#anyway. this to say. if youre interested in a rare breed. heres your sign to reach out lol

[beauceronn]

Carolina Dogs are so interesting. The person who had the one I posted also has another (altered female). I learnt so much about how they're working to preserve the breed and the history of the breed, what they look for for breeding stock and what they aim for. That dog had an incredible temperament (so sweet, so polite) and was just beautiful to watch. Very interesting stuff.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! I read shockingly little fic this month so I’m going to support some fic fests that are currently running.There are so many amazing new fics all around so make sure to check them out and leave lots of love for the authors ♥ @onedirectionbigbang: Big Bang Round 4 just finished this month but you can find a complete round up of all the fics on the blog | AO3 collection here @1daboficfest: you can also find some rare pair a/b/o’s here | AO3 collection here @hlmpregficfest: The mpreg fest just started posting last week | AO3 collection here @wipsanonymousfest: support authors to complete their wips here | AO3 collection here

The eight fics I actually finished this month are under the cut:

The Earl and His Duke | QuickedWeen | Regency - historical - friends to lovers - light angst - smut - 53k Lord Tomlinson, the elusive Duke of Leeds, has suddenly emerged in London for the first time in six years. He is believed to have been abroad. He is believed to have been widowed. He is believed to want to withdraw from society. Harry doesn’t know what is true and what isn’t. He only knows that the older brother of one of his best friends is back in town to stay, and that time has taken him from merely the most beautiful man Harry knew, to the most handsome man to ever walk the earth. A man whose gaze probably still skips over Harry like he doesn’t exist the same way it did when they were young.

Double Trouble | Beanno28 | mpreg - canon divergence - smut - 23k Exactly five minutes later, Harry walked out of the room with his head down, focusing on doing up the last of the buttons on his shirt. “There you are,” a familiar male voice startled Harry. “What were you… oh, I see you must have found some poor stagehand to sneak off with.” Harry smirked, thinking about his time with Louis, “I guess you could say that.” “You’d better make a quick stop in the bathroom before joining everyone else on the bus, you stink,” Paul, one of their security guards, advised. Or the one where Harry and Louis start secretly hooking up while on tour and Harry ends up pregnant.

eucalyptus | docklands | a/b/o - kid fic - scenting - lactation kink - breeding kink - 46k Harry didn't mean to get pregnant at all. When little Agnes comes along, his bachelor life takes a turn and he has to figure out how to single parent, with the occasional help from his best friend and co-worker, Zayn. Everything is running smoothly until Agnes starts acting strange, crying non-stop, sleeping at the most unconventional hours and not caring that she's ruining Harry's life. Her doctor says she's just an infant and that there's nothing wrong with her. Harry's instincts tell him the doctor's wrong and that he needs to seek a second opinion. Agnes' new paediatrician, Louis Tomlinson, is enthusiastic, passionate about his job and a little too charming for Harry's lonely heart to take. More than figuring out what's wrong with her, Louis ends up revealing secrets about Harry's life he had never even dreamed about.

Lunar Waltz | outropeace | a/b/o - 19th century - marriage of convenience - hate to love - mystery - enemies to lovers - angst - deception - smut - 57k “You want me to seduce an alpha,” Louis hissed. “I want you to marry an alpha. It’s the only way I could ever get back on my feet. You didn’t think a few dances at a ball would do anything to Alastair’s reputation or mine...” “And what if Alastair comes back? Have you thought about him in all of this? You’re going to marry him to an alpha he doesn’t even know!” “Oh he does know him, in fact... he’d be ecstatic to know he got to marry him.” Louis’ blood ran cold, already suspecting who was the alpha the earl was talking about. “Who is he?” he asked anyways, hating how fragile and almost scared his voice sounded. “Lord Harry Styles.” Louis' stomach dropped, the words came smelling like danger, sending a bolt of fear down his spine, the Earl wanted Louis to seduce The Duke of Death. Or Louis has to replace his (missing) twin brother and marry one of the most dangerous alphas of the kingdom.

Unveiled | phdmama | a/b/o - royalty - magic - 60k The train grinds to a halt and Harry leans forward in his eagerness to take it all in. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, the sky the same intense blue that he knows from home, which comforts him. There’s much here that looks almost familiar, but then so much that is new and strange to his eyes. The bustling station platform and winding streets beyond paved in cobblestones look much like home. There are vehicles ranging from small to very large, some with strange and unusual shapes of which he can only guess the purpose. But most surprising are the people. There is a crowd gathered, filled with men and women, some in what looks to be a military uniform, some in what must be the street clothes in this Land. There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.

Stubborn Hearts | Rearviewdreamer | social worker Louis - kid fic - foster care - adoption - angst - 33k Louis’ job description as a child social worker doesn’t cover half of what he does, but he doesn’t mind going above and beyond and putting his whole heart into it, especially when it comes to Sydney.

The Money Mark | brightgolden | a/b/o - Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby - exes to lovers - pining - nesting - age difference - smut - 52k Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago. Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well. OR Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

Is it a sign? | bluegreenish | a/b/o - deaf character - 25k “Also, I didn’t mean it literally,” Harry continues his rambling, gesticulating to support his point. “You don’t owe me a beer and I surely don’t expect you to buy me anything, it was just to start a conversation but you’re obviously not interested in that. Which, again, maybe next time an omega, or anyone really, approaches you, you could convey -” To Harry’s surprise, he’s interrupted by the handsome stranger, who’s been weirdly fixated on his lips the whole time. What a creep! “You speak so fast, I can’t read your lips like this.” What? Harry’s frown deepens and he just stares at the man, waiting for him to explain. Because why the hell would he need to read Harry’s lips? They’re not in some detective movie. The man rolls his eyes at Harry’s obvious lack of understanding. “I’m deaf,” he huffs and points to his ear. And oh. Yikes. That’s kind of embarrassing. or, the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

[indefinitely-in-fandom-hell]

It’s Gaara Week! - just kidding, Gaara Week is in January - this is Gaara Weekly. So I heard the topic this time is:

“what Gaara would do together with Shinki if he had some time off” 

now that’s just wholesome, how could I not at least *attempt to* provide some headcanons?

*side note: I have no idea how I ended up with this mess of a post but here you go*

So we know their hobbies: Gaara likes “battling” according to the second databook and by the time the third came around, he added “cultivating cacti” to the mix. Shinki likes both “gardening” and “embroidery” according to character trivia from Boruto. Makes sense that they would bond over tending to plants right? In fact, most would probably assume that Shinki adopted this hobby from his father. And while I do believe they get some rare father-son time tending to Gaara's cacti together - I don't know if that's what they would actually choose to do if they had a significant amount of free time.

If I was being realistic: They would probably spend their days off training.

_________________________ Yeah I hear you people in the back screaming “booo” - but this seems to be the most realistic scenario - to me at least. So let me explain:

His people and village always seem to be the priority for Gaara and Shinki is the future of Suna, not only as the Kazekage's heir but simply as part of the next generation who will take on leadership positions after the current decision-makers retire. There is not a single doubt in my mind that Gaara views mentoring future generations as one of his top priorities. Shinki wants to make his father proud and properly represent his family and village. He is hugely appreciative of any training time his busy father can spare for him - such an opportunity doesn't come every day. Both of them have very no-nonsense, goal-oriented personalities.

- So if Gaara had a couple of hours to spend however he wanted, he would invest them in the future of his village: Shinki. If Shinki had the chance to get some in-depth one-on-one training with his father, he would jump at the opportunity.

We know that Gaara, unlike Naruto with his son, has at least somewhat regularly been training Shinki in person. He has mentioned how he taught his son 'everything he knows' and Shinki actually training directly with his (very busy) father just makes sense: The two of them are the only people we know of with their kekkei genkai - and Gaara is the only one with abilities almost identical to Shinki's. It’s true that Gaara only knows the basics when it comes to iron sand - or rather, that was confirmed to be the case until at least the early blank period. But he would know next to every use of regular sand and that’s still more than any other jonin in suna. Of course, as the Kazekage, Gaara simply doesn't have the time to do the majority of Shinki's training - but I wouldn’t question that he's the one giving the crucial advice, reviewing his training progress and telling his son what abilities need more work.  

So if he has a little bit of time to spare - I have no doubt he would (and does) put most of it into training Shinki. And that includes days off. 

_________________________

.

.

.

But y'all didn't come for that - don't lie.

*enter Part 2: “But what if we talk about cats instead?”

We love these two (and the entire Sand-family for that matter) so naturally, we want to see them use their time off for anything BUT work or training. Gaara and Shinki are definitely the worst offenders here, they always seem like those people who would rather work on their duties than cut cake on their birthdays - Gaara more so because he seems very focused on always putting his own pleasure behind doing 'something useful to others' and Shinki because he's just beginning to realize the value of friendship. *Insert mlp meme here*

So for the sake of fun, we will just assume SOMETIMES Gaara decides that his son should do “normal activities” instead of training and ends up going somewhere with him. But where? If for some reason, Shinki were to accompany his father to another village for a diplomatic meeting, I think they would definitely walk around that village a bit and just take in the local culture: food, sights, and the like. Imagine the way Lee and Tenten showed Gaara and Kankuro around Konoha in episode 497 and had them try ramen for the first time - kind of like that. But this example also shows just how rarely Gaara seems to get time off during official visits: it took him being Kazekage for 4 years until he ate his first Ramen - but ok, if the war hadn’t been in the way I guess Naruto would have made him try it sooner. Now, if we are talking about “regular” time off, the place would definitely need to be in Suna - Gaara is important for the protection of his village so he can’t just leave whenever he wants.

I’m also going to assume that Gaara can walk around relatively freely without being bothered by crowds - if simply for the fact that we have seen him do so before, at least in other villages. Gaara strikes me as a character who could very much enjoy new experiences - there was once a time when most things “normal” people did were foreign to him and he had to go through a very steep learning curve after his first encounter with Naruto. I can see him trying new things when he gets the chance and also wanting to encourage Shinki to do the same - so long something falls not too far outside both of their comfort zones.

.

We established all the little details but no one has gone anywhere yet. So if we are going for something interesting: > how about we bring cats into this?

Gaara and Shinki strike me as having a lot of, for the lack of a better word, “cat-people energy” - were they aware of this before this fateful day? Probably not. Were they aware of it afterward? - you bet!

Gaara felt a bit confused when he heard that Suna would be hosting a big pet show for the first time in a few years *he had to sign the paperwork after all* - what was that again? People bring their cats and dogs to show them to visitors and a jury?

“Must be another unique way humans manage to be vain about their property” - the concept of placing much importance in the things one owns and how they reflect on you was something Gaara understood as a concept but never fancied.

He didn’t understand very well why visitors would want to see such a spectacle until Kankuro said something along the lines of “sometimes people just want to see animals do cute stuff I guess? You know how girls and kids are - show them a dog rolling over and they will go crazy - don’t worry too much about it, I’m also not much of a fan.”

On a second thought: “Oh but maybe Shinki likes that stuff? I mean he’s a kid - ..... although he doesn’t behave like one most of the time.”

- and with that comment, the deal was settled: there would be father-son bonding time scheduled and they would go observe cute animals!!

Shinki wasn’t very thrilled but what can you do - he wanted to train but was too well behaved and respected his father too much to object any of his decisions - no matter how strange some of them sounded.

In the end, none of them had high expectations for this trip but they went anyway because “At worst we have made a valuable experience” - Gaara

*Shinki didn’t dare question what could be “valuable” about this*

As it turned out, the date they picked for their visit was designated for cats of all breeds --

Of course, both Gaara and Shinki had seen cats before - from afar. No one in their family owned any animals - if you didn’t factor in the deer raised on the property of the Nara-clan.

But they had also HEARD about cats before

--------- mostly because Shukaku never seemed to miss an opportunity to insult them: “cats are the most useless creatures, it goes to show how stupid humans are for domesticating them” - “and you are sure you aren’t just saying this because kids always seem to mistake you for one?” -Kankuro would add

*Needless to say: Kankuro still enjoyed provoking people he really shouldn’t.* -------------

Well now the two shinobi were in front of one - their first close encounter with a feline - a big sand-colored persian with her owner, a friendly-looking old lady, standing next to her.

“Well I suppose they are quite endearing with their big eyes” -Gaara noted

Old lady: “Oh dear would you like to come closer? She really enjoys being pet behind her ears - she’s even calm with most strangers”

Gaara was a bit hesitant

When you’ve only ever heard bad things about cats and their temper you might think twice about petting them when you get the chance - at least until you take the courage to hold out your hand and they start purring like you are their best friend and they will love you forever.

Now, if anything gets Gaara - it’s being shown unconditional love and acceptance in unexpected places

yes apparently this does not exclude kitties

*holding out his hand while the cat is purring and meowing* Gaara : O.O Shinki, next to him: O.O Both of them internally: "ohhhh so THAT'S what all the fuss is about"

- Instant non-verbal agreement that cats are awesome

After that encounter, both might or might not have been extremely tempted to adopt a cat.

But since Gaara knew no one in this family had much time to spend at home - *and because he had this lingering sense that the cat might develop a taste for his succulents* - he had to resist.

This however wouldn’t mean that their next “family day” wasn’t already planned to be a trip to the local animal shelter. _________________________ Bonus:

eventually, Shukaku finds out about their trips and is NOT amused that they considered bringing one of “those things” home.

Yes- he’s still fuming from that one time he was carried by Shinki in his more “compact” form and a toddler pointed at them saying “oh your cat is so chubby! can I pet it? Pleeeeese!!” (*needless to say both Shinki and Gaara were mortified back then and hurried to get Shukaku away from the little girl before any casualties were to occur*)

He continues to sulk for at least a full month about this “betrayal”.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Animal Planet.”

I had the sudden desire to do one of those documentary style episodes today, so that is what you are going to get. This will probably have one or more episodes, but it should be fun. Hope you all like :)

“Ok, ok ok, everyone listen up!... QUIET DOWN PLEASE…. Ok very very good. Now we have been cordially invited to interact with a very special group while they are being quartered here on our planet.”

“Don’t you mean you pestered begged and threatened?”

“You know what, you, you can shut up.”

‘Why are we doing this anyway. Humans aren’t all that interesting anymore?” 

“That is where you are wrong! Universe-wide opinion polls state that, behind the drama with the LFIL, humans at large and the most sought after topic in the galaxy. My other sources tell me that only 5% of the galactic population has ever even seen a human. You should read some of the rumors about them, it is quite stimulating. 

“How did you even get this to work?”

“The humans seem to want good PR as much as we want good entertainment. Alright everyone! GET YOUR CAMERAS READY!” “Do you want us to turn on the translation software?” 

“No, of course not, well for everyone accept humans.”

“Why.”

“Well the public won’t exactly get a great thrill from them if they think they are intelligent speaking creatures now will they.”

“But they are?” 

“Shut up, and get ready.” 

“Three….. two ….. One.” 

“HELLO EVERYONE! I am Mendex of the Tesraki, and today on my journey through the universe to meet some of the most dangerous species known to the galaxy, I have taken a stop back on my own planet for a rare opportunity. Now my researchers have come up with a few statistics I would like to share with you before we begin. According to intergalactic poles only five percent of the universal population has ever met, in person, one of these creatures. Number two, since their introduction, these creatures have been the cause for a 15% incline in death rate and a .2% drop in life expectancy for your average dweller of the GA. They can digest metal,, and reports say that they evolved to run their prey to death….. A slow death towards exhaustion.”

The camera pans slowly over the face of the Mendex, his light brown fur accented by a scruffy red scarf around his neck. They are walking up a grassy pathway, though the grass comes in shades of purple and blue instead of green.

“Now as I said before, I have been given a rare opportunity to interact with these creatures in their own environment. Now based on the concerns of some of my producers, we will not be allowed to go in alone, but have connected with an Expert who will take us through safety. Now as I understand it, this expert has left society to spend entire swaths of time with these creatures. He claims to have been incorporated into their pack and has enough social standing with them that he will be able to protect us while we interact.” 

The ground grows steep for a moment as the camera moves up a hill and over the other side.

“Ah, there it is, their hive. Look at it. Now not much is known about how they build such complicated structures, but we do know that they enjoy the use of very hard sharp lines and corners. “ They trundle down another hill and towards the ship sat crouched in a field. Overhead clouds pass over the star.

“Oh, and there is our expert, waiting for us at the entrance to the hive.

The camera cuts for a second, and when it comes on the Tesraki and a Vrul are sitting side by side at the base of the hive.

“No more suspense. It is time for me to tell you what we are going to be seeing today….. HUMANS. Yes that’s right everyone, I have been given access to a human pack and the expert who has been living with them for the past few cycles now.” He turns to the Vrul sitting by his side, “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and your research, Docotr.”

The little creature glances up at the sun and then back towards the cameras, “Well I am Dr. Krill, and I have been working as a surgeon for as long as I can remember.” “As A surgeon, how did you end up here?” 

“Well, that is actually an interesting story. I was working at the Thevel-1 Andromeda Trauma center, when a human ship actually called in for an emergency landing. One of the humans had been involved in some sort of freak accident on board, and they required immediate medical attention, so I men them in the trauma bay, and, I will leave the details out, but as it turned out one of the humans had a metal rod logged in his brain, through the orbital socket.”

“No, you’re kidding me?”

“Not even a little. I had never seen anything like it. Accidents like that result in visits to the morgue, not the hospital, but the human was still alive, so I removed the object and watched his recovery. Now at this point I was so fascinated that I couldn’t just let them go. There was so much for me to learn.”

“So just like that, you hopped on a human ship, and went gallivanting across the galaxy.”

“I know, sounds strange every time I hear about it, hardly something I would do.”

“What was that like, first day aboard a human ship, surrounded by predators.”

“Terrifying as you might imagine. I was convinced that I was going to get eaten or worse, but of course I never did.”

“Now why don’t you tell us a little about humans.

“Well, Mendex, the first thing you should know about humans is how social they are. Humans generally require SOME contact with other humans weather it be in large group units or at least one other human that they can interact with. It is such a big deal in fact that isolation can drive a human to madness or worse. They are very perceptive to social situations, and that is what made my first day so terrifying because the humans have many social rules that are expected to be followed that just never crossed my mind.”

“And how dangerous would you say a human is?”

“Well that depends entirely on the human and the situation. If a human thinks they are in danger, they will either run or they will fight. Humans have a special hormonal response that, during times of extreme stress, can allow them to life objects up to 500% their own body weight. For most of us a human, even the weakest humans, have the ability to maim, injure or severely mutilate.” he held up a hand, “however, I am not saying that to make you wary of humans, they are generally very friendly and curious creatures, and as long as they don’t feel threatened they will at least be tolerant of you.”

“Why are humans so dangerous?”

“Well that is a funny question, it actually stems from the simple fact that humans aren't actually all that dangers…. At least not on their planet, on the basis of raw power or predatory instincts.”

“Fascinating, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that humans were not originally a predator species, in fact they are actually pretty poor hunters compared to most everything on their planet. In fact prey animals have been known to maul humans if provoked. Humans are probably the LEAST durable species on their planet. They adapted to survive in a world where the prey animals were dangerous and the predators could decimate them with the sweep of a paw.”

“Is that why they are a pack-creature.”

“Precisely, you see, a single human has a very low likelihood of being dangerous on their own planet, but together they can hunt creatures three four five times their own size if not more. You see comparatively to other animals of their planet, humans are slow, weak, with a poor sense of smell, hearing and even sight, but they had the one thing that sentient life is known for, and that is intelligence. This intelligence allowed they to group together and create a strategy for surviving in a hostile environment. That then led them to the building of weapons and machines to the point that survival was no longer an issue, and hunting even the most dangerous of their previous predators had become laughable.” 

“That is fascinating, to think that a creature that dangerous could be so weak on their planet….. Have you met any of these other dangerous species?”

“Actually, yes/ Humans are so social and pack oriented that they have the ability to bond with non-sentient animals. They call it domestication, and it requires an animal to be, pack oriented, easy to feed, and have a short gestation period. The humans then take that animal and only allow the breeding of animals with specific desirable traits. In fact, they took a similar pack predator, and used their natural sociability to integrate them into human packs. The humans keep them as pets and began to use them as hunting partners considering their new pack member was faster, stronger, had a better sense of smell and hearing, but was now loyal to its human companions.”

“That doesn’t sound real.”

“Oh but it is. We have one aboard the ship.”

“And this creature could rip the humans apart?”

“Oh pretty easily, especially if she had the element of surprise.”

“Amazing, so what do we need to know before we get on the ship with you, you know for our safety and security.”

The doctor shifts in place. He is making a strange expression that seems unnatural for a Vrul, “Well you have to be aware that the humans have a strict hierarchy. When you get on the ship you are immediately assigned a specific sort of guest place in this hierarchy. The human pack alpha that runs the ship is higher than you as well as the betas below him and their immediate underlings. You can assume that your comfort is more important than the low ranking humans but you MAY NOT order them around since it is not your place and you have not been accepted into the pack. Generally speaking though, a human ship is a relatively safe place as long as you are polite, apologetic, and willing to do what is asked of you. Now the humans are likely to be very curious, try not to show signs of fear, but if you do they aren’t going to attack or anything. Depending on the human they may or may not gently mess with you, they may playfully try to dominate or scare you for their own amusement, but don’t worry they aren't likely to attack. Do not make any disparaging remarks or insult the humans.”

“Are humans very sensitive to verbal attacks?”

“Some are and some aren’t. In the case of insulting a human, I have found that it is not generally the human you have insulted that you should be afraid of, but the other humans around the human you have insulted. You see many humans have no issue in making an insult, but will not tolerate one directed at one of their pack members. They are very protective of each other, especially the alpha. It is also a good idea not to insult objects that belong to humans. The human bonding instinct is strong enough that they will bond to objects. So the ship for example, do not offend the ship. I made that mistake on my first day and thought the alpha was going to tear out my throat.”

There was a shifting amongst the crew.

“What are the rules on touching.”

“That is complicated, it also depends on the human. The general rule is not to go up and touch a human without permission. If a human approaches you first, you may make contact with them. Generally hands and arms are acceptable to touch though I would suggest avoiding any other part of the human anatomy for the sake of their privacy. Humans are very very serious about their personal space and their personal privacy 

“Are there any warning signs that we should be aware of, just in case.”

The doctor nodded, “Well there are a few things. Humans have a warning call they use to indicate to other humans that something is wrong, it generally indicates pain or immediate danger and is specifically designed to get attention and bring other humans to assist. This involves a high pitched sort of keening, it is very loud and very powerful, and will hurt your ears if you aren't careful. Generally though, I have only ever heard it used on a few occasions. As far as more subtle things to look at. If a human gets into a defensive posture in your direction it isn't a good sign. They will bend at the knees and have their hands up to protect their face. Their chins will be lowered to cover their necks. Another important signal to look at is the face. A frowning human could either be thinking or they could be anger. That is when the mouth sort of dips on either end like this…. Yes…. yes like that. But the important thing to look at is the eyes. The eyes will always give them away.”

“What is so important about the eyes.”

“Well, human eyes are enormously expressive. I swear by them personally. Humans have this habit of pretending one thing but meaning another, and looking at the eyes can tell you that. Eyebrows slanted down is generally a good indicator. A frown mixed with slanted eyebrows and…. Its hard to explain. If you look into the eyes and feel as if their expression could kill you, you probably want to stop doing whatever you are doing. Also sudden silence isn’t entirely a good thing either. Humans love talking to each other, there is always someone speaking, most of the tie, but if you are in an area with many humans and none of them are speaking there is either something wrong, or they have been ordered to behave that way”

“What is a good indicator of a happy human.”

“It seems strange, but showing their teeth is a good sign most of the time. A curious human is generally a happy human. They like learning and interacting with their environment, so encourage curiosity and the showing of teeth. Also there is a strange sound they make, sort of a repetitive revving noise that comes from the back of the throat or the chest. That means that the human is amused, and that should also be encouraged.”

“Alright…. Do you think we are ready.”

“I think so…. Follow me.”

The crew gets up and the feed cuts to black.

This episode will continue after the break.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter One: Caliah (Lore)" in the Bastet breedbook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse"

Once there was a cat who dreamed he was a man.

Like the morning mist, she appeared from nowhere, or so it seemed.

The winds have spoken of your dilemma and I have come to show you the way home.

Why do you call me brother?

We are family.

We have different parents but share the same blood.

You need to meet your people

You are my sister

I have no other family. Don’t leave me!

We all have family

What are the dreams of a cat?

Let us welcome each other and speak of hidden things.

If they come in peace, we welcome them.

I’m just a mutt.

Listen up and listen close, ‘cause this isn’t stuff you’ll hear from any old place.

I’ve got friends with friends, if y’know what I mean, and this is good stuff.

They don’t get along, y’know.

A good lorespeaker tells different stories every time, and she makes ‘em as cool as possible.

Sound like anyone we know? Nah! Couldn’t be!

So how do you trade secrets, anyway? After all, isn’t a secret shared a secret lost?

If you don’t play the game, you don’t learn a thing.

Each element of the message becomes a metaphor, and the message becomes a story.

Florid? Hell yeah! But ya gotta admit it’s more graceful — and exposes a hell of a lot less — than blurting out the truth.

You might say, “I heard a story about so-and-so” but you’d never say “I did so-and-so.” If your audience has a clue, they’ll catch on.

Everything’s told in metaphors.

A good obtuse metaphor makes you look imaginative if someone gets it, really stupid otherwise.

Everything is larger than life. People don’t just cry, they “explode in showers like the sea.” Folks don’t just get mad, they “turn into coals that burn through the floor.”

If what you’re saying is important, bigger is better.

Simple? Not if you don’t get the lingo.

A wounded cat can surrender without disgrace.

Not enough to go around.

Hey, don’t let on you know what I told you, huh?

It was a time before life, a longing when the dream of birth was yet to be.

This marked the end of peace and the beginning of struggle.

Such promises are soon broken.

Why does even the skin of my daughter flee from my hands?

Why must I always be alone?

Master, what would you have of us?

Nothing exists for him but annihilation.

Go across the world

Let that which is pure stand whole, but erode that which is impure from within.

He tells many tales, but all of them are lies. He is rage made manifest, and he coils within us all.

There was no want, no war, no anguish, and all living things gave of themselves to help others exist.

Until some cataclysm happened, everything lived in peace and plenty.

Life has ever been a struggle, my brothers and sisters. Life has always meant that some may die for others’ pleasure.

That pleasure may be as necessary as hunger or as frivolous as sport, but it has always been fatal and always will be.

Only through struggle can we progress.

Only through sacrifice can we succeed.

We were born from conflict and we grow through adversity. Our ancestors are predators, great cats and human hunters who rose above their surroundings and mastered them.

We know our place in the Great Order, and it is not passive.

Like the moon, our world waxes and wanes.

Each era glows brightly, then fades into night before rising again as some new age.

As creatures of light, dark and twilight all, we are not moved much by the vagaries of fortune.

Each tribe has its creation story, and they differ in many ways.

I have my own ideas.

We are a breed eternally apart, and we are rare.

Water runs silent, yet crushes with the power of an elephant.

Its depths hold secrets that only the brave can find.

The first of our kind were nearly the last.

Those it caught were devoured.

Let this be your legacy

My tears, shed for you, will boil in your veins.

All people will fear you, and all animals, too.

Begone and tend the flocks that need killing.

I banish you from sight!

They still live on in us, and we carry their curse to this day.

As the humans prospered, they grew quickly out of hand.

It was a bloody, useless time, and we fractured as a people.

Secrets became the only thing to bind us.

It’s hard to forgive these raging bastards.

Very territorial, and I know how that feels.

There are enough horrors in the night already.

Corruption has a million voices; sometimes they drown out the song of the moon and lead us over cliffs.

That song wails from nightclubs, boom boxes and televisions every day.

Stop up your ears, my friend and listen to the wind.

Those secrets led the wolves to our door — literally.

Gods damn the dogs for that!

Their misbegotten crusade killed hundreds of our Kind and Kin.

She mated with serpents, wolves and great cats in an effort to become like them, but gave birth to monsters instead.

Some legends portray her as one of our kind, but we know this isn’t so.

If the tales I’ve heard are any measure, they have no pity for us at all.

We are where we are born.

I think our unique insights show us that humanity is a mixed blessing — especially where the earth and the wild are concerned.

Men are the cleverest monkeys, no doubt, but they don’t have much sense of self-preservation.

Our forebears fought to let humanity prosper.

We have an amazing world at our fingertips, but it’s filled with poisons and lies.

Honor seems to be a fading dream in lands where the rich starve their people and the poor kill each other.

We hold magic within ourselves, within our hearts and minds and spirits. To dishonor ourselves is to disperse that magic and scatter our souls.

It’s acceptable to lie to other creatures; they’re not of our blood and not bound by our laws.

We will flee to survive a fight, but will not run when others depend on our strength.

We must make restitution to those we deceive, in deeds, trade or money.

We may be exiled or branded.

Our weapons are many — secrets, claws, teeth and allies — and we will not hesitate to employ them for our world’s

survival.

Our people have walked too close to extinction for us to take such matters lightly.

We will not ally ourselves with shadow powers or drink corrupted wisdom.

We do not fail our Earth and mother. That path leads to death.

We are the keepers of secrets, and our fates depend on silence.

Each of us bears the hidden doom of our own people, and we know the cost of betraying that trust.

We also know that we have what others want — or what they think they want — and it amuses us to make them squirm.

Our knowledge is our concern.

We will not share it unless we wish to.

We will hide ourselves from outsiders; they will think they know us, but we will delude them.

We will wrap our lore in riddles and tales; let the clever ones puzzle out their meaning.

We will act as if we know even more than we do, for it keeps outsiders guessing.

Let them wonder at our insight; they value us more highly when they do.

We will cover our tracks with misdirection, pretend to be other than what we are, fill the air with idle rumors and hide messages in code.

There is no forgiveness for this crime.

Well, let’s just say I know what I’ve seen. And I’ve seen a lot.

His eyes were so filled with pain that I decided to help out.

I’d swear he was grinning as the semi ran him down.

That felt good.

Guess they’ve gotta live here, too.

I say they’re not as smart as they might think.

Maybe I’m the one who’s being fooled.

I could tell you stories all night, all week, all month and more.

As the temples rose and the hordes crossed through, our parents sat on the sidelines of history and observed the passing of kings.

The cultures we witnessed shaped our own ways.

Cities rose, each with secrets too tempting to ignore.

For a long time — 4,000 years — there was all the room in the world for us, and no lack of secrets to keep us entertained.

We should have seen the signs in the Classical Age, when armies swept across the land in the names of gods, kings and conquerors.

We should have met en masse when trade and crusades brought East and West together.

I will not belabor the point. We know what happened.

Explorers, slavers and great white hunters bounded into the wilderness and cast a chain around our kind.

Suddenly, we went from having all space to having little.

I can’t say I don’t share the sentiment just a bit.

We didn’t stop until a greater evil forced us to align, but that’s another story.

It’s a wonder anyone survived.

We studied their secrets, but could learn nothing from them.

We have no one to blame but ourselves.

For all our vaunted sight, we’re blind. For all our gathered lore, we’re stupid.

The world is falling apart.

I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but we are living in interesting times!

We must pool our secrets, combine our efforts, and bring the world’s secrets to light.

We must act on what we discover and disperse what we learn.

Do I lose my cool?

The modern age is the greatest puzzle we could want endless streams of secrets, enigmas, wonders and dazzles, wrapped up in an explosive package that could blow us all to hell.

Anywhere, at any time, the whole ride could fly off the rails.

Those who ignore the warning feed the vultures the next morning.

I’ll simply say the tigers are not where you’d expect.

People have begun to open their eyes, but they still need your counsel to see the cliff’s edge before falling off

Those stories are true — violently true — and they add up to an appalling picture if you string them all together.

They get an idea, work on it a bit, and try to rule the world. Typical. We’ve seen their kind before.

Look around you if you doubt it.

Surely the secrets you’ve uncovered have given you the idea that maybe, just maybe, something’s going on, something bigger than another plunder, another invasion, another city that falls to ruin in a century.

Discover what you can, but bury your tracks well.

We’re strangers to each other for most of our lives, and we like it that way — a few careful gatherings are all we

can stand.

The moon is our patron, but the shadows are our father too, and they call to us at our weaker moments.

Most of us dance on the edge, though, and that’s where we like to be!

Despite our pains, we’re spirited and wild, inquisitive yet careful, sensual yet refined.

Our beauty is our greatest pride, and our wits are second to none.

We know what we are.

To hell with them all!

Still, we cannot let pride blind us to the facts.

The morning it foretells is up to us.

We must come together, yet retain our pride.

We are the keepers of secrets.

Perhaps it’s time those secrets were revealed.

[sachigram]

Telescope Now Chapter 1

((click here to read on ao3!!))

It's a usual busy morning when Izaya catches sight of familiar bleached, messy hair. He considers his options, wondering if it might be in his best interest to let Shizuo pass by unprovoked. Izaya's got a deadline coming up and a meeting to get to, not to mention his stomach is a little sour from leaving his apartment without breakfast. He could wait until Shizuo passes, make his way to the nearest cafe, and the rest of his day could go without a hitch, but somehow the thought of another mundane day has Izaya's face scrunching in irritation. His work isn't normal by any means, nor is his life, but he thinks if it ever started to be predictable, he really might lose his mind for good.

He watches Shizuo, wondering when might be the best time to intercept him, but he pauses when he hears Shizuo's laugh ring out. It's bright, unbridled, happy. Izaya rarely sees Shizuo like this, and he's never seen Shizuo like this up close. By far, this is the most Izaya has ever hated Shizuo. This is the most hate Izaya thinks he's capable of.

Still, he isn't making himself known.

Shizuo passes by with Tom and Vorona, still chuckling about something Izaya didn't hear. All of them are in their own little bubble, and to anyone who didn't know them, they might seem vulnerable. Izaya grins at that, thinks of false perceptions. He really shouldn't interrupt their day, not when there's so much else to do. Shizuo likely wouldn't stop chasing Izaya for over an hour, and even afterwards, Izaya knows staying in Ikebukuro means Shizuo will keep hunting him. It's better for Shizuo not to know Izaya is even in the city at all.

He steps out onto the sidewalk anyway.

It's an instantaneous reaction. Shizuo's happy, contented expression is replaced entirely, and Izaya knows if nothing else, he's succeeded in ruining Shizuo's morning. Shizuo steps closer, his teeth bared, fists clenched. He growls something, but Izaya barely hears it, doesn't need to. It's the same old song and dance, and Izaya knows it by heart.

He turns and books it, and he can tell without looking back that Shizuo is hot on his heels. It's strange, really, that his least favorite person— monster— is always the one who makes Izaya feel most alive. It's probably an animal instinct, something leftover from the past. Shizuo is a predator, after all, another breed entirely. More than that, he's fun. Shinra has mentioned, more than once, that goading Shizuo is akin to self-destructive behavior on Izaya's part, but then what does that make it for Shizuo?

“Getting distracted, flea?!” Shizuo shouts, and Izaya cackles as he dodges whatever it was Shizuo just threw. “You're slow today!”

“Faster than Shizu-chan all the same,” Izaya mutters to himself. He hasn't been sleeping well, which isn't anything new. He's got so much work to do, took on a lot at once, maybe too much. Izaya has always had a hard time sitting still, but at some point he's forgotten how to stop. It's unfortunate he ran into Shizuo today, but what was he supposed to do? Leave Shizuo in peace? Never.

He's propelling himself forward, and he thinks he's finally gaining enough momentum to lose Shizuo, but what he loses is something much more significant. He hears a honking, some shouts, a woman screaming. He feels pain all over, and then his vision goes black.

***

When he comes to, no time seems to have passed. He tastes blood in his mouth and realizes he bit his tongue when he fell. He's flat on his back, concrete smooth against his palms, and he blinks stars out of his vision as he realizes Shizuo is on top of him.

“Oi. You okay? Flea?” Shizuo holds up a hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“None?” Izaya asks. He coughs a bit, choking on blood and saliva. He bit his tongue hard. “You're just— it's just a fist.”

Shizuo leans back, eyeing him. His phone is in his other hand. “I'm gonna call Shinra.”

“Don't bother, I'm fine. Fuck...” Izaya looks around. A crowd has gathered, circling them, and Izaya thinks of sharks in the water. “I can walk.”

“Your head's bleeding.”

“Was I hit?” Izaya asks. He looks around for a truck, but he never saw what it looked like.

“No,” Shizuo says. He holds his phone up to his ear, and Izaya realizes Shizuo is calling Shinra anyway. “You weren't hit.”

Izaya barely registers Shizuo's conversation with Shinra. He's foggy, unsure of details, and his head is pounding. He presses his hand into his hair and winces as pain shoots through him. When he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

“I can walk,” Izaya says again. His legs seem to be fine, everything seems to be fine. It's just his head that's hurting, and Izaya has been concussed before. He stands and wobbles a bit, and Shizuo is on his feet in an instant.

“Izaya, stop. You're hurt.”

“I wasn't hit,” Izaya argues. “Did you save me?”

Shizuo glares at him before barking something else into the phone, and Izaya finds himself lowering back to the ground. His stomach is uneasy, and everything about this feels wrong somehow, like he's not in the right place or time. He draws his knees up and rests his head against them, feeling like he's dreaming.

Shinra arrives pretty fast. He's babbling something about already being in the area, and then he's pressing his fingers roughly into Izaya's hair and over the growing lump. Izaya hisses in pain and jolts back. Shinra laughs.

“You're fine if you can complain, Izaya-kun!”

“I don't think that's how pain works,” Izaya mutters. He's noticed that Shizuo is still standing off to the side, smoking as he observes.

“You should come over. You'll need monitoring.” Shinra checks over the rest of Izaya before deeming him fit enough to be moved. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Izaya snaps, but when he stands, his legs feel like jelly. “I already said I could.” He winds up blacking out before he can take a step.

***

As it turns out, it is a concussion, a pretty bad one. His head ends up needing stitches, and Izaya is surly and irritated by the time Shinra is finally leaving him alone. Shinra's guest bed isn't comfortable, but the room is quiet and private. Izaya wonders if Shizuo is still out there with Shinra and Celty, but then he decides he doesn't want to know the answer.

It's hard to focus at all, but time is definitely passing. Izaya keeps dozing off and waking to different lighting in the room, usually to Shinra jabbing him. It takes a while for Izaya to feel up for talking, but when he does, he blurts out the only thing he can think of.

“Shizu-chan saved my life, didn't he?”

Shinra hums and writes something down on a chart.

“He did. Tackled you right out of the way from an incoming truck.”

Izaya frowns and tries to make sense of that answer.

“What's wrong? Unhappy you were saved by Shizuo-kun? Or just unhappy you were saved?” Shinra asks, and he grins as he plops into the seat next to the bed. “You should be grateful. You probably would've died if you were struck.”

“Don't tell me how to feel about my own mortality,” Izaya says. “It's rude.”

“You've always called him a monster, but he was human enough to save you! Maybe this is your new lease on life. You can become a better person,” Shinra quips.

“Does that mean I'll finally get better friends?”

“Maybe! I don't have any intention of changing, though.”

“Of course not.” Izaya grins and covers his eyes with his hands, rubbing at them as incredulous laughter escapes him. “Fuck. This can't be real, right? Shizu-chan saving me?”

“He's a good person,” Shinra says, and he swats at Izaya when Izaya just laughs harder. “I mean it!”

“He's barely a person at all.” Izaya uncovers his face and stares listlessly up at the ceiling again. Where does this leave him? Should he thank Shizuo, be indebted to him? Should he stop trying to make Shizuo's life a living hell?

“What are you thinking about?” Shinra asks, and he smiles when Izaya turns to him.

“I didn't ask him to save me.”

Shinra sighs and leans onto the bed, his hand tugging at Izaya's sleeve.

“I'm not saying you should thank him or anything. He'd probably be mad if you did, actually. But maybe just try and hate him a little less, huh? I think you can do that much.”

“Maybe I can't,” Izaya says. “Maybe seeing him as anything other than a monster is a fate worse than death. Maybe this was his plan all along, to torture me.”

“You're being dramatic. Now I know you're fine!”

They wind up playing cards. Izaya's headache is at a tolerable level, due to the pills Shinra gave him. Shinra's presence is warm and welcome, and Izaya's chest aches with how much he's missed this, playing a game with somebody. Usually he's alone, a master of solitaire and his own games, but this is better, much better, seeing Shinra get so competitive and bent out of shape about losing. Izaya considers letting Shinra win a hand, but thinks better of it. Shinra is an even worse sore winner than loser.

“I can leave tomorrow, right?” Izaya asks.

“I don't see why not. You're conscious and alert, no signs of brain damage.” Shinra shows his hand, a full house. He's beaming. “I win!”

“Finally,” Izaya says, bemused. “Here I was thinking that playing alone would be more of a challenge.”

“Liar,” Shinra says, already shuffling the cards. “You look far too happy to be thinking mean things about me.”

Izaya joins Shinra for dinner at the table. Neither Celty nor Shizuo are in the apartment, which Izaya is grateful for. He's not ready to face Shizuo, and he isn't in the mood to deal with Celty pestering him about being nicer to Shizuo from now on. Shinra serves some fried rice with vegetables, nothing fancy, but Izaya eats ravenously, remembering he hasn't had food all day.

“I wonder what's keeping Celty,” Shinra says after a few minutes of quiet.

“She's probably off with Shizuo, both of them discussing what a saint he is for saving my life,” Izaya mutters around his chopsticks.

“Mm, maybe. She keeps odd hours, after all. I love having her with me all the time, but just thinking about our reunion makes me so giddy! I can't wait for her to come back!”

Izaya rolls his eyes and then winces. He rubs at the bandage covering his head.

“Are you in pain?” Shinra asks.

“It's fine, really. It's going to hurt for a while. I think it's the stitches more than the injury.”

“It was a pretty bad injury. You really hit your head hard.”

“So you've said,” Izaya says, letting his hand fall. “Like I said, it's fine.”

“It's unlike you to be so clumsy. I expect Shizuo running into things, but you're usually more careful,” Shinra says, and Izaya nods.

“I've been a little under the weather. I shouldn't have provoked Shizuo today.”

“You shouldn't provoke him at all!” Shinra laughs. “A concussion is less than you deserve.”

“Second chances, and all. I suppose next time I get Shizuo hit by a truck, I'll be more sympathetic to his plight. After all, he saved my life.” Izaya takes another bite of food and then looks up at Shinra. “Have you got any sake?”

“I do, but you can't have any. You're concussed.”

“Worth a try,” Izaya laments, leaning back in his chair.

“I mean it, Izaya-kun,” Shinra starts, and Izaya waves him away.

“I get it, no drinking—“

“Not that,” Shinra interrupts. “I mean about Shizuo-kun. This fight really needs to end before someone gets killed. You came close today.”

Izaya sighs. “Freak accidents happen every day. It doesn't matter what I was doing before it happened to me. For all we know, it still might've happened.”

“Doesn't mean you should further your chances.”

“Why not? I'm a good gambler.” Izaya smirks, but he softens when Shinra keeps giving him a hard stare. “What do you care for, anyway? You've never minded our feud before, aside from your desire for us all to be friends.”

“I mind it! I've always minded it! I don't want either of you to die. It seemed kind of...playful, for a while, but you're both getting worse all the time.”

“Playful,” Izaya scoffs. “We've been trying to kill each other. This isn't anything new.”

“It is, and you know it. You're both out for blood all the time now. I'm so glad Shizuo-kun saved you today. He could've let you get hit, but he didn't. It gives me hope that you two could be—“

“Stop it,” Izaya says sharply. “I mean it. I don't want to talk about him anymore.”

“Izaya-kun.” Shinra is giving him an imploring stare, his jaw set. “No one is going to make the two of you be friends, but can't you at least consider not being his enemy?”

“No,” Izaya spits vehemently. “I can't consider that, and I won't. This isn't some stupid rivalry that's going to end from one act of selflessness. It's not that simple, for him or for me, and I'm sure he'll tell you the same.”

“Saving a life isn't just an act of selflessness, Izaya-kun. It's more than that! Don't you know how much a life is worth?” Shinra's stern gaze turns into something else. “Or is it just because it's your own life that you don't see it?”

“For fuck's sake,” Izaya groans. He puts his head into his hands. “You never know when to quit. I already said this was a pointless discussion, and you're still beating the dead horse into the ground.”

“I'm determined,” Shinra says. “Finish eating before it gets cold. And think about what I said before you just brush it off! I really think you two would be good for each other.”

Izaya doesn't respond because there's no point. No matter what he says, Shinra will always be trying to get him to make amends with Shizuo, and in a weird way, Izaya is grateful for Shinra's tenacity. Shinra is a selfish idiot, but he's the only person in Izaya's life who actually cares about him. He's the only one who would play cards with him on his sickbed, anyway.

“Did you call your sisters?” Shinra asks as he clears the table. Izaya gets up to help, not wanting to be a rude house guest.

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“Well, you almost died,” Shinra says, and Izaya chuckles, thinking to himself that it's really not as big a deal as Shinra is making it out to be. No one cared when he was stabbed, after all.

“I have no intention of telling them. They'd only use the information as an excuse to attack me, you know? Mairu really has it out for me these days.”

“You have a strange relationship with them. Have you meddled so much in their lives that they don't like you now? Maybe you should ease up a bit, and I'm sure they'll forgive you.” Shinra washes the dishes, and Izaya dries them with a fluffy towel. A bright cursive 'C' is printed on the towel, and Izaya shakes his head at it.

“It's not that. We just don't get along well. I'm sure they blame me for...certain aspects of themselves, and they're right to. I was never a very good parental figure.” Izaya stacks the dry plates together, unsure of which cabinet they go in. He doesn't come here enough to know where things go.

“You did the best you could,” Shinra says with a shrug. “When they get older, I'm sure they'll realize that.”

Izaya highly doubts it. He always took care of their physical needs, but when it came to emotional availability, he was out of it. He never understood their mood swings and their tantrums, and he didn't really try to. Their parents are painfully ordinary people, so the twins got every bit of their eccentricities from Izaya, who didn't think anything of it at the time. It makes sense for them to hate him. He doesn't take it personally.

He goes back to the guest bedroom after Shinra disappears to shower. There aren't any messages on Izaya's phone, not even from clients. Things are quiet tonight, and Izaya is grateful for it. He doesn't feel well enough to spend energy on getting involved in anything.

He dozes fitfully. He's tired, but different parts of him hurt enough to where he keeps waking up. He can't get comfortable on this shitty bed. He needs to remind himself to bully Shinra into getting another mattress, or at least a mattress cover. Izaya longs for his own bed, his own place, but there is a certain comfort in knowing Shinra is right in the other room, within earshot. Izaya doesn't have that at home.

By morning, Izaya is warm under the covers, and for all it's flaws, Izaya doesn't want to leave the bed. He forces himself upright, and when he pads into the living room, Celty is on the couch, her helmet off. Still, he can tell she's looking right at him. She holds up her PDA.

“You look funny all bandaged up.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Make fun of the mortal for injuries. How cruel of you.”

“Any lasting damage?” she asks.

“I doubt it. I'm nothing if not resilient. I probably won't have work for you for a few days. Things are strangely quiet, and I should rest anyhow. Phone screens are hurting my head.”

She lowers her PDA almost sheepishly, and he finds himself laughing at her.

“It's fine, really. I appreciate the concern.”

“Are you going to thank Shizuo for what he did?” Her shadows are swirling pensively. Izaya knew this was coming.

“Nope!” he says, and she shoves the screen in his face.

“?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!”

“I didn't ask him to save me, now did I? Besides, can you imagine what he'd say if I thanked him for anything, ever? He'd probably kill me then and there.” Izaya backs away from her and fetches his coat from the rack. “Believe me, pretending it never happened is what we both want.”

“You're wrong.” she types, and he ignores it.

“Tell Shinra I'll see him around,” he says as he exits the apartment. He's ready to be in his own bed, maybe call Namie over to wait on him. She'll hate him even more for it, but she cooks pretty well, and he actually likes her company. It's refreshing to be around people so openly hostile. They rarely hide what they're thinking.

Throughout the day, everything is painfully normal and boring. Aside from the twinges of pain he feels, Izaya thinks to himself it's almost like nothing happened at all. He contacts a few of his clients and asks for an extension, calls Shiki to check in and let him know he'll be resting for a bit, but will be ready for more work soon enough. When Namie comes, Izaya pesters her until she cooks, and she even joins him for dinner, though she says it's just because she's starving.

That night, Izaya sleeps well, though he has odd dreams, which is a normal occurrence for him. He dreams of the twins and himself, all young, together in that house. In the dream, he's trying to spend time with them, but they keep going off by themselves, laughing at him for even attempting to make a connection. No matter what he tries, he feels miles away, and in the end, he relents, leaving them alone until they both vanish. He wakes with a pit in his stomach, a feeling that something is very wrong, even if he can't place it.

He calls for Namie, but he knows she won't answer. It's daylight now, early morning, and she's long gone, clocked out on the time clock he installed just to annoy her. He looks up at his ceiling, remembering the dream. It's like a bad taste in his mouth, something that lingers despite his attempts to get rid of it. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, feeling like something is incredibly wrong, but unable to place exactly what it is.

He showers, forces himself to calm down. Nothing is any different from normal, and no matter what happens, being uneasy won't solve anything. He has so much to worry about already, especially knowing other people saw him injured on the sidewalk with Shizuo lingering over him. He considers messaging Shizuo, ridiculing him for stepping in, but he decides better of it. Izaya is too out of it to run from Shizuo right now, or anytime soon. He'll save it for later.

It's not until Namie is near him, clacking away at her own laptop, that Izaya says anything about it.

“I had a weird dream.” He looks up at her. She pauses from her typing, looks up at him with a deadpan expression.

“Okay. And?” she asks. He laughs, pushes his keyboard away before responding.

“It was about my sisters,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.

“I thought you said you didn't care about them very much?”

“I don't. It's just... A lot has happened,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Do you want their sympathy? You had a near-death experience. Did you want them to dote on you?” Namie is amused, grinning at him. Izaya shakes his head.

“It's not that. I always have weird dreams, you know? Sometimes I can fall asleep early like a normal person, but when I'm out of it, I see all kinds of things. I guess this one just stuck with me. It seems ominous, kind of. It made me feel...like something is going to happen soon.”

“Like a premonition?” Namie asks, and her playful expression is gone.

“Maybe? I... I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm bringing this up. I've had much weirder dreams in the past. I guess this one just felt different.” Izaya groans before rubbing at his bandage.

“Feelings are enough,” Namie says, and when she meets Izaya's gaze, she is sincere. “I mean it. If you think something is wrong, maybe something really is wrong.”

“You're being awfully engaging today, Namie-chan,” Izaya says, and she shrugs.

“They're your sisters. I understand how it feels to worry about family.” Her expression changes, and Izaya has no doubt she's thinking of Seiji. He makes a face and tries to get back to work, but he still feels off, a little nauseous, too. He's never felt this bad after a head injury before, and he considers calling Shinra, but it's entirely possible he was coming down with a stomach virus before he got hurt. He hasn't felt his best for a few days now.

“I think I'm going to nap,” he says after a while, and Namie glances back at him.

“Nap? You?”

“I feel gross.” Izaya stretches before standing. He pads over to the stairs. “You can go home, if you want. It was stupid of me to try to work today. Sorry to make you come over at all.”

“And now you're apologizing to me? How hard were you hit, anyway?” Namie asks, and she's grinning. Izaya rolls his eyes at her.

“It won't happen again,” he promises, and he starts climbing the stairs. Namie clears her throat.

“Do you need anything before I go?” she asks, and he's a little stunned. Usually she's out the door like a shot the second she learns she can leave for the day. As it is, she's looking at him with a neutral expression, but Izaya thinks she seems a little concerned.

“I still have leftovers from yesterday. I think I have a stomach virus, anyway. I doubt I'll eat much of anything.” He rubs at his stitches. They're really itchy, and underneath there is a constant, throbbing pain.

“Do you have medicine here?” Namie asks, and Izaya snorts.

“I have my own little pharmacy, courtesy of Shinra. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned about me!” Izaya grins at her, waiting for her to argue with him, but she just keeps looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“You don't seem well,” she says, and he frowns. “You look like you're going to keel over.”

“I plan to collapse right into bed. I'm fine, really. Go home, Namie-chan, I don't know what to make of you being nice to me.” He turns and heads back for his room, and he can hear Namie moving around below. He's too tired to make her leave, and really, she has a key. She can come and go when she pleases. He closes his eyes and drifts off to the sound of her footsteps.

When he wakes, his head is buried in his arms, and he realizes he's at his desk. He bolts upright, his eyes wide as he looks around. Namie is looking at him scathingly, as if he's purposely annoying her.

“Bad dream?” she asks.

“I thought I...went to bed. I went upstairs. Didn't I?” he asks, and she raises an eyebrow.

“You said you were tired and fell asleep right there. Now that you're awake, though, can I go?” Namie is already standing, and Izaya blinks up at her. His head is throbbing.

“Did we talk at all? I mentioned my sisters...”

“Your sisters?” Namie asks, pausing in gathering her things. “You never talk about them. Why would you start now?”

“Was it all a dream?” Izaya asks. He feels queasy. He needs to call Shinra.

“You're dreaming about mundane conversations with me? Wow. Here I thought an eccentric like you would have a more colorful subconscious,” Namie quips. She pulls her jacket on and heads to the door. “You have leftovers in the fridge. Don't call me unless you're dying.”

“Well that sounds more like you,” Izaya mutters to himself, waving her out. Once he's alone, he stands and immediately groans in pain before flopping back into the chair. His stomach lurches, and he doesn't know if he'll make it to the bathroom. He sits as still as he can while waiting for the vertigo and nausea to pass, and when he can move again, he grabs his phone and calls Shinra.

“Izaya-kun! I'm having dinner with Celty!” Shinra says as soon as he answers, and Izaya sighs.

“Sorry, I think maybe— Wait, dinner? It's so early,” Izaya says, and Shinra doesn't reply. “Hello?”

“Did you need something or can I hang up?” Shinra asks.

“My head— I think something's wrong. I feel terrible and I'm nauseous.”

“That's normal. You were rattled around, you know? It was a big truck.”

“The truck didn't hit me.”

“Right, right, but Shizuo-kun has more strength than a truck. Either way, just take it easy. You'll feel better soon, but you have to actually take care of yourself. Have you eaten today?” Shinra asks.

“No. I feel like I'll throw it up.”

“You've probably got low blood sugar. Eat something and lounge around, and if it doesn't subside by tomorrow, I'll come by.”

“I'm having trouble telling what's real,” Izaya blurts, and there's a pause before Shinra bursts out laughing.

“I'm not that kind of doctor, Izaya-kun!”

“It's because of my head injury, you idiot!” Izaya snaps, and Shinra keeps laughing.

“I'm sorry. It's normal to have some fogginess. You hit your head hard, and you aren't taking care of your body. Just relax and stay inside tonight. You don't want to pass out in the middle of the city. I'll come check on you tomorrow, okay?”

“Right. Okay.” Izaya hangs up then. He knows Shinra is right. He forces himself to the fridge, and he heats up the food Namie made the day before. He's nibbling at it, already feeling better when his phone rings again. It's Shiki, and he frowns, not understanding why Shiki is calling his personal phone and not his work phone.

“Hello, Shiki-san! What can I do for you?” Izaya answers.

“Izaya-san, I'm sorry,” Shiki says. “Are you home? Are you safe?”

“I'm fine. Yes, I'm home— Is something wrong?” Izaya asks. There's static for a moment, and then Shiki's voice is louder, and it sounds almost like Shiki is right next to him.

“We were worried about you. I'm glad you're safe.”

“We spoke yesterday, right?” Izaya asks. How much of that did he dream? Shiki sighs in his ear.

“Yes, but something has happened. Unfortunately, nothing could be done, and... Izaya-san, it's your sisters.”

“My sisters...” Izaya murmurs. He rubs at his head.

“They're dead.”

[brokenjardaantech]

the invisible price

for @nock-and-bolt.

summary:

earth is under attack. everyone is giving everything they can to defend the only home they have against an alien race called the collectors. but sometimes, the price we pay isn't easily seen or heard.

no knowledge on mass effect required to understand this fic.

part of the groom lake aftermath series.

also on ao3

---

[Josh, do you have a moment?]

Josh tears his eyes and mind away from the tactical map when he hears Rupert’s voice in his head. Rupert communicating with him is a common occurrence given Josh’s responsibility as the codex compiler and Rupert as one of their most efficient spies, but the other android wanting to talk to him directly is something rare and few in between, partly because there is no need, partly because Rupert isn’t exactly the most social person. Josh knows that his responsibility has been growing since Markus and North departed North America and started sailing across the Pacific to secure an alliance with the resistance in Hong Kong, but he looks at his growing to-do list and decides that he can afford a few moments with Rupert; talking to the people working for him and getting to know them better is the leader’s job, and now that Josh himself became the leader, the task falls onto him. {I’ll come to you,} he replies. {Stay where you are.}

[I’m not going anywhere.]

Josh takes note of the unusually harsh tone and calculates the probabilities while he ascends the stairs to the rookery on the topmost floor of the building they have occupied as their base of operations. While most humans have gone underground so that the Collectors can’t get to them as easily, the androids step forward to defend earth, taking advantage of the fact that the aliens don’t target synthetics, and now the surface is theirs. It will be a pain to negotiate with the humans once this is over - if they win the war against the Collectors, that is, the chance diminishing with every single moment Ryder needs to take to find out where exactly their enemies come from - but for now, as he steps foot into the vast space that is now a rookery, he is assaulted by the wind howling and sweeping through the unglazed windows, and he basks in the knowledge that everything within his sight belongs to androids and androids alone. Sitting on one of the windowsills with one of his legs dangling outside and surrounded by pigeons is Rupert, and somehow his hat hasn’t been blown off his head yet. It will be an interesting study if there isn’t a war affecting the entire globe going on, how it manages to stay on the other android’s head, and the puzzles and mazes covering the space from floor to ceiling will be good mind games as well.

Rupert speaks before Josh can ask him what this conversation is for. ‘Be honest, Josh,’ a pigeon lands on his open palm and he strokes its head. ‘Is my intel useful?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Josh doesn’t hesitate to answer. ‘You help us stay in touch with resistance forces from all around the world and collect intel from our allies and enemies. You even help us contact one another on mundane things unrelated to the resistance. Thanks to you, lives are saved and our morale is high. You’re important to us, Rupert,’ he doesn’t know how often Markus visits the android nor does he know how close the two of them are, but just in case Markus didn’t say it enough… ‘We won’t be standing here without your effort.’

Rupert’s snort surprises him. ‘“My” effort?’ he withdraws his leg from outside the window and turns until he is facing Josh with his back against the outside world. ‘I just sit here and wait for my birds to come back. I take off whatever is tied to their legs, dump the data to you, and I’m done.’

‘Still -’

‘You don’t understand!’ the sudden sharpness in his voice makes Josh’s thirium pump skip a bit. ‘I -’ Rupert claws at his head through his cap. ‘You don’t -’ he hops off the ledge. ‘Fuck!’

And suddenly he is standing in front of Josh holding out a skinless hand, a telltale sign that he wants to interface with him, but they aren’t close and interfaces are intimate things, one that is only shared between close friends or lovers, and they certainly aren’t familiar with each other enough to qualify -

‘I don’t know how I can tell you otherwise,’ Rupert grits. His voice is laced with static and his eyes are wet. ‘I know we’re talking about humanity’s survival here but…’ he turns away from Josh as suddenly as he closed the distance between them and squeezes his eyes shut. A tear slips through, evaporating quickly due to the strong wind, but a pale blue track remains on his face. ‘Forget it,’ he cradles his skinless hand close to his chest. ‘Everyone’s sacrificed something for this war. I’m not… I’m not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed this on you.’

‘You aren’t,’ Josh reassures him. ‘Is there a problem?’

Rupert’s skin reactivates over his hand. ‘Not as big as yours, I’d imagine.’

‘It seems to affect you a lot. If it’s big for you, it’s big enough for me considering how important you are to the resistance.’

He even extends his own hand in encouragement, and after a few seconds of hesitation Rupert grasps it, and Josh is pulled under.

Aliens. Aliens are supposed to be fictional. Not entirely impossible, but the universe is so big, so empty, and physics so slow and constraining, so the chances are low, but they’re here anyway with their bugs and lasers and gas, dragging humans off the streets and shooting anyone who dares to fight back. He runs, he doesn’t want to be shot, his birds need him. He runs and runs and runs until he receives a signal. A rendezvous point. A temporary sanctuary. A base of operations. A chance to fight back. 

An opportunity no one can afford to waste.

rA9 is there so everything will be okay. Simon is missing from his side. He doesn’t want to think about what happened to Simon. He doesn’t want to think about all the missing faces.

rA9 says they are fighting a war. 

rA9 says they need everything they want to give.

rA9 says they need to make sure that there is a humanity for ‘the alliance’ to return to, whoever they are.

So he offers his birds. His birds like him. His birds trust him. His birds are strong. His birds are healthy. His birds are smart. His birds know their way home. He read human books. He knows how useful his birds can be. 

rA9 is generous. 

rA9 gives him enough space to house his birds.

rA9 gives him everything he needs to train them to carry messages.

But rA9 doesn’t need to know how his birds use to fill the entire floor. rA9 doesn’t need to know they now barely cover half the space they have. rA9 doesn’t need to know most of his birds fall asleep forever after delivering a message from far, far away.

He stops taking care of his birds because he likes them. He stops feeding them because he wants to feed them. He stops naming them because he doesn’t want to know who died and who didn’t. Instead, he starts researching, he starts training his birds instead of letting them live their own lives, he starts breeding them when he realises that he needs more, he needs to fill the floor again, he needs all the birds he can get to help people fight the war. They can’t lose the war. They can’t die. They can’t lose everyone and everything. Not after fighting so hard for their freedom. Not after fighting so hard to be recognised as sentient beings.

He hates it. Everyone hates it. He knows because he reads the written messages. He knows it’s bad. He knows everyone is making their sacrifices, sacrifices much bigger than a few dozen birds, sacrifices much more painful than seeing some easily replaceable animals die. 

He doesn’t deserve to complain. 

He cannot complain. 

He will not complain. 

He will not burden rA9.

He needs to win.

He needs to live.

He hates the Collectors.

He hates what he is doing.

He hates himself.

He hates.

He hates.

HE HATES -

Rupert jerks away from Josh harshly and nearly steps on one of the pigeons on the floor. He refuses to look at Josh, and reaching out only causes the WB200 to recoil even further so Josh doesn’t push him. He dares not push him. Markus would know what to say, but Josh is no Markus, and he can only say, ‘You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We’ll understand.’

‘I know you do,’ Rupert retreats towards the window and sits on the ledge with one leg dangling outside once more. This time, when a pigeon lands on his knee, he doesn’t even touch it, and he turns his gaze towards the city outside. ‘I just wouldn’t know how to deal with myself if I’m not sitting here.’ When Josh doesn’t move, he adds, ‘Go on. I’m sure you have a resistance to lead. I’ll send you everything I’ve got whenever there’s an update.’

Josh has no choice but to leave, and as he returns to his usual post in front of the tactical map among his people, among the brave souls who are giving all they can to hold the line on the only home they have, he wonders what they have given up to be here, why exactly they are volunteering themselves, how they feel about this whole defending earth business. He may never know.

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.

[ashiversary]

Adaptability

Adaptability:

1. A pokemon ability that increases the power of moves of the same type as the user. Common species with this ability include porygon, basculin and eevee.

2. The ability to acclimatise efficiently and fast to changed circumstances

◊

The umbreon tent at the Opal City Eevee And Evolutions Event is a good place to be, Go thinks, even though it’s early. The darkness means it’s refreshingly cool compared to outside, the ‘dark night’ coffees sold by the door are both delicious and immensely caffeinated, and the newly-evolved Instinct umbreons are sleeping (for once) in relative silence. It’s so early, in fact, that there’s only one other guest in this row. They’re pretty short, with red hair, lots of piercings and wait a minute-

“Uh, Amelie?”

Her eye flicks briefly towards him.

“Hello, Go.”

Oh. Great. He turns to look at what she’s eyeing.

It’s a good specimen from a show perspective, Go can tell. The eyes are bright and cheri-red, the coat ink-black and glossy, and the thick gold bands from evolving under a full harvest moon have a soft but powerful glow. It’s a pretty attractive pokemon for a team who deal in stolen goods, so Go braces for a knee to the stomach and hopes someone will call for security before he hits the ground.

When a minute has passed with no attack he dares to crack an eye open to look at her.

“Picking good ones to steal later? They’re all tagged and chipped you know-”

“No.”

“Planning to steal the prize money?”

“Not really.”

“Then why are you here at an eevee convention?”

She fixes him with a look and- oh.

He’s suddenly very glad Spark stayed behind. Arceus only knows the carnage that would result from him, her boss and hundreds of eevee all in the same place.

Anyway, Go, focus.

There’s no members of the public admitted right now, but there’s still a handful of breeders primping their umbreons before the gates open, and although he’s got over a foot of height on her Go doesn’t think for a minute that’ll stop him from being handed his ass if things get dicey. (Amelie did focus solely on his uninjured side when they met after the last big fight though, so that was… thoughtful? Less brutal than the majority of Rocket?)

The point is, it’s early, there’s no high-level trainers anywhere nearby and a member of Team Rocket is next to him at an Eevee Exhibition. So what should he do?

Go shrugs.

“Want to get breakfast?”

“So,” Amelie asks when they’re sat near a food stand fifteen minutes later, “Why are you here?”

He shrugs, chasing the last pieces of tamato berry around the tray.

“Some of the special entrants in the main exhibition are from Instinct Hatcheries, like that flying-type eeveelution, the dual-type vaporeon and, uh… Dumpling the shiny kit? Do you know about him?”

She nods and - wait, of course she’ll know about Dumpling, given who her boss is. Go’s certain that despite the frequent recorded visits from Mystic One on file at the kit’s hatchery, Leader Blanche themself has never actually set foot in the place.

He continues, regardless. “Because of the ties Instinct have with a lot of the organizers, we- as in, high-ranking Instinct Trainers – got special passes for the event.”

Go’s not entirely sure why he got one, really. Okay, yes, his name is down on paper as Instinct Two, but he’ll be the first to admit that compared to any of Spark’s Elite Four he’s way behind. Why is he here again?

He’s always been good at rolling with the punches, though, literal or otherwise. He’s adaptable.

(In this job, with his boss, you need to be. Otherwise you just might not survive.)

◊

The theory goes:

A standard, purebred eevee with no external influences will evolve in accordance with its environment - one who lives wild by a lake and hunts for food in the water will tend towards vaporeon, habitats of warm homes as cherished pets create sylveon, those raised on spiritual sites or alongside psychics evolve into espeon (and everyone knows not to leave kits near the psychic Gym Leader of Saffron City unless, for whatever reason, you want a rambunctious feline unable to manage its considerable newfound strength back right after).

Even amongst the same species there are further physiological variations. The rare wild leafeon studied in arctic tundra environments have stubby near-black leaves with a waxy finish, slow metabolisms, and a secondary ice-typing. Amongst professional breeders and co-ordinators different leafeon with unusual foliage, such as delicate ornamental leaves or chubby cacti greenery, are a hit. The reigning Kalos Queen making an appearance even has an exquisite rose leafeon as her signature companion - far too finicky for the average trainer, too fragile for regular battling. And yet, much like a wild eevee and its evolution, it’s perfectly adapted for its current environment. 

(Go figure, Go thinks as he takes a high-speed rose to the face at the front of the crowd, Amelie looking suspiciously like she’s trying to hide a smile).

But the environment is only half the puzzle. If exposed to a standard water stone, a wild eevee will undergo rapid evolution into what most would consider a ‘classic’ vaporeon – neck frill, aqua blue colouring, finned tail - even if its habitat is a frozen plain or an electrified cave.

So, as Annie had explained to him over one of the few dinners Spark or Zapdos (is there a difference, really?) hadn’t been able to crash and burn, the leading theory is that the eevee ignores its previous adaptations and rapidly adjusts in order to cope with a sudden influx of energy the stone contains - similar to how other species can go years with no sign of pending evolution but then once exposed to the right conditions, boom, a distressed golem is now stuck in your bathroom. 

“Look,” she’d said, dragging out a tablet from her purse, “The main idea is the stone itself is a strong energy source – the eevee suddenly adapts to this exposure and the energy drives the evolution to completion in seconds, but because most of these stones are similar in chemical composition the final vaporeons are also pretty identical.”

Huh, he’d thought, so that’d been why Mystic had requested a large number of eevee kits a few months before, and why so many of their high-rank trainers had similar vaporeons on their teams now. He’d assumed it was just for the team aesthetic, really, but they must have been adopted out once the research programme had wrapped up.

Annie had continued, nearly knocking over her glass as she’d gestured at the screen.

“But then we’ve got to consider that items such as Razor Fangs and Claws are similar energy sources, or possibly catalysts. We now know certain stones and trading systems count as an energy source because of the thermodynamic profiles, but how does that link to items such as Reaper Cloths? Wild dusknoir and escavalier have to come from somewhere, Go!”

It had been interesting when he’d read over it later, after walking her home – or at least, back to Mystic HQ. Aside from cases such as nidorina and nidoqueen, Instinct typically ignore the evolution status of the pokemon used for breeding to focus mostly on IVs and moves, so browsing Annie’s notes had helped show a whole new side of the story, and they’re a lot easier for a novice to read than Leader Blanche’s, that’s for sure.

There was something similar to this topic in one of his college classes actually - a certain level of energy is required to allow a reaction to occur, catalysts open up different reaction pathways with lower energy requirements, if energy isn’t available from an external source then internal energy will be used instead, and so on. Currently known sources, according to Mystic research, include electromagnetic waves during trading, certain geological features, and – if the ongoing research on eevees is any indication - evolutionary stones as well. So now Annie’s research involves looking at possible wavelengths emitted, triggering the use certain items and further analysis of evolutionary stones. (He winces on Professor Willow’s behalf. Those items aren’t cheap, after all, and Go may no longer a completely-broke student but he won’t be casually dropping ₽10,000 on a stone that will never be anything but powder for a lab experiment.)

Annie always looks so animated when she talks about her research with Mystic One. Guess it helps to have a Team Leader who you really care for.

(Then again Spark, at least, doesn’t need constant reminders to eat or sleep.)

Speaking of which…

“Uh… Leader Blanche and Annie are supposed to be here today. Could you and your boss maybe not blow up the exhibition while we’re all here? Or start a fight? Or steal anything”

Amelie doesn’t even look up from the stall she’s examining. Out of all the locations to spend the morning at, personally Go wouldn’t have picked the shopping village – it’s not even ten in the morning now and it’s already a struggle to get through the crowds. Amelie, however, is both determined and terrifying - so here they are. 

“Mystic One is currently at their headquarters having overslept. Mystic Two is with them.”

Well that’s not at all creepy.

“How do you know that?” He demands.

“Carl told me.”

“Carl, as in-”

That stuck-up dick? is what Go wants to say, but his mouth finishes, “-Valor Two?”

“Yes. We’re acquainted.”

Typical. All said stuck-up dick apparently needs to drop the snobbish attitude, even for someone like Team Rocket, is a terrifying attitude and an above-average bra size. 

(That’s probably unfair, he reflects. There’s one key reason why the two of them will never get along and it’s five-foot-ten, host to a lightning titan and drinks Go’s milk straight from the carton.)

“It’s in everyone’s best interest for there to be no fighting today, don’t you agree? Three of each, please.” Amelie directs the last part at the hovering sales assistant, guarding the stock with the tenacity of a stoutland and the attitude of a houndoom.

Honestly, Go thinks, simultaneously watching the assistant bag all the items and trying to read the labels upside-down at the same time as they’re packed, Carl and Amelie knowing each other well isn’t a bad thing. Especially given the animosity between her boss and Leader Candela - and their combined talents at causing significant property damage.

“Limited Edition Eevee Family… are these socks?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

 “You came all the way to a massive eevee exhibition… to buy yourself socks?”

He looks back at the packaging, the front home to a model in frills sporting sylveon thigh-highs and not much else.

Don’t think about her wearing them, don’t think about her wearing them-

Too late. It’s an amazing image though.

“They’re not for me. I’m here to get them for someone who couldn’t make it.” Amelie says, like she can read minds. Or maybe it was pretty obvious what he was (completely involuntarily!) thinking of.

Hang on, given that there’s one person he knows of who can make Amelie get up at the crack of dawn and wears eevee paraphernalia obsessively…

“So… your boss isn’t here today?”

There’s an unnaturally long pause.

“No,” Amelie finally says. It’s hard to tell with someone as serious as her but for a moment, Go thinks, it looks like she wants to say something more. “No, they’re not.”

“So you did come all this way just for socks?”

She shrugs.

“Lief is also thinking about breeding an eevee-cross meowth at some point, so he’s looking at possible studs as well.”

“Lief?”

“You’ve met him. Green hair, crossbred persians, kicked you in the face last month at the pier?”

Oh yeah, he remembers now. He really needs to try and run into people who are less violent, he thinks.

Amelie takes her receipt and turns to face him. “I’ll see you around, Go.”

“Uh, is it bad if I hope that’s not any time soon?”

He gets a whole smile for that.

[cecilspeaks]

159 - Cat Show

Be the annoying goose you want to see in the world. Welcome to Night Vale. 

This day was foretold and now it is here. Some doubted it would come, but the signs were clear. And I could not be more excited! It’s the annual Night Vale cat show. [laughs] I know, I rarely report on this event, but this year, I finally entered my own cat, Khoshekh, into the contest. Many of you remember that I found Khoshekh 7 years ago. He was floating 4 feet off the ground in the men’s restroom here at the radio station, and he’s still in that exact same spot, cute as ever with his furry little white paws! And elegant little black tail, and just the floofiest tentacles you could ever see.

My husband and I adore cats! We’re always ranking them, because love is above all else a competition. So we figured we should put Koshekh out there for an objective ruling on our own beliefs that he is the best cat in the world! It should be an easy win for our little boy, especially with the home field advantage. Koshekh is stuck in a fixed point in space, and the cat show is being held here at the radio station to accommodate his condition. Station Management is a bit unhappy about this, because they’re terribly allergic to cats. All morning, as the cat show organizers and competing cats have arrived, I have felt the sneezes of Station Management from deep below the surface of the Earth where they have burrowed into the warm, molten core of our dying planet.

I sent our new intern Simon Peterson out to pick up some Benadryl for the bosses, and he did, but now he’s having trouble navigating the 16 inch wide rocky tunnel Station Management dug into the break room, and Simon keeps saying he’s claustrophobic and that his greatest fear is to be stuck in a dark place where the long spindly arms touch and prod his feet, but he cannot see them. And even if he could, he would not comprehend them. Ad n the prickly limbs grab at him with increasing desperation and he does not scream, because he knows no one will hear him except the inscrutable.. thing that is now tearing open the skin along the bottom of his feet. And I was like Simon, this office is a no excuses zone, so get in that tunnel and do your job.

More on the cat show soon, but first the news. Strange men arrived in town today. They were wearing suits and carrying briefcases. They drove a black sedan. One of them wore sunglasses. They claimed to be from Washington DC from an agency called the National Transportation Safety Board. They were inquiring about a missing plane. The strange men, one of them had a blister on his upper lip, met with Sheriff Sam, and told them that on June 15, 2012, Delta flight 18713 from Detroit Mistigan to Albany New York disappeared. The NTSB still has not found the MT-90 aircraft. The men told Sheriff Sam that for many years, the agency believed the flight to have gone down in Lake Erie. Sheriff Sam laughed at this silly fake name for a lake and told the men – one of them had a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger –that they must be remembering some spooky young adult novel, rather than a real life event. The strange men – one of them had an unceasing nose bleed – said it was in fact true. They said that they recently found a report indicating that right before Flight 18713 vanished from radar, it was detected all the way down in the southwest United States, right here in Night Vale. “How is that possible?” the strange men asked our Sheriff. Sheriff Sam stopped laughing and said: “I know the plane. Or rather, I know someone who saw that plane. His name is Doug, Doug Biondi.” The strange men – one of them wore three wedding rings – nodded and said: “Take us to Doug.” Sheriff Sam said: “Doug is in the Night Vale asylum. He is dangerous. He is not allowed visitors. But…” and Sheriff Sam leaned forward, clasping their hands together across the desk and continued in a hush town: “I… could… assist… in an undercover operation. Disguise you all as new inmates, treacherous psychopaths who must be kept in lockdown in the world’s highest security mental hospital. Then, then… you would be able to interview Doug Biondi about what he saw that day in the elementary school gym.” And the strange men – one of them was weeping thick yellow tears – agreed that this was a great idea, and set out with the Sheriff to the asylum, deep within the Scrublands, to begin their covert investigation. I’m sure those strange men from the NTSB will emerge soon with a full report. More on this story as it develops.

But I have to get back – to the Cat shooooow! [excited] Oh ho ho, [gasps] so many cats have arrived! [laughs] Th-there are cages and carriers full of sweet kitties all over the station! Representing all four breeds of cat: long haired, short haired, smushyfaced and miscellaneous. When I was filling out the entry forms for Khoshekh, they asked me this breed, and he’s definitely smushyfaced, but also long haired although he’s short haired along his coddlespine and pincers, soooooo… miscellaneous? I guessed. Also they wanted Khoshekh’s last name, and I have never thought of a last name for our cat. Huh. I told Carlos we should put his last name as Khoshekh’s last name, because Carlos has a much more interesting last name than me. Plus Carlos is pretty well known and very well liked in town. Everybody knows his last name, and I thought that might carry some political weight in the minds of the judges. But Carlos insisted that we use mine, because I found Khoshekh and I adopted him. So there you go, little kitty. You are Khoshekh Gershwin Palmer. A champion name for a champion cat.

Let’s have a look now at the community calendar. This Friday night is the Tour of Lights in Old Town Night Vale. Participants can meet at Galway and 1st at 7 PM, where a tractor pulling a trailer full of hay will drive you around to look at the bright and festive holiday lights adorning the various historic homes. Last year’s favorite, the Victorian mansion owned by Harrison Kip, included a 40-foot tall Santa, his arms outstretched overseeing a vast army of toiling elves, while an old Victrola played “Ave Maria” over crackling speakers and clowns leapt suddenly from the thick shrubs, handing unsuspecting but delighted guests red and blue balloons shaped by long dead family members. Tickets are five dollars and go to support the Bilderberg Group.

Saturday evening is the bi-monthly pub crawl in downtown Night Vale. Every eight weeks or so, every bar in town becomes overrun with 7 inch long bugs that look like… a bit like earwigs but with human faces. All participating bars and pubs are offering two for one specials on well drinks and bottled domestics.

Sunday afternoon, the Tamika Flynn book club will be meeting to discuss their most recent book, the 2018 Husqvarna YTH-24K 14-inch riding mower owner’s manual. This month’s book was chosen by John Peters – you know, the farmer? They’ll be discussing the themes, symbolism and subtext of this seminal work of contemporary technical literature. The book club is open to anyone and there will be a potluck benefit.

Monday is running a few minutes late, but wants everyone to know we can go ahead and start without it.

The cat show is finally underway and wow! What a sight! I’ve never actually been to a cat show before today, it is, it’s fascinating! So, the judges take each cat one at a time. They hold up the cat’s tail to examine its posture and form. Then they pry open the cat’s mouth to check its teeth. Then four judges hold each of the cat’s paws and stretch it out into a furry X, as a fifth judge measures the cat’s latitudinal, longitudinal and diagonal lengths. I’m surprised at how gentle these cats are with all this rough handling. Khoshekh – [scoffs] Khoshekh usually tries to bite me or-or sting me when I feed him, and I appreciate that about him. It’s hard to respect a cat that would let any stranger look it directly in the eyes, let alone touch it. People sometimes think cats will behave obediently and chummily, like dogs, but cats are individualistic. They show love, yes, but it is conditional and judgmental. You must give a cat space to learn its environment and develop its own social rules. Plus those pincers really hurt! The cats they’re showing right now are really cute, but it’s [sighs], it’s hard to respect them, like the way they let these judges just treat them like slabs of meat. [shouts angrily] Stand up for yourselves, you glorified sock puppets!

Oh, I’m getting some nasty looks from the judges and other contestants. Good, good. (-) [0:12:26] is important in contact sports. Let them know who’s the front runner.

Amber Akini and her husband Wilson Levy are showing their cat now, a tiny fist-sized orange and white shorthair named Berthold. Berthold might be my second favorite cat, behind Khoshekh of course, because he’s a - oh, oh what to call that kind of cat with extra appendages the poly.. polydactyl, polydactyl, that’s it. Anyway, Berthold is a polydactyl cat. He has eight legs and a mesmerizing array of shiny black eyes covering his cute little face. I’m not so sure Berthold has much of a chance of winning, though. Because when the judges tried to check his teeth, he skittered up the wall and won’t come back from the web he built up there. Ah, well now Susan Willman is showing her cat. He’s a scraggy, but otherwise basic tabby with dirty teeth like Spanish rice and the sunken posture of a playground swing. Oh I didn’t catch his name, although it sounded like she called Dumpster. [chuckles] [low voice] Not a chance, loser.

OK, oh wait. The judges are all wide-eyed and cooing over Dumpster, like he’s a rare bejeweled artefact. Wait, they’re nodding to each other as if they’re impressed. I don’t get this! He’s a trash cat. That’s why she named him Dumpster of, knowing Susan, maybe that’s a family name. Ooh ho-ho! Oh, I’m getting a shush sign from the judges, and Susan is glaring at me. [chuckles] I had no idea how political this cat show would be. What a racket.

Let’s have a look now at traffic. There’s a slowdown on westbound lanes of Route 800 near Exit 19. There is no construction or accident. Highway patrol said that everyone on that side of the road simply started thinking about Urinus and giggling. Every single driver, simultaneously, remembered how the name of that planet always made them laugh in school. Scientists want to study Urinus. They thought it wants really probe the dense noxious clouds covering the rocky surface of Urinus. They considered in unison, their ruddy cheeks quaking above sore jaws and below tear-filled crackling eyes: scientists think the pressure inside Urinus is so great that here may be diamonds inside Urinus. The drivers all howled, the audible din enough to slow even the eastbound lanes, who were trying to think of a single funny thing about Saturn, but could not. I’m not sure I get why any of that is funny. But expect westbound delays of 20 minutes or take an alternative route.

It’s the big moment, listeners. The judges are visiting Khoshekh right now in the men’s restroom. I tried to tell them to use hazmat gloves, but they sneered and said: “We know how to handle cats, sir.” OK, they are professional arbiters of all things feline, so I believe them. They’re holding up Khoshekh’s tails right now, examining his nacreous scales. They brought in two other judges to try to hold Khoshekh’s tentacles down because, well he keeps trying to grab at the main judge’s face as the judge attempts to examine Khoshekh’s teeth. Oh, I wonder if they’ll deduct points for Khoshekh having more teeth than a normal cat. I mean he has five rows of them. OH, oh! Oh no. Ohhh, the judges are not controlling this situation well at all, Khoshekh has wrapped up all of the jduges in his many spiraling suctioned arms. They’re struggling to break free, but those tentacles secrete a sedative oil and the judges are wobbling.. They’re passing out, yup, not good. Every single judge is unconscious, and now Khoshekh is wildly flapping his wings and, while I cannot hear it I can tell, he is emitting a shriek that only other cats can hear. He does this when he’s upset. OH, there’s Berthold coming down from the safe haven of his web. There’s Dumpster, hollow-eyed and purring, waling toward Khoshekh. And all the other cats are coming too. Their mouths agape, emitting I m sure the the same ultrasonic tone, a harmon of protest, of uprising, of bloodthirst. They’re gathering now in the men’s room, eyes glowing, all slack-jawed and silent screaming at the sky. On yeah, the other pet owners are sobbing and they’re running for the exist, but they know they cannot leave. They would not leave even if they could. It is silent now in the station safe for the panting exhaustion of frightened human owners, and the strained wheezing breaths of unconscious cat show judges. I think Carlos and I have a great shot at winning this thing, listeners. an announcement of a champion coming soon!

But first, The weather.

[”Weather: “Fuzzy Disco” by Talkie https://talkie.bandcamp.com]

The judges woke up, but they no longer speak in English nor any human language. They are licking themselves and eating moths that they caught by the single swinging light bulb in our radio station’s interrogation room. Their brains are feral and feline now, as they hide under tables and hiss at the other cat owners. I tried to warn them about using hazmat gloves, but they didn’t wanna hear me. [big gasp] Or maybe they did! Perhaps this was their gambit all along, I mean this is after all my first cat show, I don’t wanna pretend like I know how these things go. No winners were announced. The judges joined the high-pitched catervauling of the other cats. And then they all left in a unified clatter, out the men’s room window and into the street. I can see them now, running toward the alley behind the CVS, several other cats joining their ranks, all except - Khoshekh, who cannot leave his spot in the station restroom. Four feet in the air.

I told Khoshekh that he’s a winner in my mind, and I put on my thick rubber gear and gently stroked his smushed little face! [giggles] Right between his middle two eyes! Huh. It’s hard to tell what cats are thinking or feeling, but I think Khoshekh is happy. He’s happy to have such a loving home and two doting dads. But something in his eyes tells me he wanted to run free with his new cat friends. I gave him a catnip plushie though, and he looks content, if a little coked up.

Stay tuned next for a noise you cannot hear, rallying a feral insurrection.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Wanna feel old? Don’t worry, you will.

[isitgintimeyet]

Letting Go

AO3

Previous

Thanks for your comments and support for this new story. I really appreciate it.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge and @happytoobservenolongerdistant

Chapter 2: Homeward Bound

And each town looks the same to me The movies and the factories And every stranger's face I see Remind me that I long to be Homeward bound I wish I was Homeward bound

Simon and Garfunkel

The subdued ping indicated that the captain had switched the seatbelt sign off and it was safe to walk around the cabin. Not that Jamie had any intention of doing that. The luxury of a business class seat meant that for once, he didn’t have to spend the entire flight with his legs folded and his shoulders hunched, trying to somehow fit into the space allocated to an economy passenger. No, for this entire flight, he planned on stretching out on his wonderfully reclining seat as much as possible, preferably with a glass in his hand.

He sipped his glass of champagne and wiggled his toes appreciatively, now clad in the soft sleep socks provided by the airline. The business class ticket from Dulles back to the UK was an indulgence, but, for once, Jamie felt he deserved it. Eight years he’d been away in America. Eight years with only fleeting trips home, little time to spend with his sister and her ever-expanding family. But the breeding programme he’d been working on in Kentucky was now inextricably linked with the breeding at the Lallybroch stables, providing much needed stability for the Fraser family business. The time was finally right for him to return home, back to Lallybroch for good.

His father’s heart attack, six months before, had made Jamie realise how much he was missing and how much he wanted to come home. Although his father was now making a good recovery, Jamie’s stomach turned over as he remembered the panicked phone call from his sister Jenny in the middle of the night and the mad dash to the airport for a plane, any plane to bring him across the Atlantic and then to Scotland. That heart attack had been a bolt from the blue, catching the whole family unawares.

Jamie’s mind began to wander. If things had been different, maybe she might have picked up some symptoms, detected the heart problem earlier. No... he stopped his traitorous mind from going down that path.

Accepting a top up of champagne from the passing steward, Jamie thought about his plans. Once he’d caught up with his family, he knew he had to spend time reconnecting with his old friends. He had kept in touch over the years -- emails, the odd FaceTime conversation, a fleeting visit -- but it was never the same as actually being around all the time, dropping by for a coffee, a quick pint or dram in the pub, making last minute plans for a run. He had a lot of time to make up.

There was one connection from eight years ago that Jamie knew he would not be looking to reestablish. When he first arrived in America, he thought about her all the time. He lived in a state of expectation, convinced she would ring or email, admitting she had made a mistake and would come to him. He caught glimpses of her in every crowd, only to be disappointed when he got closer. As time went by, his disillusionment grew until he finally accepted she would not be reaching out to him. So he trained himself never to think about her, never to wonder what she was doing, never to ponder on what might have been. And if, after a couple of drinks, he found himself tempted to Google her name or search through social media, he quickly sought out alternative diversions.

There had been a few alternative diversions during Jamie’s time in America. All very willing and pleasant enough, but ultimately very one-sided. Each one ended with no regret or sense of loss on his part. His heart had healed nicely and he intended to keep it that way.

As the cabin lights dimmed, Jamie pulled the blanket over him and settled down for a nap. As he was pulled deeper and deeper into sleep his mind wandered, random images crowding his brain… horses in a field… his father relaxing in his study… light reflecting through a whisky tumbler… being put to bed drunk… the scent of lavender hand cream… soft hands against his cheek… a mop of brown curls on the pillow next to him…

Awake, Jamie could stamp out these thoughts, prevent them from taking root, but asleep, well, his mind would not let him forget.

*************

Claire had been pleased but not a bit surprised by Mrs. Fitz’s powers of persuasion. A little chat with Lamb over a couple of cups of her cherished Fortnum and Mason Royal Blend tea, poured from the Royal Palaces bone china teapot (purchased on a recent trip to Kensington Palace) had convinced him to rent out the house for a maximum of two years, at which time his finances should have returned to a healthier position.

With that battle won, Claire then encouraged her uncle to contact all the creditors and agree monthly repayment plans. All this was dependent, of course, on finding tenants for the house.

Although she decided not to say anything to Lamb, she was still worried. Their house, even in an appealing suburb of Glasgow, was an acquired taste. On the one hand, the high ceilings, elegant sash windows and very large garden would be attractive to prospective tenants, but the downside was the sheer size of the six bedroomed Edwardian villa and its associated running costs. It was true what she had told him, most of the similar properties in the vicinity had been converted into blocks of flats frequented by young professionals. She still believed the logical decision was to sell. However, that was not her choice to make.

The reaction of the letting agent did not inspire confidence either. After he was shown around the entire house, making copious notes and taking many pictures on his phone all the while, Claire waited patiently while he appeared lost in thought, contemplatively sucking air through his teeth. Finally, he quoted a figure suitable for monthly rental before issuing a caveat.

“Ye ken, this may no’ be that easy tae rent out. It’s an awfa big house, sae many bedrooms. Would mebbe suit a family wi’ five or six bairns, and ye dinna see many of those around these days.” He sighed. “We’ll do our best… but would ye no’ consider selling? There are builders who would jump at the chance tae own a property like this.”

Claire smiled, her most reassuring smile guaranteed to calm the nerves of patients and their loved ones. “I’m sure you’ll do your best, Mr. Shand. I have every confidence in you.”

********

Claire’s confidence seemed to be misplaced. A fortnight went by before she heard from Mr. Shand again. She was at her desk dictating patient letters when Mr. Shand rang her with an update.

“Ms Beauchamp, jes’ tae give ye some news,” he began. “I have had some interest in yer house and I’m arranging a viewing. I dinna ken if ye wanted tae show them around or leave it tae me?”

“Well, if I’m free I’d be more than happy to do it. Depends when it is.” Claire reached for her large desk diary.

“They said they would like tae view this Saturday, afore the rugby if possible.”

Claire flicked to the page. “That seems to be fine with me. Who are they? Is it a large family?”

She could hear Mr. Shand flicking through papers in the background. “Weel, no. It’s jes’ a couple. What drew them tae yer house is the garden. They have been living abroad for a few years but are returning home and want a place near the city centre but wi’ a bit of green about them. Perhaps they feel they will miss the wide open spaces, ye ken. Anyway, I believe they are no’ long married. Their name… Fraser… Mr. And Mrs. Fraser.”

Suddenly Claire felt the contents of her stomach rising up. Swallowing hard to quell the nausea, the phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Scrambling to retrieve it with fingers refusing to cooperate, she could hear Mr. Shand calling her name.

Breathlessly, she managed to pick the phone up and speak, her voice hoarse. “Sorry, Mr. Shand, I just dropped my phone. I’m sorry, I was looking at the wrong date. I’m afraid I won’t be at home on Saturday after all. Sorry, could you do the honours?” She cringed at her repeated apologies.

Claire folded her arms on her desk and rested her head on them, trying to calm her breathing. For god’s sake, it had been eight years, she would not have expected him to remain celibate. Getting married was not unusual and it would no doubt make bringing a partner to live here much easier from an immigration point of view. But did he not recognise the address? Had he forgotten all about her, or did he just not care?

Sitting up straight, she tried to think logically, not jump to conclusions. She lived in Scotland, where the surname Fraser was not exactly rare. There must be thousands of couples with that name. It wouldn’t be her Fraser.

Claire had not even thought about him in the past few years. Gone were the days when she lay in bed longing for his touch, sleeping with her phone on the pillow in case he rang to apologise. Her heart never skipped a beat when she caught a glimpse of fiery red hair in a crowd of people. She never found herself religiously watching Scottish rugby matches wondering if, across the Atlantic Ocean, someone else was watching too. She only kept his faded old rugby shirt because it was so comfortable to sleep in… there was no other reason at all.

Claire was a honest person, she prided herself on it. And she was… very honest… at work, with friends, with her uncle.

The only person she regularly lied to was herself.

[nickscxtch]

SMITTEN  ღ CHAPTER TWO

< chapter one

The academy had students from all over the world, and familiars were not permitted. Familiars were also goblins that took the form of animals to best help their witch masters. My mother's was a husky named Wolf. Classes like Herbalism and Latin can be curriculum majors, and students can choose what they wanted to study. Classes like Conjuring could only be taken once the Academy's general requirements were met.

That was information hurdled at me by my mother as she checked my bags to make sure I didn't forget anything.

The exterior of the school was Gehenna Station, and my mother accompanied me so she could introduce me to Father Blackwood.

"Also, my darling," she said before we entered. "If you happen to meet someone by the last name of Spellman, do try make friends. It was because of a Spellman that your father and I were allowed to be wed."

I was confused by the statement. She never really talked about the comings about of their marriage. I knew that witches and mortal were supposed to be separated, but the main part about witch life that my mother still spoke about would be her slang and her life at the academy.

We walked through the doors, and she looked around with a fond smile on her face.

"The academy was built according to the principles of sacred geometry," she said. "Each room is a perfectly proportioned pentagon that locks with the one next to it. No one knows how many pentagons there are, exactly, some say an infinite number."

We made it to a room where there was a statue of what my mother had shown me to be the Dark Lord, and two little children statues, a girl and a boy, looking up at him.

We entered Faustus Blackwood's office. He was the headmaster as well as the High Priest.

"Welcome to the Academy of Unseen Arts, Miss Hart, Mrs. Hart," he greeted my mother and I. "It's nice to see you here, being a full-time student after your signing of the Book of the Beast."

He handed me a paper, and said, "I've prepared your schedule. I hope they are to your liking."

I tried not to laugh with the way he pronounced "schedule", but he raised an eyebrow in question anyways, having noticed my amusement. He dismissed it while I looked over the classes.

I thought they were all appropriate, basic level classes for a witch who rarely even used her magic in her sixteen years of living. Of course, some incantations here and there, helping Archie and the gang solve the mysteries of Riverdale without them noticing what I was doing. I think that might also be a reason my mother sent me away, she thought I was too reckless, and that I would get the Riverdale and Greendale witches exposed.

"All is good?" he asked after a moment.

"All is perfect," I said.

He looked at his pocket watch and said, "Good. Mrs. Hart, if you would excuse your daughter and I, I'll take her to class and give her a tour."

"As long as the previous decision we discussed is still the same?" she asked, and I looked at her confused, but she gave me a 'don't ask' expression, so I didn't.

"Of course, anything for you, Esme," Faustus nodded to my mother. "If only the other child could be so willing the way yours is."

Again, confused.

My mother nodded, and she hugged me. She put her hands around my face and said, "Do have a good time here, darling. I had some of my best memories at this Academy. Welcome to the Path of Night, my dear. We're just a town over if you need some lovin', but do try to make some friends here first."

━━━━━━━ღ━━━━━━━

At lunch, I went back to my new bedroom. I didn't have a roommate, which made me happy enough, and I was yet to make any friends. Most people in my classes didn't pay any attention to me, which I was glad about. I thought that I would draw eyes because of the whole "half-breed" thing, but no one's even mentioned it.

I thought it was probably best to start unpacking as soon as possible. I opened my suitcase and there it was, the thing Archie asked me to take with me before I left: his varsity jacket with an R on the front to represent Riverdale High. He gave me it as a way to have him close, even though technically he was. The academy was in Greendale.

There was a knock, and I shouted a "come in" on reflex, as if I was back home and my father was behind the door. The door opened and the person leaned against the archway. I furrowed my eyebrows when I realized it was a boy with a slightly tanned complexion, dark brown hair side swept and a little wavy at the front, dressed in all black except for his white collar. If I wasn't so entranced with the randomness of him, maybe I would've noticed the fact that he had a baby face or the mole on his neck. Maybe.

"Hi," he said.

"Um, hi," I replied, standing up from my bed with the jacket in my hand. "Come in?"

He looked at the jacket, and I set it down. He took slow steps towards me, holding two trays of food.

"I saw that you came straight here, we have choir together," he said. "So I thought I'd grab you lunch, and I asked Father Blackwood which dorm you were in, sorry if this is creepy."

He hadn't even told me his name yet, and he was here bringing me food. I guess I didn't go as unnoticed as I thought.

"Thanks," I said, trailing off at the end because I didn't know his name, taking the tray from him and setting it on my bed next to the jacket.

"Nicholas, Nick, Scratch," he said, using his free hand to shake mine.

"Annalise, Annali, Hart," I said, shaking his with a smile.

"Anna-lee," he said, nodding as he overly pronounced it. "That's a cute nickname for a cute girl."

"Ah, he's a flirt," I said, sitting down on my bed and putting the tray in my lap. "And that's probably why he's here."

"No, no," he said, sitting down next to me. "I'm here because you're new here, and I don't like it when people are lonely in a place full of people."

"Ah, a flirt and a sweetheart," I said, patting his head.

"Normally, I'd be offended that I was just patted like a dog," he said, but then he nodded with an approving pout. "But I think it's adorable coming from you."

"Shut it, Scratch, that's enough charm for one day," I told him, laughing.

I didn't think much of his words, assuming that flirtatiousness was just one of his personality traits. It fit him, too, because he had a very mysterious aura and a flirty smile.

I think this one would make a great friend.

He motioned to the jacket with his head. "Riverdale High?"

"You know it?" I asked.

"I've heard about it. I've done some research on the mortal schools, Riverdale, Baxter, just for fun, I guess. I don't really leave the academy often, but it's interesting seeing what the mortals do for fun," he shrugged as I started to eat whatever food this academy served.

Definitely going home soon for home cooked meals.

"Did you do sports over there?" he asked.

"My best friend, Archie, he's a football player," I replied.

"Are you smitten for him?" he asked.

I laughed. "Who says smitten anymore?"

"Don't avoid the question."

I shook my head, and said, "No. Not for Archie Andrews."

"For anyone?"

"Nah."

Curious as to why no one's made half-breed comments about me, I asked slowly, "Have you heard about any half-witches, half-mortals?"

He nodded, and I thought he was going to say me, but instead, he said, "Sabrina Spellman? Everyone's heard of her. The daughter of the best conjurer ever, the great Edward Spellman, who chose his love of a mortal over being High Priest, which in my opinion, was really cute even though I don't understand the concept of actually loving. Witches don't really fall in love, so I don't know what any of that felt like. Sabrina doesn't go here, none of us have met her. She doesn't have her dark baptism until Halloween because that's when she turns 16."

Spellman? I wondered, thinking of when I heard the last name. I recalled when my mom told me to befriend anyone named Spellman because it was because of a Spellman, whom I am assuming is this Edward guy, that led to my parents being allowed to be together.

So, there was another half-witch, and her name was Sabrina. How come it was that everyone knew about her, but no one knew about me?

chapter three >

[sandyferal]

The Vacation part 7

Not much but eh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“What is this stuff?”

Bushroot looked up at Liquidator’s question.

It was late, and the two were now the only ones awake. A few hours after they had arrived back Quackerjack had finally pulled Megavolt to bed, leaving the two mutants awake on their own.

Liquidator was looking at himself curiously. One of his arms had been severely tinted green.

“It’s been this color ever since we visited the fountain,” Liquidator said.

“You mean ever since we robbed it.”

“Reggie, when it comes to us, there’s seldom a difference.” Bud let the green tinted arm drip off his body, then sprouted another limb in its place.

“Y’know, you might not want to let that stuff go,” Bushroot said. “It’s actually kind of valuable.”

Bud’s ears perked up. “It is?”

“Yeah,” Bushroot said. “I mean I was going to mention it at the fountain but I got interrupted! It said on one of the signs that there’s a rare breed of algae in that fountain that turns it that color. People used to think it had healing powers, part of the reason no one is supposed to touch the fountain.”

Bushroot could almost see the thoughts forming in the canine’s mind.

“Oh geez,” Bushroot said.

“Reggie, I think I have an idea!”

“I can see that.”

Bud grabbed the trench coat and hat that Bushroot had left on the floor earlier. “I’m going to head out for a bit, but I’ll be back before you know it!”

“Do you have to?”

Bud frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, we kinda got a good thing going here. No one knows we’re here, no one is looking for us, there’s no Negaduck,” Bushroot said. “Maybe we should just try to enjoy ourselves for a bit?”

“This is how I enjoy myself Reggie,” Bud said. “Do you just miss having a normal life Reginald?”

Bushroot sighed. “I wasn’t really trying to say that but I guess? It’s just, it’s our first day here and we already started doing all these little things. Can we just go a little while without doing some sort of petty crime or scheme?”

“I think when you’ve been a criminal for so long breaking the law just becomes a bit of a habit,” Bud said.

“Not for me.”

“Yes,” Bud said with a smirk. “You don’t have a habit of breaking the law, you just have a habit of breaking the laws of nature for your own personal gain. That’s completely different.”

“It is!” Bushroot said. “My experiments don’t hurt anyone… intentionally… I mean at least not people who don’t deserve-but that’s besides the point!”

“I get it Reggie,” Bud said. “But hey I promise that I won’t let this get too out of hand. Just one little scheme and then I guarantee that the Liquidator will be on his best behavior for a while!”

“Why do I somehow not believe you?” Bushroot sighed. “But go ahead, it’s not like I can stop you.”

“Listen I’ll be in disguise, no one will recognize me.” Liquidator planted a quick kiss on Bushroot’s cheek. “This won’t get in the way of you relaxing or my name isn’t Bud Flood!!”

With that, he left through the window.

…

“Spaaarky…”

Megavolt grumbled and rolled over.

“Hey Sparky!”

He felt himself being gently shaken for a few moments. Then he heard the creaking of springs. Suddenly the bed beneath him began to shake and before he knew what was happening he’d fallen onto the floor.

“Quackerjaaack!” Megavolt groaned, peeling himself off the floor. “You could’ve just turned on a light or something.”

“The lights are on plughead,” Quackerjack said. “You still wouldn’t wake up!”

Mumbling to himself, Megavolt opened his eyes to see Quackerjack was right. He couldn’t make anything out, but it was very bright. With his hands he began searching for the bedside drawer, only to have his eyewear slipped into his fingers by Quackerjack.

“Thanks,” he said absentmindedly as he placed them on his face.

“Y’know Sparky, it’s not fun for me either when I have to be the one to keep dragging you in and out of bed,” Quackerjack said.

“Then don’t,” Megavolt said.

“Well if I didn’t you’d be asleep all day!”

Megavolt yawned and stood. He made his way out of the room, Quackerjack following him closely.

“Well there’s other people here,” Megavolt said. “Why don’t you go bother Liqui or plant...head… ugh I can’t make good insults right now.”

“Well they’re both gone. Besides I always prefer bothering you.”

Megavolt smiled to himself. “I’m sure you do.” As he said this he walked over to the kitchen where there was a single fork lying on the empty counter. Taking it, he made his way over to a electrical socket, and stuck the fork in.

Immediately a surge of electricity shot through him. When it was over he stretched and shook himself out.

“Oh yeah!” Megavolt grinned. “That’s the good stuff!”

“Maybe I should get a taser and shock you every morning. I bet that’d be an easier way to wake you up,” Quackerjack said.

“Did we not get one?” Megavolt asked. “I thought we had something that one time?”

“We had a cattle prod and a joy buzzer,” Quackerjack said. He giggled. “But those weren’t exactly used for waking you up.”

“Oh yeah.” Megavolt looked around. Then something clicked in his brain. “Hey where are the others?”

“I just told you Sparky, they’re not here!” Quackerjack said. “They’ve both been outside for a while.”

“What are they doing?”

…

Bushroot watched the crowd of people surrounding the small stand from the shade of a nearby tree. If there was one thing he admired about his partner, it was his uncanny ability to draw people in.

“Only a thousand dollars a piece!” Liquidator’s voice rang out from across the street. “Quite a bargain for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“Wow, he really does love scamming people doesn’t he?”

Bushroot looked around and saw Megavolt approaching, with Quackerjack trailing alongside him.

“That’s an understatement,” Bushroot said. “He’s been at this for hours.”

“And you’ve just been watching him this whole time?” Megavolt asked.

“Yeah,” Bushroot said, not taking his eyes off the crowded stand. “He’s kinda fascinating. D-did you know, it only took him ten minutes to get a crowd of over forty people? It’s been three hours and the crowd has only gotten bigger. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Yeesh, you’re talking like it’s magic,” Quackerjack said, his face darker than usual. “I’ve seen it before. Guys who talk big draw in the crowds to buy their bullshit, while everyone starts to ignore the actually interesting ideas. It’s nothing special.”

“Yeah…” Megavolt looked at Quackerjack quizzically. “Well I wouldn’t have gone that much into it. But yeah, he’s just selling… what is he selling again?”

“The water from the fountain,” Bushroot said. “It’s worth a lot of money.”

“It is?” Quackerjack asked. “And you didn’t tell us?!”

“Oh I tried to, but you interrupted me!” Bushroot said.

“Hey, let's not point any fingers,” Quackerjack said. “But I can’t believe all those saps are paying a thousand dollars for water from a crummy old fountain.”

“Well it does contain Chlariaphyta, a very rare species of algae that’s known for being used in some forms of medicine. That’s probably why people thought the water had healing properties back in… in the…” Bushroot trailed off, realizing that he was overexplaining again. “Anyway, my point is that it’s-it’s actually kinda valuable for a good reason.”

“Right, well unless I was an aquatic plant enthusiast, I still wouldn’t think it’s worth that much for fountain water, algae or no algae,” Megavolt said.

“You wanna go somewhere else until waterboy gets done with his little sale, or are you going to keep staring at him for a few more hours?” Quackerjack asked.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit. Just to make sure nothing goes wrong since it’s technically illegal to even touch the fountain, which makes it definitely illegal to sell the water,” Bushroot said. “Besides, I have to keep all these layers on to make sure no one recognizes me and the only thing keeping me from sweating to death is the shade of this tree.”

“Suit yourself!” Quackerjack said. Then he grabbed Magavolt’s arm and dragged him away.

[nyanzaya]

I know this gonna be long story but please tell me about your boys i'm all ears all night (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) i send this because you don't want to hijack my post, even if it's a good thing ( ˶ ❛ ꁞ ❛ ˶ ) please introduce me to this world of Iza and Zuo (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

@if-that-so​

Oh gosh lol I can try for sure since it’s all in my brain, I got something written but-- Let me see if I can explain what kind of world they are in to begin with because I mean they are like alts so they would obviously be in Ikebukuro/Japan. They are hybrids, you can sort of think of it as that typical neko-trope with cat girls and cat boys and a bunch of other hybrids and supernatural type creatures.

In Iza and Zuo’s world, basically the hybrids are seen as less than human, of course there are people who see them as normal people with added on traits that make them distinct from humans. There’s a lot of themes, even dark themes, that go into their world honestly lol I don’t personally touch on all of them because there are just some themes I just don’t bother with lmfao. That’s basically like the premise of their world really. It’s pretty normal with, not much that’s weird about it? Hybrids are a normal thing but depending some see them as ‘less than’ human and others see them as just human and then there’s probably some that see them as something special.

I’m not sure which boy would be more interesting but honestly I think Iza is more interesting because he’s pretty complicated so I’ll start with him. ((This also got really super long so i-- put it under a read more LOL)

His whole beginning; basically he was born into the “pet life” and was taken away from his mom when he was...I want to say when he was like a 6 months old? And was basically given away as a gift and the thing with his mom (who’s name is Kata) was she was prized and treasured for her unique colorings, a black Burmese and garnet colored eyes with tufted ears and was basically “bred” because her kittens(kids) would sell for a lot of yen lmfao--- I’m not going to get into that because that’s literally a whole different topic--- Well, Iza was basically treated and raised as a cat, but for his young age he was very intelligent(and even the Burmese breed on their own are VERY smart) and the fact he was human too he just learned by watching, as a result he is very good at reading body language but he can’t read facial expressions. He literally watched and observed his First Master for 12 years? And if I remember right his First didn’t exactly see Iza as a cat, he saw him as like his son but what happened was he got blackmailed and his company was literally being destroyed and failing from the inside out. I think his friend who gave him Iza only gave him Iza as a gift because his wife left Iza’s frist master and like he was depressed and felt like his whole life was out of control and just getting this rare black little cat gave him a reason to keep trying because animals/other people/things that depend on you do that to you. Well, while he was blackmailed he had to do horrible things to Iza and had to basically make him an obedient pleasure pet. He hated literally every second of it and then he gave Iza away to the man that blackmailed him and disappeared because he was so disgusted with himself. Iza actually, has a narrative poem about it but I don’t think I’ll ever post it, maybe I should because that’s literally Iza’s poem but... I can’t bring myself to post something that implies you know lmfao. He does have two other poems about the first half of his life with his second and then when he was about 19-21? I can link them if you’d be interested in reading them

Life with his second master was well, horrible. At first it was fine but well, as a pleasure pet he had to do things he was taught to do obediently or be disciplined. Iza at one point did try to escape, but he was caught and was whipped, he still has the scars on his back and he even suffers from nightmares and ptsd because of him. Then afterward he was collared/chained to his second master’s bed. While he lived with his second he met a wolf hybrid who then later became his obsession before they had disappeared when they were saved from his second master. Iza was only with his second, who’s name is Yasui Teijo for... maybe 3 or 4 years honestly?

When he was rescued from his Yasui Teijo he got placed with a third master who isn’t exactly relevant to his story. Iza did eventually end up killing his third master but he only did after he climbed up to a position of self-made power. He became an informant and the way he gets his information is through the cat in the city because he has the ability to speak to them quite fluently. He became really credible and he even hides under the guise of a Fashion Designer. Well, this is the part where Zuo comes in.

Now. Zuo was literally created to be Iza’s equal and opposite reaction. It was originally only supposed to be about Iza, but he became too powerful and even in normal roleplays and threads no one stopped him(besides Shizuo--but that’s a whole different situation and he isn’t part of Iza’s story). Literally, Iza was allowed to murder and assassinate whoever he wanted whenever he wanted and with that new found power he went and used it to get his third master assassinated among other people.

Zuo and Iza met when they were both around 19/20(Zuo is a year older than Iza) At this point in Zuo’s life, he had been out of pit fighting/the gladiator ring for about 4 years. What happened to Zuo was his mother Aiko was also a pet just like Iza’s mom but she escaped and Zuo was one of her only kitten that she had. Now, their life was hard. They had to live on the streets because they were homeless and when Zuo was, I want to say like 8 or 9 I think, he actually hurt another normal kid on accident and his mother basically told him to use his strength and power to help people, not harm them and he held onto that tightly. Well, I want to say Zuo was like 12 when he was basically kidnapped and was thrown into the arena to fight for his life. Because of that, he is physically powerful; as in he could up root a stop sign too but he can’t stop something extremely heavy like a crane. He fought for survival and eventually ended up becoming Champion(A long with a ton of scars, especially on his hands and chest) but he couldn’t live with himself for getting to the top because he had to kill the people he considered his friends, including his senpai and kohai. So, he’s got a lot of like, ptsd. Zuo forced his way out of the pit fighting by basically starting a rebellion within and broke out.

At 17 he decided “Fuck this shit. Fuck all those horrible people. I’m going to do what my mom wanted me to do and protect people and help people who need help.” It kind of back fires. He became very prone to aggression and anger and would outright attack people instead, but would be remorseful about it. It would happen because he was still in that mindset of ‘This person wants to kill me. I have to kill them first so I can survive.” and it took him years to get out of that mental state. So when he met Iza when he was about 20 he was better, of course he still had his issues but he was in better control of himself and became a vigilante to do justice in the city; because at the same time Iza was gaining more power and had eventually gotten 2 or 3 police officers in his pocket and Zuo became frustrated because some police were not exactly doing good. He saw the police force as corrupt and took it upon himself to make things right in the city.

Zuo meets Iza, but he mistook Iza for a woman at first because Iza can and he does cross-dress. (he was supposed to be a drag queen but I decided against it) It’s not written in the original drabble, and if i were to rewrite it, I would mention that Zuo had gotten a strange feeling of “knowing” who Iza was, but he couldn’t exactly place where he knew him from because Zuo remembers his past lives. You end up finding out that Iza and Zuo had been chasing after each other in previous past lives and they always ended up opposite sides so they were always fighting since the beginning of their soul’s birth. Their souls, were predestined to always be at odds and everyone in their world has someone who is their opposite, whether they end up in love or hating each other always depended on the circumstances but the “good end” would be for them to end up together and be in love and the “Bad end” would be for them to always be apart. So, it’s almost like a WHOLE multiverse type thing, as in, in one universe they are happy together, but in an alternate of that same universe they are enemies. It sounds complex but basically every decision you make splits the universe so you have a universe where you did the thing and another one where you didn’t do the thing basically lol. WELL ANYWAY- Zuo ends up having mixed feelings for Iza because Iza got in his way from stopping a man from human trafficking and then Iza ended up killing that man in the same night. They were always after the same people, but the way they went about “stopping” them was opposite but in a sense it was the same? Iza used violence and ended up killing the people, but Zuo refrained from violence and only used it when he needed too which ended up being often.

I haven’t written how they actually got together but I’m thinking the way they got into a relationship was they talked and decided to work together instead. This was when they were like, 22/23. While together they felt “complete” but, because of Iza’s skewed vision of love he ended up manipulating and reverting Zuo back into someone violent and someone who used violence and justified it by “it’s for the greater good.” Eventually, Zuo realized what he was doing was wrong when I think he saw Iza kill some innocent people and realized that he had gotten drunk off the power and chaos. It’s in his birthday drabble but here’s the exert:

Iza laughed.        

And laughed before abruptly, he stopped. He gave a side-glance to the pole that had embedded itself in the wall, grinning. “Tom, just give into your true nature already. This-” He gestured to the fallen men before himself. “This is what you’re meant to do. Don’t you get it? Together, you and I could actually change something. Isn’t that what yo-”    

“Shut up! This- this isn’t what I fucking want. It’s what you want.” Zuo spat, the fur on his tail was fluffed, his ears laid back in defensiveness.    

These men Iza gestured to wasn’t the work of Zuo.    The iron in the air wasn’t the fault of Zuo.    

It was Iza that drew blood and he was covered in it. The tips of his ears to the tip of his tail. He wasn’t drenched but it was easy to tell that the blood on his clothing didn’t belong to him.“Don’t shift this...this shit on to me. You did it.”  

Iza’s ears twitched. Rejection was a bitter taste. “I’m doing you a favor, Dear. Isn’t the scent wonderful? It tells us that we are survivors. So, why don’t you draw some blood as well?”

A light flickered and suddenly Zuo felt a pain on his cheek. His brows furrowed. Iza flung a blade a him. The smell of iron further increased his rage. He didn’t want to return to being a brawler. Zuo was done being a gladiator for the entertainment of others and he sure as hell was not going to give into what Iza wanted. He brought a hand to his wounded cheek before he looked at his hand. Zuo saw the blood on his fingers.    

“Enough..” He spoke softly, his hand was shaking.    

Iza was quiet, watching Zuo. “Enough? Enough of what? This is the only way.”    

“How is this the only way?” Zuo’s closed his blood-tipped hand, as if to show his resolve on the situation.    

The black feline paced, taking a blade out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. “How? Haven’t you heard of the saying: ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’? To allow these...humans to continue to use us and further lower our quality of life and longevity would be horrendous, no? We are just as capable as they are.”

“Fuck off with your ‘we’ shit! There is no ‘we’. It’s just you against everyone else.” Zuo growled, flexing his hands before he brought them together to crack his knuckles.

Iza stopped pacing taking in Zuo’s words. No we? He understood now. Even Zuo was an enemy of his now. This feeling in his chest hurt. It hurt to feel how Zuo rejected him. They were together, though Iza supposed that was impossible. There was a sting at his eyes but he wasn’t going to let Zuo see him fall into tears. Without thinking, Iza flung his knife. He almost missed his target, but his blade had impaled itself in Zuo’s shoulder.

“Well, well. If there is no ‘we’ then there can never be an ‘us’.”

Zuo knew Iza twisted his words. That wasn’t what he meant but if that’s what Iza saw, then all he could do now was to stop them from this senseless killing.

These were innocent people. All Zuo saw in front of him was someone who was crazed, lusting after more bloodshed. Someone who, Zuo was fond of. It hurt to see Iza turn into someone he didn’t know, or perhaps he had known who he was all along but had never seen it from a different perspective. Perhaps, Zuo had tolerated this behavior until it was too much.

How could he save them?

The cream-colored feline pulled the knife from his shoulder. “You threw your knife at me. So, I’ll assume you meant to hit a pressure point. That’s what you do, huh? So, that means you wanted to disable me to kill me then, huh?”

Iza’s ears leaned back.

Zuo brought his other hand to the other side of the blade, snapping it in half before dropping it to the floor. Another solid resolve. Zuo was going to be the one to stop Iza. He had to be. To let the black feline running wild with power? He understood now that Iza couldn’t handle the power; the rush of the high of being on top of the world.

Zuo would bring them back to earth. Even if it meant that this was their fate: To fight and oppose each other until the end.

That’s basically when they broke up but they officially stated they are not together.

Zuo and Iza both have the same exact goal: To save their kin from being seen as less than human but they go about it so differently that they will always butt heads.

Someone had to stop Iza from senseless bloodshed.

There’s definitely more facts to them for sure, like how they made a community together before they “split up” and how they were actually really in love with each other but the timing was off. They are like 27/28 now and by the time Iza is like 35 or 36 their kin would be “free” from being used for profits like animals but canonically, Iza ends up dying and leaving Zuo. I’m debating if I want to have it so Zuo dies too but LOL It would make sense if their souls are “bound together” in a spiritual sense.

But that’s pretty much their story. There’s a lot of details I didn’t add in honestly lol there’s so much more but this is already super long aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[hollowistheworld]

Never Say Never Say Never

Read on AO3            Support Me on Ko-Fi  

Sabo misses one New Year's party and apparently he misses all the important family updates.

A lot of people wanted to know how Sabo felt about this dating thing, so here’s a quick one-shot of him finding out. 

“Koala,” Sabo protested in a tone that was definitely not a whine, “I have to go. Do you know how much of a douche it’ll make me if I’m late to my own brother’s birthday dinner?”

Koala added another laptop charger to the bundle already in his arms. “No one in your family has ever been on time for anything. You’ll live.”

Sabo scowled at her, though it didn’t matter because she’d already gone back to rummaging around in the cabinets. “I thought deep cleans were supposed to be done in the spring.”

“It’s the new year, Sabo. I’ve put up with all of this garbage for too long. You said you’d help me clear it out, and now you’re going to.”

Sabo frowned down at the steadily growing pile of wires and cords and boxes and who knew what else that kept appearing from their apparently bottomless cabinets. “I didn’t think you meant on the first. It’s a holiday, you know.” He was not pouting.

“Only for white collar workers.” Koala reemerged and added several more cords to Sabo’s arms. “There. Finally. What, were they breeding in there?”

“They must have been. I don’t think we have a phone that goes with that one,” Sabo said, nodding vaguely to one of the charger cords.

Koala waved him off. “Go see which of those don’t work and then you can go.”

“I don’t remember you getting promoted over me, Koala.”

She raised an eyebrow and held eye contact with him for an impressively long time. Sabo could withstand one of her stares better than anyone else she knew. Sometimes he could even outlast her.

Not today though, apparently. “Alright, alright,” he said, surrendering. “What are you doing?”

She gestured at the main computer. “Clearing all the useless files off of this thing. So be glad I gave you the easy job, okay?”

Sabo stuck his tongue out at her and went to find an outlet to start testing the cords in.

It wasn’t too bad, once he started working at it. Half the cords could be tossed out without being tried; they were frayed or cracked or had tooth marks (from what, Sabo couldn’t even guess). A few were a pain, sending him on a wild goose chase for something to plug them into, but he was still done in under forty-five minutes, leaving him with plenty of time to meet Luffy and Ace at Sanji’s restaurant, as long as he got a decent cab driver. He'd mostly said he might be late in the hopes of convincing Koala to let him skip out on helping her clean.

“I’m leaving, Koala!” he shouted back into the store, front door already half open, not intending to give her a chance to find something else for him to do.

“I expect you to come in early tomorrow to help me finish!” she yelled back, and Sabo shut the door in a hurry, already planning to insist he’d been gone before she’d said it.

He loved his job, and he loved Koala, but he wasn’t going to spend one second more cleaning than he absolutely had to. That wasn’t why he’d joined up.

Knowing Koala would likely blow a gasket if she was bothered by someone who didn’t know how to read a CLOSED sign, Sabo locked the door behind him and made sure the sign announcing the store as DRAGON ELECTRONICS was turned off before turning to find a cab.

He’d probably have been more willing to help Koala clean if they’d been cleaning stuff up in the important parts of the store. Down in the basement - which was actually a much nicer workspace than the store above - shredding documents they no longer needed and couldn’t risk anyone finding, organizing files that had been left scattered across desks for far too long, or checking that the computers were still up to date and secure.

Sabo didn’t know how the electronics store itself, which was just a cover for an entirely different sort of business, could possibly have generated so much clutter in just a year. It rarely even got more than two customers in a day, though those customers had an uncanny ability to walk in at the worst possible times. Listening to people complain about their computers catching viruses from visiting sites they had no business visiting was a drag at the best of times; it was worse when they had ten minutes to get out of the building before their chance to get corrupt-rich-bastard-of-the-month taken down vanished.

Sabo shook his head to clear it. He had to be careful about thinking about work while outside of work, or he ran the risk of saying something he shouldn’t in front of Ace and Luffy - and once Luffy knew a secret it was only a matter of time before the word spread. He could be persuaded to keep his mouth shut if one could impress the seriousness of the secret on him, but Sabo would prefer to just avoid the problem altogether.

Ace, meanwhile, would probably burst a blood vessel if he ever found out that Sabo’s ‘boring IT desk job’ was a cover for what could generously be called a vigilante gig. His big brother instincts tended to only kick on in extreme situations, but Sabo was willing to bet committing felonies would be enough to set them off. And Ace would notice if Sabo let something slip that he hadn’t meant to, unlike Luffy, who could be easily distracted.

Sabo was just grateful that Garp rarely came up to visit for anything besides Christmas, maybe Thanksgiving, and a summer camping trip. He’d kick Sabo’s ass through half the city if he knew what Sabo really did for a paycheck.

So Sabo carefully but quickly, with the efficiency that came from years of practice, boxed up all of his thoughts about work that went beyond ‘Koala’s making me help her clean the store and it’s a nightmare’. By the time the cab stopped at the curve Sabo was fully back into the persona of ‘the best behaved brother’, a position he had worked hard to maintain. He would also argue he deserved it even with his job - he may have been breaking the most laws of the three of them, but he had better intentions than either of his ‘chaos storm’ brothers, as Dadan had used to call them. And everyone always said that he was the most polite.

Sabo entered the restaurant and made his way to the usual table, where Ace and Luffy were already sitting, Luffy staring towards the kitchen with laser focus.

“Look at you two, being on time for once,” Sabo teased with a grin.

Ace was frowning at Luffy rather than joining him in staring at the kitchen in anticipation, which struck Sabo as odd. All three of them tended to hyper-focus on food, and it was generally a bad sign when something could distract them from it.

“Marco gave us a ride,” Ace told him, still eyeing Luffy, tone distracted. “He had to come out this way anyway, to talk to Doma about one of the dogs.”

“So he dragged your asses out of the house kicking and screaming, I take it?”

Ace finally looked at him, grinning a little. “Luffy went kicking and screaming. I can be easily bribed.”

Sabo knew it. Marco didn’t seem to have a lot of interest in getting Ace to do much of anything most of the time, but when he was interested Ace rarely lasted more than a few minutes against him. Sabo figured that was probably a good thing - if Ace was allowed to run out the full gambit of his stubbornness his partner would probably murder him in cold blood. And he’d deserve it.

Sabo slid into the booth next to Ace, sidling up closer to his brother than he usually did. Being close to any of the three brothers during a meal was dangerous - every one of them had bitten at least one person who had gotten too close to their food over the course of their lives. Most often, it had been each other. Luffy was lucky to not have scars in the shape of Ace’s teeth marks.

But food hadn’t arrived yet, so Sabo was safe for a little while longer. And Luffy was thoroughly distracted by the prospect of dinner incoming, so he was unlikely to eavesdrop.

Not that Luffy was much good at eavesdropping anyway. Eavesdropping required at least a little bit of subtlety, and Luffy and subtle didn’t have so much as a passing acquaintanceship.

“What’s going on?” Sabo asked in a low voice, just loud enough for Ace to hear over all the background noise of the restaurant.

“Huh?”

Sabo rolled his eyes. “You’re looking at Luffy like he’s grown an extra head. What’d he do?” Sabo would have thought they were immune to Luffy’s oddities by now. Sabo had over a decade’s worth of exposure, and Ace had twice that. What could Luffy pull out of his hat that wasn’t some variation on something they’d seen a hundred times before?

Ace shook his head. “You are not going to believe this.”

There wasn’t much Sabo wasn’t ready and willing to believe in. “Try me.”

Ace shook his head harder. His expression was complicated - Ace’s expressions often were - but Sabo had had years and years to learn how to read them. There was fondness, exasperation, a little bit of annoyance, and a lot of disbelief. “Luffy’s dating someone.” He kept his voice low, so that Luffy - now chatting to one of the waiters who had made the mistake of passing too close to their table while collecting empty glasses - wouldn’t hear him, but the words seemed to burst out of him all the same.

Sabo raised an eyebrow. “Dating someone?” he repeated. That didn’t seem likely at all. Luffy had never once expressed an interest in dating. He was scornful of soulmate bonds, and beyond that he’d always seemed vaguely skeptical of the idea of romance or crushes. He’d certainly never showed any interest in trying it out for himself.

Ace nodded. “You remember that doctor with the gang tattoos?”

Sabo considered once more telling Ace that he was in no position to be judging other people’s tattoos, but decided it wasn’t really the time. “Yeah, the one whose dog we watched at Christmas, right?”

“That’s him.”

“What about him?” Sabo glanced at Luffy - if Sanji didn’t hurry up with dinner he was going to break into the kitchen - and back at Ace. “Luffy’s not…?”

“Yeah. Announced it last night. This morning. Whatever. At the party.”

Ace and Luffy had spent last night - New Year’s eve - at Whitebeard’s place, at one of their impressive parties. Sabo hadn’t gone, desperate to catch up on his sleep after a string of bad luck had nearly landed Hack in prison. And then he'd been nice and come in to help Koala with the cleanup from all that, and she'd tricked him into helping her clean up the literal mess of the storefront. See if he every volunteered to help her with something again.

“How long has that been going on?”

Ace shrugged one shoulder. “Not that long. At Christmas I - Luffy, where do you think you’re going?”

Luffy had sprung up from the table. “I’m gonna go find Sanji.”

There was no time to protest. Luffy could really move when he wanted to, even if he wasn’t actually running. He was halfway across the restaurant before Sabo or Ace had finished hearing what he’d said.

Ace waved him off. “He’s lucky he’s got a friend who’s a cook. Anyone else would have banned him ages ago.”

Sabo laughed. “Pretty sure he is banned from every restaurant between here and our place.”

“Probably. Anyway, as I was saying - I ran into the guy at Chopper’s birthday party. Law was getting fucking smashed at the bar, having a crisis about soulmates.” He looked at Sabo expectantly.

Sabo looked back, confused, for a few long seconds, and then his eyes widened. “Luffy’s that guy’s soulmate?” It shouldn’t have surprised him so badly, really. Just because Luffy didn’t have a soulmate didn’t mean anything about someone else having him for one. But it was still strange to even imagine.

It wasn’t personal towards Trafalgar Law. Sabo would have felt equally shocked no matter who Ace had said it was. With the possible exception of Zoro. Sabo could have believed Zoro had Luffy for a soulmate, he thought. But the idea of anyone else made his brain buck a little.

“Yeah. Not even two weeks after Trafalgar gets done telling me about how he can’t ever see himself dating his soulmate he’s sitting on our fucking couch holding Luffy’s hand, with Luffy’s damn name written on his arm.”

Sabo paused a second, distracted from the point. “It’s Luffy’s name? That’s his soulmate mark?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Sabo laughed a little. “God, that’s so cliche.”

Ace smirked, and it broadened until he was laughing too. “Christ , I know, right? Poor guy. He said it didn’t start as Luffy’s name, but can you imagine going through life with something that boring for your soulmate mark and then that comes hurtling into your life?” When he said ‘that’ he gestured towards the kitchen, where Luffy was no doubt making a nuisance of himself.

The two of them laughed, trying to be quiet at first, then realizing Luffy wasn’t there to overhear and demand to know what was so funny, and they grew louder and louder until they were doubled over the table, clutching their sides and getting funny, judgmental looks from the other restaurant patrons.

Sabo recovered first, wheezing and hiccuping back to sanity in fits and bursts. “Okay, okay,” he managed, struggling not to start laughing all over again at the sight of Ace still giggling to himself. “Does Luffy at least seem happy with him?”

Ace shrugged. “Dude, it’s Luffy. He seems happy with everyone.”

That was a fair point. “Happy dating him. Like, Law’s not being… I don’t know, weird about it? He’s not trying any shit about how Luffy has to do whatever he wants because he’s his soulmate?” It was hard to imagine Luffy allowing somebody to be a dick to him for any reason, soulmate mark included, but Sabo was his older brother. He was supposed to worry about things like that.

“Not that I saw.” Ace took a drink of water and reached for the table’s pitcher to refill his glass. “I don’t even know if Luffy knows they're soulmates.”

“Should we tell him?”

Ace shrugged again, but with a more serious look on his face this time. This was one of the things he’d been thinking about while he’d been staring at Luffy. “I don’t know. You’re better at this relationship crap. What do you think?”

“How am I the one who’s good at relationships? Apparently, I’m the only single one.”

Ace made a broad, vague gesture with one arm. “Not just dating. You’re better with people. It’s why you’re in retail.”

Sabo was nowhere near good enough with people to really be in retail, but he didn’t say so to Ace. “This just started last night?” he asked instead.

“Yeah, far as I know. And like I said, Trafalgar was having his life crisis at Christmas time, so it couldn’t have been much longer than that anyway.”

Sabo glanced back towards the kitchen. Luffy had reappeared, walking backwards, as though he had to guide Sanji to their table. “Let’s give him a couple of days. If he doesn’t tell Luffy about it, we’ll know he’s a bastard, and we’ll send his ass back to kingdom come.”

“And if he does tell Luffy?”

“Then we’ll play it by ear. Come on, this is Luffy we’re talking about. If Law pisses him off we’ll be able to hear him complaining about it from space.”

Luffy reached the table, Sanji and dinner in tow, and Sabo slid a safe distance away from his brother. It wasn’t surprising that Ace was so concerned. In addition to his - their whole family’s - complicated tangle of emotions regarding soulmate bonds, Ace just didn’t trust other people very easily, particularly not where his brothers were concerned. He was always worrying about the sort of people Luffy was hanging out with, if they were trustworthy, if they might take advantage of Luffy’s friendly, trusting nature.

Sabo worried about that sometimes, but mostly he tended to worry about what he considered to be more realistic concerns - like Luffy falling off a building while parkouring around town and splitting his head open on the concrete. Maybe dating a doctor would be for the best.

“So, Luffy,” Sabo said as the three of them began digging into their dinners. “I hear you have a boyfriend?”

Despite having his mouth full, Luffy grinned.

[downstvged]

“ oh. uh... you had your eye on that last laffy taffy, too ? ”   awkward. peyton reaches for the candy anyway. his fingertips close around the treat and nudge it closer to the person beside him. “ go for it. my favorite’s banana anyway. ”

or, alternatively : i have zero restraint & ‘tis i, linc, comin’ atchu w/ my third, peyton pellegrino !! resident senior class treasurer & lacrosse co-captain & theatre techie. he’s a wholesome boy but jeez... is new ham gonna break him. dun dun dunnnnNNNN .  ; )

✔ ┊❝ noah centineo. he/him &. cismale ) eighteen year old peyton pellegrino was listening to “no place like home” by marianas trench when the field trip buses turned around. rumor has it he’s on a missing children’s list in delaware & his dad is actually his childhood kidnapper, but who knows if that’s true? what we do know is that their friends describe them as suave & bona fide, even if they’re known to be a little restless & yielding from time to time.

i’m... not gonna do my long intro format for him bc ain’t nobody got time fo dat! and i’m lazy sfhiefh. but here we go !!

( tw: mentions of kidnapping, false death, anxiety, familial deceit )

AMBER ALERT, MILTON PD, DELAWARE —  MILTON TOWN POLICE HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED EIGHTEEN-MONTH-OLD JAMIE CLAVERTON WAS STOLEN FROM HIS MOTHER’S STROLLER IN BRUMBLEY PARK EARLIER TODAY. SUSPECT WAS NOT IDENTIFIED AT THE SCENE. ANYONE WITH INFORMATION IS ENCOURAGED TO CALL POLICE IMMEDIATELY.

spoiler alert : little jamie claverton never quite found his way home. with no witnesses to the kidnapping ( thanks to his mother’s ignorance... yikes ) ,  matthew pellegrino, age 30, was able to make an easy getaway with the child. in 2010, milton police closed jamie’s case. the clavertons, heavy-hearted, buried an empty casket for their lost boy, unaware that he was alive and well just two states away, living comfortably with his “ father ”  in west ham, connecticut.

peyton pellegrino’s mother abandoned her family shortly after peyton’s first birthday –– she’d struggled with postpartum depression & decided she wasn’t made out to be a mother. despite matthew’s pleas, his wife disappeared into the night. and just like that, it was just father and son. us two against the world, peyton’s father would say. they moved around frequently, spending almost each passing birthday in a different place. new york city, boston, miami, chicago, philly. it wasn’t until peyton’s seventh birthday that they finally settled somewhere long-term: phoenix, arizona. and, by the time his tenth birthday rolled around, they hopped across the country once more.

to west ham, connecticut. a dramatic change of pace. matthew had landed the position of fire chief, his record of improving local fire departments finally recognized. so ten-year-old peyton careened into fifth grade, then middle school. he fit right in. and west ham? west ham ate up the pellegrino family story. nobody suspects a thing.

in a hidden compartment locked under matthew’s desk lies the only record of peyton’s past. duplicated fingerprints. forged social security documents. fake passports, just in case. the key’s hidden somewhere in the house. but it’s the two of them, father and son, them two against the world.

and up until now? peyton hasn’t had the means to discover the truth.

peyton pellegrino, aspiring broadway set/lighting engineer:

inspired by “no place like home” by marianas trench.

peyton moved to west ham when he was 10, so i would love some long-term connections for him. his dad’s the fire chief, so he’s definitely... involvedˆin the smell stuff. more on that in the future.

he’s heavily involved in lacrosse, mock trial, theater, & student gov. he’s the senior class treasurer because freshman year, his pals on the lacrosse team joked he had the only face people wouldn’t be mad to hand class dues to. he’s been voted into position ever since.

will be attending eastern connecticut state university for a degree in theatre & theatre design !! he’s SUCH a techie and very unashamed about it, but he will get bashful if he gushes on too long about the importance of a crisp curtain or how much of a difference fading spots can make. he acts as well ( see his excellent performances in mock trial competitions ) but he’s got such a love for framing the stage, making his performers look good. making the visual effects an extension of the story.

works as a pizza delivery boi for one of the local faves — and you best bet this kid makes amazing tips. in the summers, he techs at a bunch of theatre camps and throws in a gig scooping ice cream just for some extra dough. it’s not that his dad doesn’t make good money as fire chief, but they struck a deal that peyton would foot at least half of the bill for college. so he’s trying to getting a jump on that.

one of those rare breeds that is hella involved and seems really relaxed about it? but... he does have anxiety & struggles with panic attacks from time to time. they were really bad when he was around 8 to 11, but they’ve calmed since being here. it’s one of the reasons why matthew looked for a position in such a small, calm town.

sike !!!!!  west ham ain’t calm no more !!!!

speaking of his dad. they’re fuckin’ best friends, alright? saturday nights are reserved for the pellegrino boys. foosball. ping pong. b-rate game shows.

he’s the kind of dude to go out of his way to help you and say it was no sweat. even if it was all the sweat.

if he loves you, watch him lay out his jacket so you don’t have to step in mud.

has a bad habit of nipping at the edge of pens. it’s one of the anxious ticks he hasn’t quite been able to shake. sometimes his right leg bounces, if he’s forced to sit still in one place for too long.

will likely join the committee on going home, if something like that arises. leadership courses through his veins, but peyton’s not really one to pursue it very much. he’s more content to chip in and help everyone else than sit at the top. but if someone close to him ( cough cough, @cvssndra​, cough ) decides to take the reins, he’ll be right there to support.

he eats his pizza rolled around the crust, like an italian taquito.

notable fashion choices include : leather bracelets, cuffed jeans, lots of solid colored and colorblocked tees. when he dresses up for mock trial, the girls kinda swoon. boy looks dashing in a suit. has a glasses prescription but always wears contacts. his dad says he looks sharper that way ( but it’s actually because, with glasses, he looks too similar to the claverton family. )  beat up chuck taylors, kind of untied on purpose. he’s got that whole loosely kept together, sleep deprived look down pat.

in middle school, he did a social studies project on milk carton kids. his project partner said there was this sketch from delaware that kinda looked like him. they both just laughed it off. young peyton came home and told his dad all about it over dinner. his dad laughed. the next day, peyton tried to find the same webpage, and was met with a notice that it had been permanently disbanded.

catch him longboarding around town like an absolute boss.

his favorite gum flavor is juicyfruit. it reminds him of go kart racing with his dad in arizona.

has functional knowledge of asl. he began learning at his school in chicago, and pursued it a bit further in arizona when he learned their next-door neighbor, patricia, was deaf. young peyton would walk the nice lady’s mail up to her door and learn a few signs from her each day, then practice them at dinner with his dad.

i imagine his dad’s reputation makes him fairly well-known around town. it’s likely peyton knows the owners of most businesses around here, so he’s the dude you stick near if ya want free shit.

he knows his dad’s disappointed he’s not pursuing a career in law enforcement or medicine. but peyton barely survived one day of junior firefighter training.

he actually just went back on anti-anxiety meds recently. so that’s gonna be interesting, when that supply starts going bye-bye.

people always assume he’s from cali, because of his overall vibe. his dad says he was actually born in ohio. peyton did a whitepages search in ohio for kenna pellegrino. the search came up empty.

his pals have a running inside joke where they hand him bottles of san pellegrino mineral water. it’s hilarious. and he hates it.

aight cuttin’ it short so i can hop onto this dash!! as always hmu for plots, bants, and good times !!  xx

[browniesnivy]

Random Asks!

This template was made by biaesthetic, just so you know. I cut out some of the questions I didn’t I saw feel like answering, but otherwise her template worked really well for my needs! I saw cyberenergyshock do something similar and felt the need to do one myself, so here we go! Y’all really don’t know anything about me (which is mostly because i’m super paranoid about privacy) and I don’t intend to give out super precious info or anything here, I just thought it’d be nice. 

what was the last thing you read? The last book I read was issue three of the Bunny Drop manga. So far it’s a very cute story that I recommend to people who like family stories. It’s very touching and cute, but can be fairly thought-provoking at times. I haven’t finished it yet so I can’t give a full review or anything... but those are my thoughts so far!

favorite movie? Captain America: Winter Soldier! I know it’s a pretty basic choice as far as favorite Marvel movies go, but it really is just soooooo good. The action, the intrigue, the emotion, the relationships... all so good! Ten out of ten would watch again... and I believe me, I have. Three times in fact. And I’ve cried at least once every time because I’m weak sauce.

favorite book? That’s really hard... I really loved Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets but I haven’ t read that in years and am really fuzzy on the details... so I guess I’ll have to say the Warrior Cats Super Edition Crookedstar’s Promise. What can I say, I love Warrior Cats! And this edition is just so emotional. Without giving away any spoilers, this book is an absolute emotional rollercoaster at parts and contains one of the most manipulative, petty, dangerous, terrifying and broken villains the series has to offer and she is just fantastic. If your down with some of the special Warrior Cats-brand of stupidity this book is a total treat!

dream date? We’d be alone somewhere quiet and serene, nature surrounding us as we were covered in a blanket of stars. Cool, refreshing water babbles nearby, giving poetry to our escape. The most calming and tranquil environment imaginable. However, we wouldn’t just enjoy the soothing scenery, but we would talk in a low whisper, joking about things only we would understand and geeking out over fandom, all in between mouthfuls of take-out pasta from Olive Garden. It would be a mixture of a fun hangout with a friend and a romantic tender scene. (I guess all of that was really corny, huh? Haha, sorry!)

do you have a crush? Not on anyone real... but if Hatsune Miku asks tell her I’m free!

what are your hobbies? I love creative pursuits like writing and drawing and have loved them since I was extremely young. One of my favorite pass times is playing video games like Pokémon, Fire Emblem, Harvest Moon, The Sims,, Civilization, Stardew Valley, Super Smash Brothers, and many many others... too many to reasonably name! I love reading novels, but manga and anime alike are what I seem to do more of nowadays. My parents are pretty strict on which anime I watch though, so I spend more time reading manga because they aren’ t nearly as finicky about my reading material since my younger siblings won’t have to be subjected to it. Also, I really love philosophy. Ethics and morals have always fascinated me and the idea of mapping out the human spirit like a genome is endlessly fascinating to me... I love to read books on morality and watch philosophical YouTube videos in my down time, and I hope that someday I can come to some kind of understanding of the truth. I guess that means I’m kind of lame! 

what’s your favorite time of day? Evening. I love the darkness. The chilling winds and the stars illuminating the dark skyscape is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and it’s all right their in your backyard if you only care to look! Well, I guess if you live in the city or something you can’t do that... in which case I’m very sorry! Anyway, the serenity of the night is something the daytime can’t match for me. Peace and quiet are seldom found around where I live, so the silence is very appreciated!

if you could look like anything, what would you look like? Anything you say? In that case I guess I’d look like a calico cat. That away, I could climb along fences and gates or go exploring into the wilderness without anyone looking at me funny! Plus, maybe someone would pet me!

are you a romantic? If you just read my ideal date, the I you’ll probably know the answer. Yeah, I guess I am! I’m not super ditzy or anything, in fact I rarely every feel romantic attraction to people, but I do long to find a soulmate. 

what’s your favorite type of weather? The rain, definitely. If you couldn’t tell, quiet tranquility is pretty much my aesthetic. I love water. It nourishes the plant life and makes everything sparkle with dew, the greenery becomes so much greener and everything becomes so much more vibrant... it’s like the spirit of the world has been born again. And yet almost nobody is out their enjoying it. Fine by me, I’d rather be alone on my walks down the rainy neighborhood streets. Bonus if it’s raining at night, because not only are the walks multiplied tenfold in their beauty, but when you decide to hit the hay the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops can gently lull you to sleep...

what do you like talking about? Well obviously I love to talk about Yu-Gi-Oh!, and I’m pretty much open to talk to anyone about it... but I also love to talk about other fandom! I also love mythology and philosophy (that though provoking shit) and just random trivia in general and it’s nice to talk to people who are also interested in it. Other then all that nerdy cooties, I just generally like listening to other people talk. As long as what you say isn’t completely repulsive to me I’ll probably listen, but I’ll probably crack jokes the entire time unless you’re being really serious. I love funny stuff.

if you got a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? Oh, I’d never even think about a tattoo! I’m far too much of a scaredy-cat, besides the initial pain the idea an image could be burned onto me forever kind of freaks me out. I have no problem with other people getting them at all, just not something I could ever do. I don’t really think I can answer this question adequately... but I guess if I had to choose I’d say something small like an eye or a teardrop. I’d put it on the lower part of my neck to the left side: it would be discrete and not very noticeable, but kind of pretty and thoughtful. Nothing to obtrusive or, dare I say, obnoxious for me.

do you want any pets? I wish! We used to have a dog when I was very little, and then we had a cat when I was about eight or so, but nothing since then. Such a shame, because I am filled with love and affection for cats and dogs especially and would like to have at least one of each someday. If I had to pick which breeds I’d like, I’d say a border collie (they’re so expensive, but hey a girl can dream, right?) and a calico. 

dream job? “When I grow up I want to write books!” I’ve been saying that since I was old enough to write my own stories. Above all else, I want to be an author, but even most of those have other jobs as well. Of course I’ve gone through phases of wanting to be different things... when I was really small I wanted to be a waiter, then in second grade I wanted to be a marine biologist (I saw sea turtles at an aquarium and fell in love. Don’t want to do marine biology anymore but sea turtles are still the some of the most precious beasts on this planet!), but now I’m thinking either an animator, a journalist, or a moral philosophy professor. Who knows what I’ll end up doing, I'm only a freshman right now, after all.

dream place to live? Take me home, country road, to the place, I beloooooooong…! No, I don’t want to live in West Virginia specifically (though that would probably be pretty swell), but the American South is where I grew up and it’s where I want to live. The flourishing flora, sparkling water forms, and the waves of fertile farmland are just some pf my favorite set pieces of the Southern United States. I don’t live there anymore, and there are a lot of social problems down there that might target me specifically, but just for the scenery alone I wish to go back.

dream vacation? Japan! in this dream scenario, I can speak Japanese and navigate the land without many hitches, ordering of the menu and understanding all the signs. I’d go to a maid café and one of those resteraunts where there are stuffed animals everywhere, I’d buy a crap-ton of weeb shit, if I was lucky I’d see a vocaloid concert... and the sightseeing! I’d go hiking on the mountains and see cascading waterfalls and flourishing sakura and  really neat beetles... I hope that happens to me someday!

do you want any piercings? I don’t even want my ears pierced at all, so not at all! I’m not a very flashy person, in fact I’m quite quaint, and I never wear jewelry unless my family somehow bamboozles me into it. I’d never wear any of it, so it wouldn’t be worth some weirdo assaulting my earlobes (or any other body part) for it. 

if you had kids, what would you name them? I think me having kids might be kind of a long shot all things considered (but who really knows, right?) but I do have several names I’m really attached to that I would gladly give to someone. The first is Eve, which I just absolutely adore the aesthetic of. If you couldn’t all ready tell, I love the nighttime, and this name just screams a sort of lovely starlight elegance. Plus, it was the name of my first crush in Harvest moon Magical Melody so... backstory! The other name I’d go with would have to be Jamie. It just sounds so peppy and interesting, it’s a very unique name that I can’t help but love. Not coincidently, Jamie was the name of another Magical Melody character I was particularly fond of, because they were my first experience with gender nonconformity and non-binary gender identity! 

what are your best traits? Am I really the best person to judge that? Well, I guess I can try. I try to be as patient as possible and to keep an open-mind because I hate hurting people’s feelings, believe there is always a kind and peaceful solution, and think every single person deserves personal respect and to be treated with integrity when possible. I’d say of all my traits, those are the ones I try the hardest to foster and exercise.

worst traits? I’m so anxious, literally anything going wrong cans end me into a panic. My family has kind of a history with predisposed anxiety, so I should probably get that checked out... but then the idea of being diagnosed as “wrong” freaks me out a lot. Vicious cycle. This underlying anxiety manifests in some other nasty traits of mine: specifically that I’m a wuss, a doormat, and a pessimist. Long story short, I’m way to worried for my own good.

what’s your worst fear? Well, I’m pretty much afraid of everything! Alligators, heights, amnesia, blood and guts, rejection, underwater tunnels, birds coming near me, loud noises, illness... there’s a lot more, but I’d say my biggest fears are failure and weakness. The two kind of go hand in hand in my mind, and the thought that I could fail and become irredeemable and worthless is petrifying.  

what do you want to eat right now? Something to know about me: I’m always hungry. I snack incessantly, so it’s a wonder I’m still such a skinny little bastard! Right now, I could really go for some sushi. Put some seafood and some avocado on that shit and I’m sold.

favorite social media platform? Tumblr! I mean, it’s really the only social media I have, but still! Even though looking at all the fighting and toxicity on this website that can really make me feel awful, there is an undertone of community that outweighs that for me. Seeing so many fans of Yu-Gi-Oh! and ShrimpShipping in particular makes me feel like I really belong somewhere, and when I see the entire community harmonize to create a positive environment I remember what this life is all about. When I get a heart on a post, I think about how someone liked that post, how something I made or that I said might have put a smile on their face or roused a chuckle from them, and that makes it all worth it to me. Plus, all my mutual are really cool!

favorite article of clothing? Jackets, blazers, hoodies, coats, sweaters, suits... I love that cozy shit! I unfortunately live somewhere really hot, so a lot of times flaunting my style makes me uncomfortable, but it’s worth it too look fly as hell! When it comes to dressing, I’m very butch to androgynous, which makes since because I’m pretty gender nonconforming, I always have been. When I was younger and at a different school I was definitely the tomboy, but now I tend to try and blend in more just because people at my new school seem so much more judgmental. 

do you play any sports? I’ve been playing tennis since I was in third grade! I really only ever play it during the school’s season because there is just so much homework and I’m always busy, and thus my growth has been greatly stunted... but it’s still a really awesome sport. There’s a precision and an elegance to it that just fascinates me, plus it’s not a team sport so I don’t have to worry about screwing my partners over! Unless it’s doubles, which I try to avoid whenever possible. Other factors that make me like it appealing to me is that I have the body for it (tall with freaky long-ass arms) and my dad plays it too, so we can go out and help each other improve our skills. 

favorite meal of the day? Well they’re all great, I mean food is food, but I’m biased to dinner. The biggest most complete meal of the day that packs the most flavor and is the most filling, dinner is great! In my opinion, going to bed on a full stomach is one of the best feelings in the world, so we can thank dinner for that. Plus, my mom lets me eat snacks after dinner so I don’t have to sneak around to eat potato chips... heh.

what are you excited for? ShrimpShipping Week definitely has me excited, because I have so many shrimpy ideas to let loose upon this world... and I’m really looking forward to looking at everyone else’s contributions too! ShrimpShipping Week is the time I can see the most unity within the community, and it truly is a wonderful experience! Also I’m hyped as hell for Smash Ultimate and that currently unnamed Animal Crossing 2019 game... I’m a huge Nintendo fan my dudes.

when was the last time you cried? Like a few days ago? I can’t remember which of these instances came first, but I figured out I got on probation in NJHS because I got (gasp) a C+ in Geometry?! That seriously fucked-up my self-esteem, so I cried about that. But I can’t really remember if that was before or after I rewatched Madoka Magicia (which I personally consider a brilliant work of art and an anime must-see)… well either way I cried really recently.

dream house? Perhaps by the side of a crystal clear lake, maybe by the banks of a babbling brook, possibly by the sparkling seashore... but somewhere near water there would sit a two story house. Crisp hardwood makes up the walls of the construction, and there are windows opening the entire house to gorgeous natural light. Inside, everything is painted soft colors that seem to glow in the light, and every piece of furniture looks like you could sink into it’s soft surface. The downstairs floor has a living room with cases for cards, game boards, and video game disks are displayed neatly and conveniently alongside posters and figurines. It is essentially a nerd rec room. Beside that, the dining room and kitchen are organized and clean, and you can still smell pasta from the night before. A large flight upstairs leads to an upstairs library and study, which then empties out into a cozy bedroom full of stuffed animals and an open closet full of suits and coats. The bedroom has a balcony attached to it overlooking the water source nearby, a quiet and comfortable escape out into the serenity of nature. I suppose that’s all very idealistic, but this is a dream house... so I can have as many plushy sofas and anime girl figurines as I want!

what’s something you hate about the world? How selfish a lot of people are. I don’t mean to sound mean or judgmental, but there are just so many people who refuse to even try to be kind. All they care about is themselves and they don’t understand how much their actions effect those around them, and they certainly never try to adjust their viewpoints. I think there are so any problems we could resolve if we just tried to understand the people around us. After all, they aren’t going anywhere. You might as well try to make life as pleasant as possible for others, right? But that’s just my two cents. 

what’s something you love about the world? Even though the world is full of self-serving close-minded folk, there are also those who are driven and motivated to try to improve themselves and those around them. They want to try to make things more positive for those around them, they want to help those in need, and they believe in people’s capacity to improve. They believe int he ability to change and to improve. And when I see these people join hand in hand to change the world, I feel very inspired. I know it’s not possible to solve every problem, at least not in one go. But seeing people who wholeheartedly try to help out is what I love most in this world. 

what scents do you like? I tend to like scents like chocolate or sizzling steak, the kinds of scents associated with foods. Like I said, I’m always hungry. I also love the smell of nature after a rainy day, it just draws out all the scents from the flora in the most fantastic way. 

what kind of sleeper are you? If a bomb detonated outside my house, I would still stay asleep. In other words, I’m an incredibly heavy sleeper. Basically no amount of rambunctious noise can awaken me from deep slumber, but I am very responsive to someone disturbing my sleeping environment by touch. if the bed rocks or a finger brushes against my face, I’m awake instantly, probably in an anxious sweat. That’s why I can’t sleep in the car. But if you give me a warm bed and take care not to touch me in anyway, I’m dead asleep. 

are you a cat or dog person? Don’t make me choose! I love them both so much, but for completely different reasons. Cats are good because they are cuddly and soft and relaxing, but they for the most part don’t give a fuck about anything. And dogs are nice because they are so fun and loving, and sometimes they seem just as complex as humans in their emotional capacity. I love them both so much, I don’t want to choose!

how long would you survive in a zombie apocalypse? I’d probably be one of the first to kick the bucket honestly. I mean, I’ve beaten my siblings and other kids in wrestling matches more times then I can count, but a zombie apocalypse? I’d be too scared to do anything! The only thing that might push me forward would be the desire to help my loved ones, but even then I think i’d be pretty useless. Suffice it to say I’ll be easy pickings when the zombies come for our brains.

when do you feel safe? I’m pretty much always nervous to be honest, so I guess I feel safest when I’m asleep! 

are you trusting? I actually don’t know how to answer that? I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and when I make bonds I get seriously invested in them, but most people on the streets I’m always a bit on guard about. Got to play it safe, you know?

what fictional characters do you identify with? Alderheart and Hollyleaf from Warriors. Alderheart because he’s really anxious and just trying his best to be useful, and Hollyleaf because she wants to do the right thing and follow the rules but often gets confused and starts going a bit batty. For something that’s not Warriors, I’d have to go with Homura from Madoka Magica, because she puts on a lot of strong fronts to protect those she loves and to avoid failure at all costs. I’m not trying to say I’m as fucked-up as some of these characters or that any of my situations are as bad as theirs were, just that I see bits of myself in them and can feel a connection to them.

what labels do you commonly get? Well there is a lot... fangirl, nerd, overachiever, butch, standoffish, weird, tomboy... if I named all the boxes I’ve been put in I'd be here all day!

what issues are you dealing with right now? Anxiety! That’s all I'm going to say, because I honestly think I’ve said enough about my problems. It makes me kind of uncomfortable shouting my fears into the internet because... it makes me feel guilty? I don’t know. Just... anxious. That’s my problem. 

how can someone win you over? If they display an extensive knowledge of one of my fandoms then I’m instantly sold. Do you know how hard it is to find fans outside of the internet sometimes, and even in the internet? I’m so down to get in any amount of fandom talk!