all those unnecessary three-a.m. cakes. Leave her whatever ghosts she can’t let go. 

He’ll stay as long as she needs, he decides with her beginning to sob at last. He’s never quite been there, when it happens--never been able to look death in the eye as Jamie has. It’s the greatest injustice in the world, how many loved ones have gone on without him, leaving only stories in their wake. 

He’s never where he needs to be, to stop it happening--but he can be here. For a little while, at least. He can hold her, and he can look down. 

There is no justice, this time, in letting Jamie believe she needs to be strong enough to do it alone.

[quicksilversquared]

Move to Safety

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father's office, he's sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

Adrien didn't know what he was going to do. He paced, he grabbed at his hair, he made a couple stabs at making plans to run away but found big, gaping holes in his plans almost immediately when he actually managed to take a half-step back and look at them again.

His father was Hawkmoth, and Adrien Was Not Dealing.

"I can't sleep here, what if he finds out about me?" Adrien asked frantically for the twenty-fifth time, carding his fingers through his hair. "Or what if he already knows? What if he suspects something and decides to put up a camera on my window? What if-"

"Okay, first of all, I do check for things like cameras and hidden microphones all the time," Plagg said loudly, cutting through Adrien's panicked fog for the first time in- well, for the first time in however many minutes it had been that Adrien had been freaking out. "There aren't any over here or any even pointed in this direction, which is a bit odd considering how often you sneak out but maybe it's because people can't really sneak in this way. Second of all- can't you move out? You were planning on doing that when you went to university anyway, right?"

Adrien nodded, then shook his head. "I'm too young to move out yet, I still have a few months before I'll even be able to sign a lease. And if I move out right away- then he'll know that something is up. It's better not to arouse any suspicions, but I don't want to be close enough for him to get any suspicions about me."

"He's had years to get suspicious about you, though," Plagg countered. "It's not like you just started being Chat Noir."

"Yeah, well, I've had years to get suspicious about him, too, and look at where we are now!"

Plagg looked. His usually picture-perfect Chosen was a frazzled mess in the middle of his room, hair sticking up oddly from him pulling at it so much. He could see where Adrien had been pacing in the carpet, the little loops scuffed more than the ones around them. Scattered pages of notes from his half-baked plans covered the top of the desk, some things circled and others crossed out (and some circled and then crossed out).

It was a somewhat unsettling picture.

"Okay, so first of all, don't let on that anything is different," Plagg said, because apparently he had to be the cool-headed thinker between the two of them now. "If you do, your father will investigate. Second of all, you have locks on your doors, right? Lock them at night."

Adrien shook his head. "It won't make a difference. Father has the keys to all of the rooms. At best, I could set an alarm so that I would wake up if someone came in, but that would be hard to do without anyone noticing. What if I set it at night, had to go out for a morning akuma attack and forgot about it, and one of the maids tried to come in? Then the alarm would go off and Father would be so confused and annoyed and would investigate and-"

Plagg watched, unimpressed. "I think pigtails is wearing off on you with the over-the-top unrealistic panic scenarios."

"They aren't unrealistic! You've seen what Father is like. Paranoid and controlling and- he's a supervillain, Plagg, it's not unrealistic for him to notice something off in the room and wonder about it and then he would try to lock me down even more while he tries to figure out what's going on and why I have an alarm system set up on the interior doors of my room."

...his Chosen had a good point. So Plagg sighed, floated down to desk level, and actually gave it some more thought.

Tikki would be so proud of him right now.

"Okay, so you'll definitely have to tell Ladybug sooner rather than later," Plagg started, because while the discovery was earth-shattering for Adrien, he still had to think like a superhero. "And then, uh..."

Yeah, so maybe he was coming up a little blank.

"Yeah, that was about as far as I got, too," Adrien said moodily, flopping down in his desk chair and spinning around. "I mean, once I turn eighteen and can rent a place, I could just escape at night and run over there to sleep. As long as I set an alarm every night, I should be able to get back here before anyone notices that I'm gone. And I would only need to buy a mattress to keep over there, at least until I move out for good. And at least I can afford it," he added. "All of the money from my modeling and commercials and all the other stuff that I've done- that's in my account, and no one can take it from me. I made sure that the account was entirely in my name last year, when I started thinking about moving out. Neither Father nor Nathalie can touch the money in there, I made sure of that."

That still left several months between now and then which- well, again, not ideal. Maybe they would defeat his father before then, since they knew where to find him now, but if they didn't...

"Lots of sleepovers with friends, maybe?" Plagg suggested weakly. Adrien laughed, then sighed.

"Yeah, I wish. I think Nino might start to wonder if I showed up at his house every night for three and a half months, though. And his parents might call Father, and I don't want that." Adrien slumped in his chair again, then straightened with a yelp when he caught sight of the time. "Oh! Crud, I'm meant to be going over to Marinette's house today so we can all hang out today. I don't want to be late for that. C'mon, Plagg, let's go!"

  Adrien was undeniably, irrefutably, most definitely feeling off. And it was showing. He had lost the last three games of Mecha Strike to Nino, of all people- and he had lost badly. Thankfully his friends seemed willing enough to write it off to exhaustion from too many photoshoots instead of interrogating him on his distraction, and so Adrien got off scot-free.

That wasn't good if he was so obviously distracted, though. Nathalie would see through his squirrely behavior in an instant. She knew that he didn't have an overly loaded schedule- well, no more loaded than it usually was, at least- and she would be more likely to ask question.

He wondered if she knew about his father. She had to, right? There was no way that she could miss it when she was working in the same room as him day in and day out-

-she was Mayura, wasn't she. The thought hit Adrien like a brick wall, and he swallowed hard, feeling a little ill. His father was his family and Nathalie had been like family and they were the supervillains terrorizing Paris, the ones that he had to fight against almost every other day.

He was going to be sick.

How Adrien made it through the rest of his get-together with his friends, he didn't know. It seemed like time flashed by in an instant and then Nino and Alya were leaving, headed out the door together arm-in-arm and without a care in the world. Adrien was about to follow them- now that he was nearly eighteen, he was actually allowed to walk between Marinette's house and his own instead of having the Gorilla drive him for the few short blocks- when a slender hand slid around his wrist, stopping him before he could get more than a couple steps. Confused, Adrien blinked and turned around to see Marinette staring up at him, concern written across her face.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" Marinette asked, tugging Adrien gently away from the door and letting it close. "You've been off the entire time that you've been here."

Adrien tried for a smile. "It's nothing, just photoshoots-"

"You haven't had a photoshoot in three days, and you were just fine after the last one," Marinette shot back, and belatedly Adrien remembered that oh, right, Marinette had an open invitation to all of his photoshoots and knew when they were. "And if you were tired, you would have passed out on the couch while we were playing games. Instead, you were almost fidgeting out of your skin. And you suddenly got more distracted partway through- you looked like you were about to be sick."

"Start-of-summer cold?" Adrien offered up weakly. Marinette looked even less convinced, brow furrowed with concern as she gazed up at him. All of a sudden, Adrien couldn't do it anymore.

"My father is Hawkmoth," Adrien confessed in a rush, practically collapsing in on himself. "I was passing by his office today and I saw him talking to Noor- to his kwami, and it was a butterfly, and then he pulled off his necktie and was rubbing this brooch underneath it and why would he hide any jewelry if it weren't the Miraculous? And Nathalie knows, she has to, she's in the same office all day and she has to be Mayura and I'm living in the same house as two supervillains and I can't move out for a year without them getting suspicious and what am I meant to do?"

Marinette looked rather as though she had been hit by a truck, she was so surprised. Adrien winced.

...he definitely could have broken the news better. Maybe she wouldn't want to be near him now, because it would be dangerous to be near the son of a supervillain even though he wasn't a supervillain, he was a superhero, and wasn't that ironic? He had to fight against his own father.

That was really, really messed up.

Marinette's expression shifted from startled to confused, and Adrien heard her mumble "But how does he know what-?" before her grip suddenly tightened around his wrist and she turned his hand, just enough to see his ring glinting in the sun. She let a tiny oh, and suddenly Adrien knew without question that somehow she had just figured out his secret identity.

A soft thud behind them caught Adrien's attention next, and both he and Marinette swung around in time to see Mr. Dupain startle, righting his tray before another loaf of bread could fall off. His gaze returned to Adrien as soon as he had ensured that all of the bread was safe, and- okay, apparently Marinette's dad had overheard him.

He hadn't planned on letting people know, let alone this many. Marinette's family was perfectly normal and completely functional and he shouldn't be burdening them with his family's problems. But now Mr. Dupain was setting down his tray to come over and wrap Adrien up in a hug, and when had Marinette started hugging him? Adrien couldn't help but stiffen up in surprise at first, before practically collapsing into the hug.

Adrien hadn't been hugged like this for so long. Two sets of arms wrapped around him, and Marinette's hands were rubbing up and down his back. It was absolute unquestioning acceptance, and Adrien couldn't even manage to be embarrassed about the tears that he could definitely feel starting to leak down his cheeks. Marinette's cheek was pressed against his, and she clearly had no reservations about holding him close.

"Does your father know that you found out about him?" Mr. Dupain asked, pulling back but only enough so that he could see Adrien. "Or doesn't he know?"

"He doesn't know," Adrien said at once. After all, he hadn't lingered much in the atrium once he saw the kwami- Nooroo, Plagg had called him- before making a hasty (and quiet) escape to his room. In fact, he wouldn't be 100% sure of what he had seen if it weren't for the fact that Plagg had seen it, too, and had even zipped back to try to eavesdrop for a bit. "I left right away, and he wasn't facing the door. But I just- I can't believe that I've been sleeping under the same roof as a supervillain. Two supervillains, if you count Nathalie."

"You don't feel safe sleeping there anymore, do you?" Mr. Dupain asked at once. He was frowning. "I know that I wouldn't."

Adrien nodded, burying his face in Marinette's hair and trying not to sound like he was about to cry. He was pretty certain that he wasn't succeeding. Also, he was definitely getting snot all over her hair, and he would have to apologize for that later. "Yeah. I was planning on moving out once I started university, and of course I can get an apartment once I reach my birthday and then just sneak out to sleep there, but I would have to wait for that."

"And it's very possible that your landlord would still reach out to your father," Mr. Dupain said, and Adrien's head flew up in alarm to stare at him in alarm. He had only done a little research on apartments, enough to figure out that he had to legally be an adult to rent without a guardian's signature, but he had a source of income and a savings account of his own and surely that would be enough, right?

Marinette was frowning, too. "But surely if he asked the landlord not to say anything, they wouldn't?"

Her dad shook his head. "Not necessarily. I assume that you would pick something small and relatively cheap, at least for the time being," he said to Adrien, and Adrien nodded in confirmation. He didn't want to spend too much money right away, after all. "Right. Some of those landlords- well, they're not the best, to say the least. They would know that you come from money and they might try to exploit that. It's not legal, and all you would have to do to get them to back off if they were trying to push for more than what's in the lease is report it, but if something like that happens or you forget to pay on time they might go to your father, and once is all you need for him to find out."

Adrien nodded, his heart sinking.

"And frankly- Adrien, you're still a teenager. You're still a kid. You shouldn't have to be spending your money on essentials yet, and I'm not comfortable with letting you do that." Mr. Dupain glanced towards the bakery, where Mrs. Cheng was still working the front counter. "I'd have to discuss it with Sabine, of course, but- Adrien, we do have a guest room that rarely ever gets used."

Adrien's jaw was practically on the floor at the implied offer as soon as it sunk in. "I- I mean, that would be- are you sure?"

Mr. Dupain smiled, clapping Adrien on the shoulder. "You're a kind young man, Adrien. If you don't feel safe at home, we'd be more than happy to help. I will have to tell Sabine about your father, though, to convince her that we're actually helping and not just trying to steal you away from your family. Not that she would be entirely opposed to that, of course."

If it would get him a place to stay at night, that was fine. He would just have to trust that the Dupain-Chengs wouldn't get akumatized before he and Ladybug could take Hawkmoth down. "Of course."

"Good, good." Mr. Dupain gave Adrien's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back and picking up his tray of bread again. "Why don't you two head back upstairs then? If you can stay for dinner, Adrien, then maybe we can discuss how this is all going to work out?"

Adrien nodded obediently, glancing back towards Marinette. He certainly wouldn't mind staying longer- the Dupain-Cheng home was so warm and friendly, so very unlike his own- and he also had a few things that he needed to discuss with Marinette. Namely, the fact that she had figured out that he was Chat Noir.

Somehow.

Adrien's mind was racing as he and Marinette headed back upstairs. He was trying to figure out where to start. Should he try to deny her discovery? Would she even believe him if he tried? Something told him no.

"We're going to have to figure out how to time things so that your father doesn't catch on," Marinette said as she ushered Adrien back upstairs towards their living room. She sent him a sharp look. "Though I suppose that you being able to just slip in and out from your window makes things easier."

...yeah, he wasn't even going to try to deny his secret identity. Marinette hadn't phrased it as a question. She knew.

Adrien sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Ladybug wasn't going to be happy about someone finding out his secret identity, but at least- well, at least they knew Hawkmoth's identity, too, so an end to this whole fight was in sight. Hopefully. "Yeah, it makes things a lot easier. But speaking of that..."

Marinette glanced up at him. "Yes?"

"We really need to talk."

[laequiem]

Mal d’amour - Part 5

/5 times the High King of Elfhame missed his exiled wife + 1 time she had enough.

The package is there, on the front porch, but it clearly was not delivered by the postal service. There is no address, just a name: her name in elegant cursive letters. The same handwriting that is on the note she keeps on her nightstand.

Cardan’s.

read on ao3 • masterlist • part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4 • last part

Cardan

It was already dark when I woke up from my dream and gave the package to Liliver. Due to mortals’ strange habit of living during the day, we have to wait the entire night before one of the spies can deliver the package. 

Needless to say, I do not pay much attention to the various meetings and meals I attend during the night. I doubt courtiers notice, given my usual blasé attitude. 

My participation in today’s revel consists mostly of drinking wine and asking the servants for more wine. Whenever someone approaches me for requests or conversation, I reply so shortly that they leave quickly. Nearing sunrise, the Ghost approaches and tells me the package is on its way.

I try to look like I am at least enjoying the revel in front of me. My tail is curled around my calf to prevent it from lashing wildly and betraying my nervousness. My fingers drum absentmindedly on the armrests of the throne as I stare distantly at nothing.

I only last half an hour after the Ghost’s appearance before I retreat from the throne room. 

The Bomb

The air of Portland, Maine stinks of iron and gasoline. Nothing like the mossy and flowery scent of Elfhame. Liliver lifts her scarf over her glamoured face, hoping the fabric will filter some of the iron out. It doesn't work, not really, but at least she will not be staying here for long.

High King Cardan has assigned her the task of delivering a package, as if her talents weren't better used elsewhere. She had agreed, or course—money is money. Plus, she hopes to sneak a glimpse of Jude and assess how her friend is doing. 

Ever since she left, she has been fighting the urge to peek at the contents of the package. It is about the size and weight of a dinner plate and is delicately wrapped in dark green fabric. Seeing how the King hid the thing, it must be quite valuable.

From the rooftop of the building opposite Vivienne Duarte’s apartment, Liliver can see Jude. She is sprawled on an old couch, numbly looking at some square box with moving images. She seems to be the only person in the small house right now—the perfect moment to deliver the package. The High King has made it clear that Jude has to be seen receiving it. Liliver cannot blame him for being careful. 

She makes her way across the street, climbing the stairs as quietly as she can. After placing the box on the floor, she presses the button next to the door and knocks twice. She then jumps to the roof of the adjacent building, making sure she has a good view of the door.

And then she waits.

Jude

Jude groans as she gets up from her spot on the couch for the first time since waking up this morning. Vivi left for work hours ago. Usually, she tells Jude when she is expecting a delivery. Maybe the person rang the wrong doorbell. Still, Jude makes her way to the front door. A peek through the peephole reveals that nobody is on the other side. 

It’s been 30 seconds, they better not have put one of those “sorry we missed you!” notices or else she swears—

The package is there, on the front porch, but it clearly was not delivered by the postal service. There is no address, just a name: her name in elegant cursive letters. The same handwriting that is on the note she keeps on her nightstand. 

Cardan’s.

Her chest tightens and she takes a deep breath. Is this hope or fear? It is her first time hearing from Cardan in more than six months. Part of her hopes that he will revoke her banishment and ask her to come back, but why would he? He is finally free to rule the kingdom by himself and be as cruel and unhinged as he wants to be.

The package looks out of place here, everything from the dried flowers used to decorate it to its delicate grassy smell scream Faerieland.

Jude closes the door behind her as she brings the package inside, certain that someone is out there watching her. She won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her reaction. She shoves the clutter off the coffee table and puts the package on it as she sits on the couch once again.

For a few minutes, she just stares at it, wondering if it isn’t better to just throw it out. 

Like he threw me out, she hears the intrusive thought over the roaring in her head, loud and unwelcome. 

She clenches her jaw, then undoes the strings tying the fabric together. Inside is a nicely carved wooden box topped by a folded piece of paper. She picks up the piece of paper and unfolds it. Her hands are shaking slightly, with fear or rage she does not know. 

When she reads it, however, the rage takes over.

I miss you.

Your devoted servant,

Cardan

Jude crumples the piece of paper in her hand and lets it fall to the floor. She opens the box and immediately sees red. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she screams to herself as she picks up the crown, its jewels sparkling in the artificial light of Vivienne’s apartment.

She has never seen it before. Cardan either found it deep in the vault or he had it made only to send it to her as a sick joke. In a fit of rage, she throws the crown against the wall and storms to her room. 

Her clothes are scattered everywhere, some of them lying on her air mattress for what might have been weeks. She picks out the darkest, most flexible clothes, then reaches under her mattress for Nightfell.

If it’s trouble he’s after, he’ll find her. 

Cardan

“I almost feel bad, Your Majesty,” the Roach says, “pay up.”

I knew trying to sleep was useless, so I headed for the Court of Shadow headquarters instead, where I have been playing cards with the Roach and the Ghost for hours now.

“I hope you’re not cheating,” the Ghost replies, “the punishment could be deadly.”

I lost every single game.

I am not paying enough attention to win.

The cards in my hands are blurry, their numbers and designs utterly meaningless. 

All I can think about is Jude.

Jude, opening my package and packing her things to come back here. 

Jude, opening my package and immediately throwing it out. 

Jude, immediately throwing the package out without looking inside.

This woman has occupied my every thought for years, and I still cannot predict her moves. She is a puzzle, a challenge I want to lose myself in solving. All I can hope for is that she opened it, at least. 

My last letter. My last gift. My last chance.

If this is all the time I had with her, I royally (urgh) fucked up. 

The Roach gathers the jewels from the middle of the table and brings them to his side.

I discard my hand and reach out to shuffle the deck when his attention snaps to the door, to the small form who just entered.

Immediately, I get up and walk to meet the Bomb.

“Did you find her?” I ask

“Yes,” she says, “She picked it up. I could not confirm that she opened it, but she brought it inside.”

“How is she?” I cannot stop the questions from pouring out of me.

“She looks… different,” she frowns.

I understand she is trying to find a way to phrase it without upsetting me. I do not even know what would upset me more, her being happy in the Mortal Realm, or her being miserable. 

“I see,” I sigh, “Thank you.”

The words feel wrong coming from me—yet they seem right in the moment. I do not know if I have ever thanked someone before. But these people, Jude’s spies, have been dealing with me for the last half-year. They have seen me at my lowest. I cannot go much lower than crying after a particularly gruesome nightmare.

I did not tell them this was my last time reaching out to Jude. From the look of pity in the Bomb’s eyes, she knows. I can’t stand it. I walk past her and leave the Court of Shadows.

The hallways are almost empty as I make my way to the cellars. The guards stand straighter as I pass the various rooms, but none of them stop me or try to talk to me. 

When I get to the cellars, I grab the worst bottle I can find. I wish the royal cellars had some really low quality alcohol—a budding brewer’s first try, anything that would taste as bad as I feel—but even the worst of the collection is still good. I drink the whole bottle.

Then another.

I drink until I forget.

Forget the responsibilities, the kingdom resting on my unworthy shoulders.

I try to forget about Jude, but I black out before I can.

[sunnysviolin]

Mafia AU Pt 7

I’m feeling some Aubrey centric content in this Chili’s :O I’ve been thinking about Aubrey’s backstory non stop, and so here it is! I see Aubrey and Mari as sort of parallels to one another in this AU, and that’s how I play with them...this got really long lmao. 

TW: Mafia TW: Death

Aubrey and Mari have very similar origins. Just like Mari’s father fashioned her into the next head, Aubrey’s parents created her for a purpose as well- to be the ultimate hit-woman. They are both mercenaries, guns for hire, but they want more. She grows up being drilled not in multiplication tables, but rifle scopes and different types of poison. She is wrought iron, polished steel that is molded and shaped into the weapon that her parents need for their business. 

At eleven they end training, and they start letting her go on jobs by herself. There are some in their circle that scoff at the petite little girl with a sweet smile and a pretty bow in her hair. Aubrey’s parents send her on exceptionally brutal contracts until those scoffs die a slow painful death. 

Her parents sign a contract, and Aubrey is shipped off. Over and over. Politicians, businessmen, cheating husbands, cheating wives. Her parents point the finger and tell her a name, and Aubrey goes. Once she knows your name, your death is all but assured. Some jobs are interesting, most are just easy hits. 

Aubrey is a black widow, judge, jury, and silent executioner. The top mercenary, A grim reaper brought to life, she is the queen in her parent’s game of chess. Always a piece, but the most valuable piece there is. Aubrey hates all of these terms, she doesn’t even like the word hit-woman. It feels beneath what she does. 

Aubrey classifies herself as an ‘assassin’. Her parents couldn’t care less what role she assigns herself as long as she follows orders and carries out contracts exactly like they raised her to do. 

Mari came into power a year after Aubrey became her parent’s ultimate weapon. She was aware of Aubrey’s parents and their business, her father had contracted with them once or twice before they brought Aubrey in. More than that, Aubrey’s parents are aware of Mari.

They sent a bouquet of white lilies for her wedding along with a fully black business card and a handsome check. She isn’t sure if the lilies were a threat (Mari doesn’t know how they knew her favorite flower) but she cashes the check and buys Hero a handsome watch with it. Then she watches and waits. 

She hears word of a little black widow beginning to weave a web under her parent’s guidance, a young grim reaper who never misses. She hears these stories and sees Aubrey in her mind. A young girl who never had any other options. 

Mari gathers her information slowly and carefully. She tells only Hero of what she’s thinking, of what she wants to do. Her father’s words haunt her as she stares down at the one picture she has of Aubrey. 

Now you’re a perfect legacy. A shiver rolls down Mari’s spine. She calls Aubrey’s parents using the card they gave her two years ago. 

Aubrey is fifteen when she first hears Mari’s name. Her parents have long awaited a call from the young Don, and they’re eager for her business. Mari is known to clean house and take down other groups with a frightening frequency. If they got her to prefer contracting with them, they would make millions. Mari is aware of this, and so she knows she can ask for special treatment. 

Mari starts the call by thanking them for the lilies and telling them of the watch Hero still wears every day. She is nothing if not polite. Then she gets down to business. She wants Aubrey specifically for a job, but she wants conditions. Namely that Aubrey must stay by her side until the hit is carried out. She wants to see the queen piece at work. Aubrey’s parents only hear the dollar amount and send Aubrey off that very night. 

Aubrey is expecting the spartan accommodations she’s gotten used to. She’s even expecting a fight, as some Dons tend to want to see if she’s truly as good as they say. She is greeted by Kel and Sunny, not Aubrey, and brought into the piano room. 

Mari is there, not playing, but lying with her head in Hero’s lap as he reads to her. It’s oddly domestic for a couple that is quickly becoming the leaders of the underworld, and Aubrey is not comfortable with their outward displays of affection. Mari waits until Hero finishes the chapter, and then she sits up finally addressing Aubrey. Aubrey is ready for her marching orders, standing stiff and straight. 

Mari asks what she would like for dinner. That first interaction sets the tone for Aubrey’s entire stay. Mari keeps her by her side for her meetings with her Capos and lets Aubrey watch her wield her power, but she also keeps Aubrey close for piano lessons with Sunny, baking with Hero, movie nights where it is just the five of them in a hidden living room. Aubrey even has an extravagant bedroom, only two doors down from where the strange Don sleeps with her husband. 

It’s frustrating. It’s boring. It’s new, and Aubrey can’t stand it. Yet she finds herself craving their moments of quiet, the affection that Mari is not afraid to lavish her with. Aubrey would have thought it was disingenuous, but Mari is specific about what she compliments. Her eyes shine when she asks Aubrey for her wisdom, and she almost always takes the younger girl’s suggestions. 

The job is over in a month. Aubrey doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. She thinks she might end up missing them, but that was not what she was paid to do. She doesn’t even finish the job before Mari is on the phone hiring her out for another hit. Same terms. If Aubrey is working for her, then Aubrey stays with her. 

This goes on for almost a full year. Aubrey is not always with them, but when she has to do she waits to hear if Mari will contract her again. She grows fond of Sunny, tolerates (and starts to like) Kel, and Hero can manage to wiggle himself into anyone’s heart. But Mari...Mari is the one that Aubrey is fascinated by. Mari who listens to her, cares for her, treats her not as a weapon but as a whole person. 

Then Mari begins to play her own game. The game she has been crafting for three years. Aubrey is just past fifteen years old when she’s called into the piano room. She and Mari are alone, which is strange. A contract is laid on the piano. Mari is playing, not bothering to look up at Aubrey. The song she’s playing is ominous, and Aubrey is on guard. She asks Mari what’s going on, but Mari simply nods towards the contract and continues playing

Aubrey opens the manilla folder. It’s a contract for a no holds barred take out. Aubrey is allowed to do whatever she wants. Be as brutal or as gentle. Any weapon. Any time. Any price. It’s all Aubrey’s choice, but one thing. Mari has chosen the target. 

She chose Aubrey’s own parents. 

Mari does not look up, does not bother to acknowledge Aubrey at all as she reads. She has planned this since she heard of Aubrey’s existence. Aubrey is not a person who could be swayed only with kindness and love. Showing her a true family would be meaningless as long as her loyalties were divided.

Mari could have had her parents taken out for her at any point in her game, but that would take away Aubrey’s choice. Mari has been a young girl who had her choices taken from her. She is going on the assumption that Aubrey feels the way she did about her own life. 

Aubrey reads the contract and a blinding fury overtakes her. She feels used, used by the one person she thought would never use her. She says so, and Mari finally stops playing, turning to face Aubrey with a severe expression. It’s at this moment that Aubrey finally remembers exactly who Mari is.

“The game is near its end. You were your parent’s queen, then my pawn, and now you are on the other side of the board, ready to be remade. You are being given a choice for the very first time in your life. I will not take that from you. Do what you will, when you are ready to come home, your family will be waiting” 

Mari stands to her full height after that, walking out of the room with defined grace. She is barely a few inches taller than Aubrey, so why did Aubrey feel so small? Why were her hands shaking? Why could she not think?

Aubrey leaves the contract on the piano, fleeing from Mari’s house and rushing back to her own. Her parents seem frustrated with her absence, but even more frustrated with the call they just got. Someone has put a price on Mari’s head, far too much money to ignore. 

The contract sits on the piano for two weeks. Mari goes about her business as usual, and at night Hero holds her tightly to him. She spends a normal amount of time with Sunny and Kel, but there’s an air to it that none of them can ignore. Sunny and Kel do not know what occurred, what is still occurring, but they know that Mari is uncharacteristically melancholy. Sunny spends almost all of his time in those fourteen days with his sister. They sit at the piano for hours, playing and watching. The contract sits there. 

The morning of the fourteenth day of Aubrey’s absence, Mari wakes up alone in bed. She comes downstairs and sees Hero making breakfast- a full calentado. He tells her that Aubrey is waiting in the piano room. She goes to the room next to the wide elaborate staircase, standing in the doorway. Aubrey is there, her hair now dyed a shocking pink. The contract is ripped in half at her feet. 

“No more contracts. You said I could name my price. That’s my price.”

Mari pays Aubrey in full with her own family name. She brings her newly minted little sister downstairs for breakfast, reintroducing Aubrey to Sunny and Kel when they walk in the back door. They accept her easily, to them she has been a member of the family since she was given the rare permission to sleep in Hero and Mari’s home. A bedroom she always keeps, the third room. The first is Kel’s, the second Sunny’s. They always knew Mari’s plan. 

That night as Mari curls up in her Hero’s arms, she finally relaxes. For a year she’s been waiting for this, and now their victory is assured. 

Hero presses a kiss into her hair, closing his eyes. Making an anonymous bid on his own wife’s death had felt disgusting, and Hero had fought Mari on it for months. It was too much of a risk, too much trust to put on a girl who wasn’t their family. In the end Mari had been right, and Aubrey had proved herself. 

She had not wavered in her loyalty to Mari. She never would. Two years later when she sat on the counter and watched Mari take Basil’s hands in her own, she knew that their family had gained another member. Basil was given the same exact choice she was, and Aubrey knew what the blonde boy would say before he said it.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Longitudinalwaveme Reviews Some More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 2

Batman #321, “Dreadful Birthday, Dear Joker...!” 

The story opens with Commissioner Gordon receiving an invitation to the Joker’s birthday party. “Black tie optional, funny hats mandatory”. A few seconds later, everyone in police headquarters doubles over laughing, the victims of Joker’s, well, Joker gas. 

Batman is on the scene only a few seconds later, and starts punching out Joker’s goons. Unfortunately, by the time he’s finished doing this, both Joker and Commissioner Gordon have disappeared. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Ah---the Batman! What an expected surprise! And what a waste of a perfectly good window! Couldn’t you have used the door?” 

As Joker leaves in his Jokermobile, the police officers tell Batman that the Joker also captured Robin earlier that day (by pretending to be a woman with car problems!) 

Meanwhile, Selina Kyle, Lucius Fox, and Alfred are talking when the Joker bursts in and kidnaps them as well. Notably, Selina mentions that she’s been having terrible headaches. 

Selina Kyle wakes up in a room with Batman; the other kidnapees wake up in the Joker’s “Ha-Hacienda” on his “victim-go-round”. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Tomorrow is my birthday, and by way of celebration, I intend to eliminate all you who’ve crossed me, while all of Gotham watches! It’s not exactly the catcher’s mitt I really wanted...but it’s a pretty fair second place! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Hawkman stars in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

The Joker murders one of his own henchman with his “BANG!” flag gun for not laughing at his joke. 

Eminently Quotable Joker (in response to Robin saying “You’re out of your mind!”): “Gloriously so! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

In order to get his audience, the Joker put an ad in the newspaper that states that the “Harlequin Baking Company” will be inviting all of Gotham to  sample its wares at the Seaside Coliseum. AND IT WORKS, because everyone in Gotham has the IQ of turnips. A bazillion people come to the Coliseum to get free food. 

Joker dramatically reveals himself to everyone and explains that he’s going to blow up all the people he hates with a giant cake bomb. Then Batman arrives and offers himself in exchange for the other hostages. This goes exactly how you’d expect it to go, but Batman manages Batman his way out of the trap, saving both himself and all of his friends. 

Joker runs away and jumps into a boat. Batman follows him, they fight for a bit, and then the Joker apparently blows himself up. But he’s not dead, because nothing can kill the Joker. Batman even says so. 

This would’ve made a great episode of B:TAS. 

Batman #322, “Chaos--Coming and Going!” 

And now for something completely different! 

Catwoman looks at a bunch of old newspaper clippings of herself, as the comic hints fairly subtly that she might be unwell (just as her headaches last issue did). 

Meanwhile, a van is delivering issues of the tabloid The Gotham Guardian...when a thrown bundle of newspapers is intercepted by a boomerang! Captain Boomerang is in Gotham City! 

The two men in the van react by promptly trying to run Digger over....only for him to slice their van in half with a boomerang!

Digger yells at them to tell their boss that this was only a warning: the mysterious boss owes him a million dollars, and he wants it in 24 hours or else. 

Then Batman shows up out of nowhere and he and Boomerang get into a fight. Digger distracts Batman by using his exploding boomerang to damage a nearby building. This causes some rubble to fall on one of the drivers. Batman goes to rescue him, and Digger vanishes. 

Green Arrow stars in a Hostess fruit pie ad! 

Batman talks to Alfred about Captain Boomerang, telling him to ask Lucius Fox to find out who owns the Guardian, since he’s probably Boomerang’s next target. He also refuses to call the Flash in for help. “The night I can’t handle a punk like Boomerang is the night I hang up my cowl!” 

Catwoman goes to a doctor and it’s confirmed that she is, in fact, dying. She has less than a month to live and the only cure is some Egyptian herbs that have been lost to time. 

Meanwhile, Captain Boomerang lets us know that he hates Gotham. “Lor’, but I hate this cronky town! I never would’ve come her from Central City if it wasn’t for my million quid!” 

Apparently, Captain Boomerang set up a retirment fund for himself and is ticked off that has money was subsequently stolen. 

“It’s really rum--downright ironic! The one time I play the game by their rules--and it’s me who gets taken for a sucker! Well, nobody crosses “Digger” Harkness--and gets away with it intact!” That’s our Digger! 

Also, he has a giant boomerang hidden under a tarp. 

Catwoman goes to the museum to see a display about cats...and conveniently, some ancient Egyptian medicinal herbs are there. Catwoman determines to take them so she can save herself. 

Batman asks the most Irish Irishman to ever walk the pages of the comic book about where he might be able to find Captain Boomerang, but he hasn’t heard anything. Then Alfred calls Batman and tells him that Lucius has discovered that the Gotham Guardian is owned by a corporation which serves as a front for a guy named Gregorian Falstaff. 

The man in question is eating dinner at a hotel when he is rudely interrupted by Captain Boomerang, who knocks out Falstaff’s bodyguard and demands his money. Falstaff plays dumb, claiming that the whole thing was an unfortunate accident and offering to write him a check. Boomerang insists that it’s cash or nothing (since he doesn’t trust Falstaff). Then Batman shows up, and Digger throws a smoke bomb boomerang that distracts Batman long enough for him to knock him out with another boomerang. 

“You gave it a fair dinkum try, cobber-but fair ain’t enough when  you’re dealin’ with the likes of me!’” Didgeridoo! Crikey! Steve Irwin! Can you tell I’m Australian yet? 

Selina Kyle tries to call Bruce but can’t get ahold of him, so she decides to take matters into her own hands and pulls out her Catwoman costume. 

When Batman comes to, he’s been tied to the giant boomerang. 

“Nothin’ permanent, mate--you’re simply tied to my giant rocket-powered boomerang! Only Flash’s super-speed saved him from the original--and without super-powers you’ll never escape this improved version!” So...which one of the giant boomerangs you used to launch the Flash into space are we talking about here, Digger? Because there’ve been at least four at this point. 

Boomerang launches the boomerang into the air and it explodes. Digger is naturally convinced that he’s killed Batman, only for Batman to promptly prove him wrong by showing up alive and well. “Nobody could possibly survive a flight on my Doomerang!” Oh, Digger...

Batman explains that he survived by “maneuvering my bonds toward the Doomerang’s rocket-jets--and the ignition-flames freed me! Then I simply slipped away under the cover of all that smoke before the Doomerang took off!” I love that Batman also calls the thing a Doomerang (with a totally straight face, mind you.) 

Then Digger throws a boomerang at Batman at the same time Batman throws a Batarang at him. But because Batman is Batman, he wins the boomerang duel and knocks Digger out. Way to take away Digger’s only accomplishment there, Batman. It’s like if Superman won any of his races against the Flash. 

Batman decides to investigate Falstaff. 

Meanwhile, at the museum, someone who looks like Catwoman is stealing one of the exhibits....

Flash #286, “The Color Schemes of the Rainbow Raider”

This issue introduces the greatest villain of all time...the dreaded Rainbow Raider! 

After a long day at work, Barry Allen is heading home...only for an alarm to go off at the Centrex Art Museum! Barry has to promptly go into action as the Flash as Barry thinks about how tired he is. Apparently, his new police chief, Darryl Frye, has made him work overtime three times in one week alone. 

Suddenly, a rainbow appears, bewildering Barry, as it hasn’t rained for the past week. Barry runs inside the museum to find the guards crying inexplicably. Barry deduces that the thief has been altering their emotions and realizes that this is probably not one of his established Rogues. 

Sure enough, he soon comes face-to-face with the Rainbow Raider!

“Welcome, Flash! I didn’t think you and I would be meeting so soon...but sooner or later we were bound to clash! Allow me to introduce myself! I am the Rainbow Raider---the most colorful criminal this city’s ever seen!” Oh, Roy. You’re so amazingly silly, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Roy shoots a beam of blue light at Barry, who somehow deduces that this was what enabled him to mess with the emotions of the guards. Barry dodges the blast of blue light, but it hit and knocked out by a blast of black light. 

The police are suitably baffled by the Rainbow Raider, who, incidentally, signed his crime scene with “The Rainbow Raider was here!” That’s amazing. 

Meanwhile, the Flash runs home, for the Rainbow Raider has...uh....sucked all of the color out of his body! Somehow! Wha? 

Meanwhile, in a mobile trailer, Roy is gloating to himself. “Now I know I’m ready for the big leagues--on a par with seasoned criminals like Captain Cold and Mirror Master!” Uh...sure, Roy. 

Batman and Catman star in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

“Roy G. Bivolo is compelled by higher motivations--like art appreciation!” 

Roy reveals that he suffers from achromotopsia, a rare form of colorblindness that means he sees the world entirely in greyscale. This fact apparently scuppered his burgeoning artistic career, because the art critics of Central City have never heard of black-and-white artwork even though it totally exists. 

Also, Roy’s dad was apparently a, quote, “leading world-renowned optometrist”, and he tried to create goggles that would allow Roy to see color. He passed away shortly after Roy turned 21; having finished the googles just days before. 

When Roy tested them a few weeks later, he found that they hadn’t cured his colorblindness...but that they could shoot out “bands of multi-colored solid light particles that I could literally “ride” through the sky”. Roy then uses his father’s notes to unlock even more abilities with his goggles. Eventually, his mother also passed away, and Roy decided to turn to crime. 

“Since I was robbed of a brilliant art career as a painter--I think it’s only fitting that I rob others....rob them of the pleasure they’ve derived all these years from priceless works of art I myself have never been able to enjoy! If I can’t see them in all their glory---then neither will anyone else!” Roy...that’s insane. 

Barry Allen fails in his attempt to flirt with Fiona Webb, then exposits about pseudoscience. “The color black appears black because it absorbs the light waves of all other colors...without reflecting them! Those black beams the Rainbow Raider enveloped me with must’ve had a similar effect--saturating my body with radiation that prevents me from reflecting any and all light-waves...leaving me totally colorless!” SCIENCE! 

Barry uses makeup and hair day to make himself look normal. As a result, he’s 20 minutes late to work and gets chewed out by his boss. 

Also: “The unnatural inner-vibrations from this color drain are steadily sapping more and more energy from my molecules by the minute!” More SCIENCE! 

Barry is about to get to work when he hears about the opening of the Skytop Art Gallery. Assuming that this would be an ideal target for the Rainbow Raider, he goes into action as the Flash. 

Roy has created a distraction by using his emotional manipulation powers to get all of the art patrons to fight each other while he escapes. Barry runs up a building and onto Rainbow Raider’s rainbow...whereupon Raider shoots a blinding light at him, causin him to slip off the rainbow and almost fall to his doom. Luckily, his ability to vibrate through anything saves his life, as he manages to vibrate through a green car he was about to land on. 

Barry then finds that he’s turned totally green. ‘I must’ve been vibrating on the precise wavelength of the color green when I passed through this heap--somehow allowing me to regain my capacity to absorb green light-waves!” SCIENCE! He then starts running through vehicles of other colors to regain his capacity to absorb those light-waves, too. Since Raider is colorblind, he can’t figure out what the Flash is up to. 

When Raider takes one last blast at the Flash, the effects restore him to normal, and Flash is able to make quick work of the Rainbow Raider. 

I love the Rainbow Raider so much.

[thealwriteytrashdump]

Coincidence (a Jeff the killer short story)

The feeling of waking up in the middle of the night is a strange one. The heaviness in your limbs and in your soul. It seems like time has stopped and the world has gone still. Until you hear the faintest wail of a siren in the distance and suddenly the nightly sounds of your city arise. The sudden hum of the AC kicks in and every so often, a helicopter flies to the nearby hospital. Someone speeds by on a motorcycle, revving to their heart’s content as they drive. You looked at the clock, 3 am; not yet time for you to begin your morning but ultimately too late to go back to sleep. The old apartment building creaks with age, and you hear the faint jingle of your recently acquired kitten. She has decided to keep you company as you both lay in a comfortable pile in your sheets. Truth be told, you’ve adopted out of sheer loneliness, the empty silence of your small apartment has driven you slowly mad over the months.

Sure, you had friends and loved ones, but you’ve since isolated yourself in an attempt to be independent. Before you had moved out, you lived with your sister, and while the company was nice, she had bullied you into doing household chores on top of paying a fairly decent size of the rent. Your parents assumed she paid for everything herself and you were living scot-free but that wasn’t the case. Both you and your sister worked very hard to keep your respective lives afloat, she worked hard for her children and was rarely home, hoping you’d be there for her kids when they needed it.. You, however, worked full time as well as went to the local community college to build up credits. After a couple of years of constantly fighting and losing, you had enough and moved away to a different part of town, burning the closest bridge you had for support. Now living in a smaller rundown apartment, working several jobs, and trying to make it through the semester, you lived paycheck to paycheck; making ends meet but not by much. At first, you’ve felt free, you’ve been living like how you wanted to and no one could stop you. For several months, it was your dream come true, you did whatever you want when you wanted. However, slowly but surely, you felt the loneliness creep in; working hard no longer filled you with a sense of purpose, and college work drained you of your motivation. Living the bare minimum began to take its toll on your mental health and your sheer iron will, or perhaps stubbornness, began to tire out.

You hear the soft jingle again and feel the comforting hum of your kitten’s purr. The madness you experienced in the past months drove you to make a rash decision on your part to adopt a kitten from your brother and his spouse. As rash as it was, it was also a decision you’ve yet to regret. As this tiny grey tabby proved, just a small amount of company did wonders for your sanity. Your kitten took some time to adjust to you but has come to love you as her caretaker and companion, and you’ve come to love her as your baby and loved one. Her eyes were a bit bulgy and her head just a tad too small but she was a beautiful kitten with a feisty spirit. Her name was a bit strange, and your family didn’t hesitate to let you know, but she was yours and you had thought her name was perfect. Now that little kitten slept soundly near your inner thigh, purring loudly and kneading your left calf.

You laid very still, looking up at the ceiling and listening to the world around you. The silence simultaneously existed with the noise. The quiet hum of the AC, the excitement of the world beyond but also the barely audible sound of your breathing and your heartbeat. The soft noises of your kitten and the settling of the walls. Noisy and yet not so.

Eventually, the sharp call of your alarm tells you four am has rolled around, and it is time for you to begin the day. You get up slowly so as to not disturb your cat, stretching, and yawning. You walked through the bathroom to the kitchen to turn on the lights and to boil some water for coffee. As the water began to heat and the kettle slowly whistled to life, you decided to take a quick shower. Your first job starts in two hours, with plenty of time to get ready and have a quick bite of breakfast, however, you preferred to be early rather than late. As the sun starts to peek out, you brew yourself a cup of caffeine and gather your backpack. It’s time to set out for the day, you leave extra food out for your little babe, and make your way to the bus.

The day usually passed by uneventfully, the coffee shop you worked at opened at six in the morning and stayed busy until 11 am. You stayed until noon, then caught the metro to your classes. It was just a couple of hours before heading back home to your little kitten to check up and prepare for your second job. As you walked onto the large campus, fellow students came and went as you headed up towards your classes. You heard bits of chatter and gossip,

“Did you hear-”

“-vered with blood-”

“That’s party was si-”

“There were so-”

“-arely slept las-”

“So what-”

Unable to hear full conversations or even full sentences, you passed by absentmindedly. There was something going on about a string of break-ins and robberies, but you paid no mind to it. Of course, you always needed to be careful, even in the safer neighborhoods. Gunshots were always heard every now and then, and there were lots of police around but nothing really happened in your immediate vicinity so you didn’t feel the need to keep your guard up. Still, you were very careful to keep to yourself and to check for any suspicious behavior regarding your person. You head to your first class as the crowds thicken, walking up the stairs to the central courtyard. As you approached the large area, you see in the distance a rather tall building with very large windows. These classrooms were for the English and History classes with some other misc. classes and a fairly large library. Unfortunately, the building was across campus from the Metro station, and mostly out of the way. The large courtyard is filled with hundreds if not thousands of students, you opted to take a roundabout through the large parking garage, most likely full of cars and other modes of transportation. As you round the corner, you bump into someone moving fast and land heavily on the concrete. You yelped in surprise and almost immediately excused yourself. Instead of a response, you hear the sounds of skates or rather a skateboard and look up just in time to see the man, with a dingy white jacket, already on his way without a second thought. Picking yourself up, you huff in annoyance and begin rushing away, muttering obscenities under your breath.

Jogging away, you dusted yourself off and started gathering your homework to turn in as you entered the building, you spotted off in the distance, your professor speaking to some of your classmates. She was delightfully wonderful to students, especially the younger ones who just started college for the very first time. The older woman was tall and very beautiful, she had a powerful presence that intimidated most. She was not afraid to speak her mind, and she was very much sassy to both students and professors alike. Her class was still boring and most of the troubled students disliked her for a number of reasons. While she was kind to the students, she didn’t believe that excused them for slacking off or failing her class. She was open and willing to help those who were failing but there were no favorites in her class. Slipping into the classroom, you sit in an empty spot around the middle area where there were a couple of seats open. Everyone liked to sit up front or near the back, and usually, you’re able to snag a glorious three seats of space in the middle area. Today wasn’t that spacious, but you aren’t complaining as you are seated next to the large nearly spotless window that looked out onto the small park nearby. The very last of the class files in and you begin your first lesson of the day, taking out your notes and doodling little figures.

As the class began, your professor walked in and greeted the class. The first order of business was to remind the class that assignments were due tomorrow and if the paperwork wasn’t in her inbox by the end of the day, she was giving out failing grades and speaking to the offenders personally. You continued doodling little figures and half-listening for important information. Fortunately, you had finished your assignments for your classes a few days ago. You were currently working on assignments due in a week’s time. It was better to be ahead to buffer workload and make it easier for yourself in the long run. Luckily, most of your professors allow you to be proactive in your learning so long as you still took notes and listened to the lectures. It was a great opportunity for you to keep yourself and some of your professors sane for the most part.

Some other students groaned quietly, but you continued to sketch out a face in the corner of your notebook. Your professor finished her speech and turned to start the lesson for the day. An hour dragged by, and a yawn escaped your lips involuntarily. You stare out the window, bored, the trees sway silently as clouds pass overhead. You tap your pencil against your notebook, you have already written down notes and important timestamps and pages for your books. You were confident you would pass the open notes exam next week, and you’ve made it so you had a light schedule that day as well. The day was almost perfect, you thought about getting takeout and treating yourself to some video games. Your jobs had you take a day off so you could focus on your schoolwork, and you were grateful for it. You smiled to yourself and yawned again; it would be a nice time to catch up on sleep as well. Another hour passed by uneventfully, and as class ended, you half jogged to the professor’s desk to turn in some work and to ask for the homework for the week after next week. She squinted at you and sharply said, she only had a rough idea of what the week entailed but she was more than happy to email you some copies when she wrote out the assignments. You nodded and thanked her, wishing her a good day and heading out to the hallway.

The two other classes you have for that day go by slowly as you fight to keep your eyes open. After the last hour of history was over, the plan was to head home for your “second job,” as you call it to your parents. In truth, it was a glorified online data entry job you did for a friend who started a business a while back. It was steady tedious work, but as a friend, you were called into action. It was your first job and the only reason why you were able to move out and start college. The pay was good and your buddy gave you great “benefits” as they were. He just needed some paperwork and bookkeeping done for his clients. While it looked legitimate for tax purposes, he mostly dealt with some particulars who preferred to keep their business and their lives private. It was a decent job, and most of the time, you never dealt with the clients themselves thankfully. It was just simple work done in the safety and privacy of your apartment. As a lower-tier worker bee, you were relatively safe, however, you never really knew if it was ever a guarantee. You never minded, you hadn’t died yet, right?

As the day ended, you spent the five-hour shift working and listening to the news. A tiny cat jingled around at the speed of light; she’d nipped at your toes before speeding off to tackle a chew toy. Working until you hit a wall in terms of motivation, you get up to make some tea, watching some of the news that you played for background noise.

“-Tonight at 11; In other news, a horrific breaking and entering at McCorrick and Washing Dr tonight as security cameras catch the nightmare unfolding. Police say two adults: one male, and one female, were found with three stab wounds in the chest and fatal cuts on their faces and throats. They were pronounced dead on arrival. One survivor, a young girl, escaped with heavy injuries and extreme loss of blood. EMTs rushed her to the hospital where she remains in critical condition. The footage shows the brave girl jumping from her second-story balcony and making her way to the local gas station where the cameras were located. The suspect seems to be a man in his late 20s, wearing what seems to be a white jacket and a face mask; although later eyewitnesses account that he, himself, was brutally mutilated.

This seems to be another case in a string of homicides by who authorities call the Glasgow killer, named so because of what he does to his victims and what he has apparently done to himself. Although, there’s nothing connecting the murders in terms of age, gender, or race, and there is no apparent pattern to each home hit, the suspect does cut a Cheshire smile cut into each unfortunate victim. If spotted-”

The whistling of the kettle catches your attention and you finish making hot tea with milk and honey. You had a light supper of leftovers and now you were drinking some tea to wake up a bit, You still had a few hours left before you could clock out and get some sleep. Sipping and holding your mug close to your body, you sit back down and stare at your computer screen. You knew what the underbelly of your city was capable of, the things people were uncomfortable talking about. Your city wasn’t the safest nor was it the place to go start a long and prosperous life, but it was a city of opportunity for those willing to cross that line. It was a hellscape sanctuary in the desert where the old and the rich come to vacation for the winter, only to leave when the summer heat arrives to cook the denizens unfortunate to live here. Only people with nowhere else to go were desperate enough to live in this scorching concrete jungle. Your city, the city of hope and of ruined pasts, was also the city of new beginnings for the rotten. Rated one of the highest for crime and deaths by murder. The land of opportunity was often paved in blood and sacrifice. You were no different, you came here for the promise of a better life just like the rest of the people. You turn back to the tv where the news showed a picture of the survivor and what looked to be a professionally drawn picture of a zombie with an unnaturally large smile. His sunken eyes seemed to be too large for his thin face and his nose seemed to have rotted away. Eyewitnesses described him as a moderately tall man with a sturdy build, wearing a tattered dirty white hoodie. His drawn picture bored into your soul and you were grateful when they decided to go into more detail about the victim instead, as you stretched again and continued working.

A young woman in her late teens, not much younger than yourself but definitely still a minor by law. You watch as the newscaster shows a picture of her from her social media, happy and smiling in a sea of blurry faces. She was very pretty and had a nice smile. You take a sip of tea, ready to get back to work when the stoic newsman claims police say they have security footage from a store nearby the incident. Pausing once more when you hear the name of said store, you focus on the tv as it cuts to the grainy video. It showed the gas station lot but in the background, there seemed to be something else going on. You see the distant apartments’ second-story homes. A small figure jumped from one of the balconies onto a brick wall and frantically crawled over: the young survivor barely covered and clutching her shoulder, struggling to make it over the brick wall. She landed heavily but crawled to her feet and limps to the gas station. A larger figure, suspected to be the killer, emerges from the balcony and follows her albeit with more grace akin to a cat. He leaped onto the balcony railing and used the brick wall as a stepping stone. He landed running and looked to be ready to grab the poor girl, but she was fortunate enough to make it inside the gas station and out of his reach. He skidded to a stop, looking through the glass before making his way away from the building and into the darkness.

Something is knocked into the camera and it abruptly ends cutting back to the newsman explaining the poor girl’s fate. She was carted away to the nearby hospital but as she had lost a lot of blood, she was still unconscious. She had stab wounds on her right shoulder, right thigh, and both in her hands. She was beaten to near death with bruises on her throat and face. Her family wasn’t so fortunate, having similar stab wounds, but a fatal cut on their throats and mutilated faces. Whoever has done this likes to cut joker smiles into his victims, leaving them to bleed out to steal anything of value from the residents. The news cuts to another story but not before showing the professional drawing of the killer again and cautioning viewers to be safe.

You let out a shallow breath you didn’t know you were holding, your hands trembled slightly. Closing your eyes, you knew that this was the very same gas station you visited the night prior. You had recognized the hospital to be the very same hospital you lived near. According to the timestamps, this seemed to take place right before you woke up. You had heard the very ambulance that took her. Small world. You steadied your breath and continued working, feeling much more alone and vulnerable than ever. The jingle of tiny bells rings out and your little kitten runs into the bedroom, chasing invisible prey into the night.