#but ah. maybe next time i just record my own progress personally so there's nothing to compare myself too

[desperatepleasures]

oh nooooo just got hit by the Inadequacies!!!

[aishangotome]

Minamoto no Yoshitsune: Chapter 4

♡———♡

Read Chapter 3 here.

♡———♡

Yoritomo: I’m the man who tried to kill his own brother.

A shiver ran down my spine, and at the same time, I felt like something was connecting in my head…

(Ah…!)

Yoshitsune: —Contradictions exist within everyone.

Yoshitsune: There is only one person I know who can cut that down.

(Maybe…)

(Could it be that Yoshitsune-sama was talking about Yoritomo-sama...?)

Yoritomo: Well then. Shall we end the conversation here? I'll inform Kagetoki about the job.

Yoshino: Ah, yes...! Thank you very much.

I stopped my thoughts, which probably wouldn't lead to an answer, and bowed to Yoritomo-sama.

(In any case, I feel like I've made some progress.)

-

Thus, my new life gradually changes its colors...

Kagetoki: Yoshino, please check and sort these scrolls as I taught you yesterday.

Yoshino: Understood!

(I'll do my best to help today too.)

Following Kagetoki-san's instructions, who is mainly responsible for the shogunate's internal affairs, I've been doing simple chores like organizing documents and taking minutes of meetings for the past few days.

(If I make a mistake, Kagetoki-san will calmly question the cause, so I have to be careful!)

I spread the scroll on the desk with a bit of nervousness.

The scroll I was given was a record of the calculations for the necessary troops and provisions for the battle with Yoshitsune-sama.

Yoshino: We need this much food...

Kagetoki-san, who was sitting across from me, reacted to my murmured words.

Kagetoki: This battle will be larger than ever before.

Kagetoki: We need to gather them from various places and prepare them in abundance.

(Even so, I'm surprised that they've calculated everything down to such detail.)

The scroll also detailed the number of soldiers needed to transport the provisions.

(Just to transport the provisions, this many people are needed!)

Yoshino: It must be really tough to fight a war.

Kagetoki: Of course it is. It's not just about fighting.

Kagetoki: If we run out of provisions on the way, the lives of the soldiers will be in danger.

Kagetoki: We need to secure the routes and personnel for transporting provisions, and then build our tactics based on that.

Kagetoki: Naturally, we also need information about the enemy.

Yoshino: ...It's like the battle starts from the preparation stage...

Kagetoki: Yes. There's no room for delays or misjudgments.

(I see, even one mistake could cost many lives...)

Kagetoki-san's words, which always sound harsh, seem to take on a different meaning when I hear these kinds of stories.

(Kagetoki-san doesn't compromise because he thinks so deeply about the shogunate.)

Kagetoki: What is it? Why are you staring at me?

Yoshino: N-no.. it's nothing. I'll let you know when I'm done.

I hurriedly returned my gaze to the scroll and started working.

About an hour later...

Morinaga: Hey, you're working hard.

Tamamo: I brought you a reward.

Yoshino: Ah, Morinaga-san! And Tamamo too.

(They came to check on me...!)

Tamamo and Morinaga-san visited me, carrying a furoshiki bundle in their hands.

Kagetoki-san, still looking at the scroll, replied to them.

Kagetoki: Eating and drinking in the archives is prohibited.

Tamamo: Don't be so stiff. I had the best shops in Kamakura make these sweets.

Yoshino: Eh, you had them made...? Tamamo did?

Tamamo: I asked my favorite shop. I thought I'd let you try them too.

Yoshino: You already have a favorite shop!?

(Even though you haven't been in Kamakura for long.)

Tamamo: Building a foundation is essential for a fun life.

Tamamo: Sweet shops, restaurants, kimono shops... Oh, and recently I've made more acquaintances at gambling dens too.

Yoshino: Even gambling dens...?

(His range is too wide!)

Kagetoki: Morinaga, the gambling den was your doing, wasn't it?

Kagetoki: Refrain from taking an already suspicious creature to a suspicious place.

Tamamo: How rude to call this nine-tailed fox a suspicious creature.

Morinaga-san laughed nonchalantly next to Tamamo.

Morinaga: Tamamo is a good gambler, and it's fun to take him along.

Tamamo: Morinaga is also surprisingly strong, despite his fluffy appearance.

(Morinaga-san is good at gambling. It's surprising, but somehow I can imagine it...)

Kagetoki: You two are a troublesome combination.

Kagetoki-san said flatly, moving the scroll from the desk.

Kagetoki: Well, if the offering is sweets, I'll accept them. Bring them out.

Kagetoki: Yoshino, let's take a break.

(Huh? He said 'eating and drinking in the archives is prohibited' earlier.)

Yoshino: Do you like sweets?

Tamamo: The epitome of unexpectedness. Your personality should be more suited to savory foods.

Kagetoki: I don't particularly like them.

Kagetoki: Sweets enhance brain function. Consuming them is a result of prioritizing work efficiency.

Yoshino: That's your reason!?

Kagetoki-san continues to speak with a straight face.

(He's serious. It's very much like him...)

Kagetoki: Since we're at it, I'll bring out the ones I carry with me too.

(What is this...!?)

A mountain of tsubaki mochi (camellia rice cakes) appeared from the opened furoshiki cloth.

Kagetoki-san calmly piled them up on the desk.

Yoshino: Oh, isn't that too much?

Kagetoki: This is normal.

(...Is it really?)

Kagetoki: Since we're stopping work, it's better to take in sugar all at once.

Yoshino: Huh?

Tamamo: Who can eat this much tsubaki mochi?

Tamamo complained while sitting down next to Morinaga-san.

Kagetoki: You're a luxurious fox. If you insist, I don't mind sharing my mizuame (starch syrup) with you.

Tamamo: ...Oh? What do you want me to do with mizuame?

Tamamo narrowed his eyes, unusually wary.

Kagetoki: Eating it with mizuame will increase the sweetness even more. The taste will also change, so you won't get tired of eating it, right?

Yoshino: What an extreme idea...!

Morinaga: That's Kagetoki for you.

(The way he dismisses it with a single word, Morinaga-san is quite easygoing...)

Tamamo: Kagetoki, you... don't put mizuame on my sweets, absolutely not.

As Tamamo was admonishing Kagetoki-san while taking out the contents of his furoshiki, footsteps approached.

Shigehira: What are you all doing here?

(Shigehira-san!)

Tamamo: Oh, Shigehira. Did the smell lure you here?

Shigehira: What smell? I just came to return the book I borrowed...

Shigehira, holding books under his arm, looked at the desk and opened his eyes wide in surprise.

Shigehira: ...What's with that mountain of tsubaki mochi!?

(Ah, a good reaction... I knew it.)

Morinaga: It's Kagetoki's.

Shigehira: Ah, the usual... as always, prioritizing efficiency.

Kagetoki: You came at the right time, Shigehira. Let's give you some too.

Shigehira: No, I'm working, so I'm fine...

Morinaga: Come on, come on. Take a break, take a break.

Shigehira: W-wait...

Morinaga-san, with a smiling face, put his hands on Shigehira's shoulders and forcibly made him sit down.

Tamamo: Shigehira, we have sweets here too.

Morinaga: You can eat as much as you like.

Shigehira: Please stop talking to me like I'm a child.

Shigehira-san, trapped between the two, sighed in resignation.

Our eyes met, and he gave me a slightly annoyed look.

Shigehira: Just so you know, I didn't bring any sweets as a gift.

Yoshino: It's okay, don't worry about it!

(That's what you're concerned about? You're so serious and conscientious...)

Tamamo: Well then, let's eat.

Yoshino: Yes! Let's dig in.

The sweets Tamamo and the others had prepared were kinton (sweet mashed chestnut).

My face naturally brightened at the sight of the many tsubaki mochi and kinton.

(They both look delicious!)

I took a bite of a tsubaki mochi, and a gentle sweetness filled my mouth.

Yoshino: This is so delicious!

Kagetoki: Is that so? I get them from the closest shop to the Imperial Palace, so if you like them, it's easy to get more.

Yoshino: Even the location of the shop is rational...

(He's thorough.)

As I admired him, Tamamo offered me a plate.

Tamamo: Yoshino, you should try my recommendation too.

Tamamo: This kinton is made by a craftsman with decades of experience using the finest ingredients.

Yoshino: Thank you! I'll try the kinton now...

Yoshino: Wow, what an elegant taste!

Tamamo: Right? That shop makes other fine sweets too.

Yoshino: Wow... Tamamo, you're a yokai fox, but you're quite the gourmet.

Tamamo: I don't need nutrition like humans, but... food is my entertainment.

Tamamo: Delicious food pleases my tongue.

Tamamo: I'll take you there sometime, Yoshino.

Yoshino: Really? I'm looking forward to it!

(I've heard Kamakura is a lively town, I'd like to see it too!)

Yoshino: Even so... Tamamo, you're amazing, you've already settled into life in Kamakura so well.

Tamamo tilted his head at my words, which were tinged with envy.

Tamamo: But I hear you're often talked about among the samurai.

Yoshino: Eh? Why?

Morinaga: Ah. It's because you've been treating their injuries after training recently, right?

(I have been doing that as part of my work at the Imperial Palace...)

I blinked in surprise.

Shigehira: ...I heard that at the training grounds, they're fighting over who gets treated by you first.

Yoshino: W-what?

(I had no idea...!)

Kagetoki: What a pointless competition.

Morinaga: It's a group of men, after all. Girls have never approached the training grounds before.

Morinaga: Well... if they want to be treated that badly, it means I can be stricter with them, right?

Yoshino: ...Morinaga-san, your smile is a bit scary.

(Morinaga-san''s training is really merciless... even though he's usually so kind.)

Yoshino: But, even if they want to be treated, there's only so much I can do, and I haven't done anything major.

Tamamo: But I'm sure the orders for medicine within the Imperial Palace have increased, haven't they?

Yoshino: Yes, little by little...

Thankfully, I've made more acquaintances while working at the Imperial Palace, and they call on me when they need medicine.

(I'll have to wait until I break my contract with Tamamo to open my own shop, but...)

(I'm so happy to be able to work as a pharmacist like this!)

Shigehira: Even so...

Shigehira-kun glanced at me while eating tsubaki mochi.

Shigehira: It's a big deal just to go to war, but it's crazy to volunteer to be worked hard like that.

Yoshino: I-is that so?

Shigehira: I can't understand it.

Shigehira: Even though you took on the pharmacist job yourself... Kagetoki-san also readily gave you work.

Kagetoki: Unfortunately, I'm the type to use anything that's available.

Morinaga-san rested his cheek on his hand and looked at Kagetoki-san with amusement.

Morinaga: So, how is it? How is Yoshino's work?

Kagetoki: Well...

(Uh...)

I flinched as his gaze pierced through his glasses.

(Especially when I first started, I didn't know the ropes and caused Kagetoki-san a lot of trouble...)

Kagetoki: Since she hasn't run away, it seems she at least has guts.

Tamamo and Shigehira: .....

Yoshino: Huh?

Morinaga: Many vassals have their spirits broken by Kagetoki's strictness.

Kagetoki: She doesn't particularly excel at anything, but she seems to have good discipline.

Tamamo: Hey, can't you praise her a little more properly?

Morinaga: No. It's rare for Kagetoki to say this much.

(Oh... I guess I can take that as a small sign of approval...)

Yoshino: Thank you very much, Kagetoki-san!

Kagetoki: I don't recall doing anything deserving of thanks. I'll continue to work you hard, so be prepared.

Yoshino: ...I'll do my best, so please go easy on me.

Even as I replied, a warmth spread through my chest.

(I hope I can gradually get to know the people of the shogunate like this.)

Even though I've only helped out a little, I'm starting to understand how the samurai are approaching the battle with conviction.

Shigehira: Hmm...

Tamamo: Good for you, Shigehira.

Shigehira: Huh?

Tamamo: You came to check on Yoshino, worried that Kagetoki might be bullying her, didn't you?

Shigehira: ...

(What does that mean?)

Tamamo: You said it earlier, right? That you came to return a book.

Shigehira: Yes, and then I just happened to find everyone here.

Tamamo: Is that so? But you seemed to be looking for Yoshino earlier.

(He's lying!?)

Shigehira: You were watching!? ...It's not like that, it's just Tamamo's imagination.

Morinaga: Shigehira is so cute.

Shigehira: Stop with the malicious jokes... ugh!

(W-wait...)

Morinaga-san shoved a tsubaki mochi into Shigehira-san's mouth as he was about to retort.

Morinaga: Now, now, now. Here, have a sweet and calm down.

Shigehira: Mmm...

Shigehira-san glared at Morinaga-san with a resentful look, perhaps because his mouth was full.

Yoshino: S-Shigehira-san, are you alright? Do you need some tea?

Shigehira: ...Being kind won't make me approve of you.

Yoshino: I'm not thinking about that. But...

(If what Tamamo said is true, I want to thank him properly.)

I turned to Shigehira-san and bowed my head.

Yoshino: Thank you for your concern.

Yoshino: I accepted the job at the Imperial Palace for my own reasons, and I haven't achieved any real results yet...

Yoshino: But recently, I feel like I've gotten closer to everyone through my work, and I'm happy about that.

Shigehira: ...Oh, really.

Yoshino: Yes!

I'm probably not mistaken that Shigehira-san's ears, turned away from me, are slightly flushed.

Tamamo: You've become quite positive.

--CHOICES--

I hope so

I do not think so?

Not yet

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

Yoshino: I hope so.

(I feel like my thoughts are gradually settling.)

(If it were now... could I have given a different answer than before?)

(But...)

Ironically, it was Yoshitsune-sama, my greatest enemy, who gave me the opportunity to change.

(The next time we meet will be on the battlefield. I need to make up my mind before then.)

Such days continued...

-

As I was walking down the corridor after finishing some work, I passed by some maids.

Maid 1: Are you going to the festival later?

Maid 2: Of course! I was invited by someone I've been interested in, so I'm really looking forward to it.

(The festival... Oh right, it's being held in town today.)

(I don't have anything to do after this, maybe I'll go.)

-

(Wow...!)

I walked through the evening streets of Kamakura, listening to the festival music.

Lanterns were hung from the eaves, and the stalls were bustling with people.

(It's fun just walking around like this.)

(I wanted to invite others too, but...)

(I decided on the spur of the moment, so I couldn't.)

(Everyone is probably busy preparing for the war anyway.)

As I walked, the smell of food from the stalls tickled my nose.

(I haven't had dinner yet, maybe I'll buy something. Let's check out the different stalls!)

After browsing a few stalls, I bought some dango (rice dumplings).

(I'm a little tired.)

While avoiding the crowds, I somehow ended up behind the shrine.

(It's a bit scary because there's no one around...)

As I tried to hurry back...

Samurai 1: Hey, hey, are you alone, miss?

Samurai 2: It's a lonely festival to be alone, right? We'll play with you.

(Who are these people...?)

Suddenly, I was surrounded by several men who had called out to me from the darkness with rough voices.

(They have swords at their waists, and judging by their appearance, they're probably ronin...)

Samurai 3: We just arrived in Kamakura tonight, so we don't have anyone to play with either.

(Oh no, what should I do...?)

Yoshino: Excuse me... I'm with someone.

I lightly bowed my head and tried to pass by, but...

Samurai 1: Don't be so scared, okay?

Samurai 2: Being alone in a place like this, you must have been expecting something, right?

Yoshino: No...

My arm was roughly grabbed and pulled towards them.

Yoshino: Let me go!

I tried to shake them off, but they wouldn't budge.

Samurai 2: Relax. We'll be gentle.

Yoshino: No, someone, please...

Just as I was about to be dragged into the bushes...

???: It's quite sinful to take advantage of a woman at a festival.

A calm voice echoed from somewhere.

(Huh?)

Samurai 1: Who's there!?

The next moment, someone jumped down from a tree.

???: This way.

Yoshino: Ah...

My arm was quickly pulled, and I bumped into the person's chest.

I looked up in confusion, but...

(A fox mask...?)

The man wearing a fox mask distanced himself from the ronin and stepped forward, shielding me.

Samurai 1: W-Who are you!?

???: I'm no one worth mentioning.

Samurai 2: Don't mess with us! Give us back the woman!

Yoshino: Watch out!

The ronin, their eyes gleaming, drew their sword in unison and lunged at the man.

(Eek...!)

???: If you insist on attacking, I have no choice.

???: --Prepare yourselves.

With a flash as he gripped the hilt of his sword...

Samurai 1: "Gah..."

In an instant, several swords were knocked away.

Yoshino: No way...

(T-This fierce swordsmanship... I remember it.)

(Not just that, but the voice I've been hearing...)

(It can't be... but...)

As the stunned ronin slowly backed away, the man in the fox mask stepped forward.

Samurai 2: R-Retreat!

One of them shouted, and they all started running away.

After watching them leave, the man in the fox mask silently turned his back to me.

(Ah, he's leaving!)

Yoshino: U-Um...

Yoshino: Yoshitsune-sama...?

???: ...

When I called out to him hesitantly, the man turned around and removed his mask...

Yoshitsune: How did you know?

He tilted his head in wonder.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 5

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[archiveikemen]

Abe no Yasuchika Main Story — Chapter 08

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading and playing their games.

read this before interacting with my posts

content warning for this chapter: creepy dolls

Yasuchika: Lord Akihito and Ibuki aren’t my friends.

Yasuchika: That kind of bond only exists in the Shogunate and Rebel Army… not us.

Yasuchika: What we have is a very complicated and unstable bond.

(Complicated and unstable… bond.)

Yuno: Did something happen between the three of you in the past?

Yasuchika: Well…

(Ah, that's the face he makes when he wants to avoid the subject… looks like I’m starting to understand him a little better.)

I decided it was best to leave that question for another time.

(I want to get to know Ibuki and Lord Akihito while I’m in Kyoto.)

Yasuchika: Let’s go to the Imperial Court together tomorrow.

Yasuchika: I’ll introduce you to my subordinates and we’ll get to work with our investigation right away.

Yuno: Okay!

— The next day.

Yasuchika: Allow me to introduce this lady to all of you. This is Yuno.

Yasuchika: She’s the princess who made a deal with the nine-tailed fox. She’s also my guest and personal assistant.

I was brought to the Onmyoji Dormitory located in the Imperial Court.

Yuno: I’m Yuno, it's nice to meet you!

Their piercing gazes made me shudder.

(Even though I have powers of the nine-tailed fox, I’m still an ordinary human being after all. This is rather uncomfortable.)

(... Maybe this is the kind of look Yasuchika always gets from them.)

Yasuchika: Let’s start the meeting.

Yasuchika: Proceed with your reports regarding the investigation.

All of his subordinates immediately straightened their backs at his words.

Subordinate 1: We’re currently investigating twelve cases of strange happenings…

Subordinate 1: Nine of these cases seem to be the doings of medium level ayakashi.

Subordinate 1: These are the ayakashi we have identified —

Everyone listened attentively to the report.

Yasuchika: How’s the progress of repairing the barrier?

Subordinate 2: … We faced some disruptions caused by ayakashi, so it hasn't made any progress from before you went to Kamakura.

Yasuchika: Understood. I’ll personally have a look at it in the afternoon.

His subordinates seemed relieved to hear that.

(Yasuchika just came back, and he’s already so busy.)

Subordinate 3: And also, Lord Yasuchika… I would like to request another amulet.

Subordinate 3: I’m scared I’ll run into an ayakashi.

Subordinate 4: Me too!

Yasuchika: I don’t mind giving you one. But if you keep relying on my amulets, how will you ever improve?

Yasuchika: It’d do you well to fight by yourself as long as you're not in a life threatening position.

Subordinate 5: But we’re just amateurs compared to you, Lord Yasuchika.

Subordinate 5: We might end up being a hindrance if we get involved.

Subordinate 1: That's right. I think it's better for us to focus on supporting you in your work from the sidelines…

Yasuchika: — I see.

(... They rely on Yasuchika so much.)

(Doesn’t Yasuchika feel burdened?)

I felt like it was impossible for me to ask him any questions I had.

Yasuchika: Fine by me. Come to my room at night to collect the amulets, I’ll have them ready by then.

Subordinate 3: Thank you so much!

All the subordinates bowed their heads with smiles on their faces.

Subordinate 4: Also… I have a few messages to pass to you, Lord Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: Are they more important than the meeting’s current topic?

Subordinate 4: It’s Lord Konoe. He has some questions about the recent divination results…

Yasuchika: The message content is nothing important, but the sender is an important person.

Yasuchika: I’m going to take a quick look at the barrier repairs.

Yasuchika stood up languidly and placed a hand on my shoulder.

(Ah…)

Yasuchika: Someone please show Yuno the past investigation records.

Subordinate 1: Understood!

Yuno: Thank you. Have a safe trip, Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: Sorry. I’ll be back in the afternoon.

Yasuchika waved and left the room.

Subordinate 1: Yuno, these are the investigation records.

Yuno: Pardon me, I’ll be borrowing these.

I read the investigation records, and ended up doing some paperwork together with Yasuchika’s subordinates.

(... It seems that most of the important tasks are completed by Yasuchika.)

I approached one of the subordinates who was taking a break and drinking tea.

Yuno: Um, is Yasuchika a great man in everyone's eyes?

Subordinate 1: Of course!

Everyone else nodded their heads in agreement.

Subordinate 1: It’s even said that Lord Yasuchika might be the second coming of Abe no Seimei.

Subordinate 1: I heard that he’s been possessing magic ever since he was born.

Subordinate 1: Back then, the head of the Abe clan took great care of Lord Yasuchika…

Yuno: Really…?

(I wonder how stressful it is when the people around you have such high expectations of you.)

I let out a small sigh as I thought of how Yasuchika would always be smiling despite the amount of burden he carried on his shoulders.

— That afternoon.

Yasuchika: I’m sorry you had to help me with paperwork.

Yuno: It's fine. That was nothing compared to the amount of work you have to do.

After helping Yasuchika with his work, we went to deal with some ayakashi together.

Yuno: You have to repair the barrier and deal with ayakashi at the same time. It must be so hard on you.

Yuno: And on top of those, you still have tons of pending tasks piling up.

Yasuchika: I’m a genius, remember?

(You’re not wrong to say that, but…)

Yuno: … That doesn’t mean that they can dump all their work on you.

Yuno: I just wonder if there’s anyone in there who has ever put themselves in your shoes…

Yasuchika: …

Yuno: I’m just an outsider, so I’m sorry if I sound like I’m being too meddlesome. But I’m genuinely worried about you, Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: There's nothing I can’t do. — When there's someone who’s capable of completing any task, people would want to let them do all the work.

Yasuchika: But I don't find it a burden.

Yasuchika: I use it as a way to find out the weaknesses of the court nobles above me in rank and use them to my advantage.

Yuno: That's…

I bit my lip when I was reminded of what happened with Lord Sanemitsu.

(At that time, Yasuchika threatened Lord Sanemitsu all the way. He also saved the victim.)

(If he’s not doing it against his will, then I have nothing to say.)

(But is he really fine with it?)

Yuno: Alright…

Yuno: If there's anything I can help you with while I’m here, even chores, please don't hesitate to let me know.

Yasuchika: Thanks. You’re so kind towards everyone.

Yuno: — I wish that were true, but I’m actually just doing this for my self-interest.

Yasuchika: Self-interest?

Yuno: You’re someone who has taught me a lot of things I never knew before.

Yuno: I want to do whatever I can to express my gratitude for you, even though I’m not as genius as you are.

After staring at me in silence for a brief moment, Yasuchika mumbled.

Yasuchika: You being worried about me like mad feels as if you’re trying to find my weaknesses.

(What…)

Yuno: You make it sound like I’m the unhinged one…

Yasuchika: In that case, I’ll treat it as your revenge against me. Yeah?

Yasuchika: You’re the first person to ever say something like that to me.

Yuno: If your family members were here, I’m sure they would’ve said the same thing.

Yuno: One of your subordinates told me that the head of the Abe Clan took good care of you.

Yasuchika: …

Yasuchika: Took care of me, you say?

(Yasuchika?)

I felt the air surrounding Yasuchika grow tense.

Yasuchika: That's right. I was provided with a special form of education and raised well. Very well.

(That sounded cold. But why…?)

— I won’t be getting an answer to that question anytime soon.

Yasuchika: This place is so foggy that I can’t see my own feet. Are you okay? Yuno.

Yuno: Yes. Be careful, Yasuchika.

It was said that there had been an ayakashi attacking people in the forest. I rubbed my arms due to the cold air creeping up from the ground.

(It's so dark here even at this time of day… it gives me the creeps.)

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of the hem of a child’s kimono behind a tree.

(There's a child here? It’s too dangerous, I need to stop them.)

Yuno: Hey! Wait.

I ran to the tree and grabbed their arm—

Yasuchika: Yuno, don't!

Yuno: Wha—?

???: … Whaat is it?

The little girl’s neck turned with a creaking sound.

(Eeek!)

Anyone could tell by that she wasn't a human being just by looking at that lifeless face—

(A doll!?)

Doll: Shall we go together?

My vision started to shake.

(W-What.)

(...! I’m falling—)

The scenery before me twisted and I felt a floating sensation that made my stomach feel sick.

I lost consciousness.

…

(Ugh…)

I woke up in a place I’ve never seen before.

Yuno: This is…?

Doll: Over here.

I gasped when I heard its voice coming from behind me.

Doll: Everyone. Companion. Big sis.

Yuno: … Everyone?

The sound of footsteps could be heard the moment the doll stretched out its hand.

Doll: Companion. Companion…

Dolls with empty eyes that looked like little children surrounded me.

Their joints twisted in humanly impossible ways —

All Dolls: KyaHAHAHAHAHA!

Yuno: Ahh…

I immediately crouched when all the dolls rushed towards me.

(Someone— save me!)

???: I’ve kept you waiting. Your genius Onmyoji has come to your rescue!

(Ah…)

All Dolls: Eeeeeeeekkk

Yasuchika: Of course I would come to save my precious dear assistant.

Yuno: Yasuchika!

Yasuchika: Sorry I’m late. You’re safe now.

(He came to save me.)

I felt so relieved that I wanted to start sobbing, all my anxiety had vanished.

Yasuchika moved his hands in the air, in a motion that looked like he was cutting some invisible strings.

The dolls crumbled to the ground.

Yasuchika: It escaped, huh.

Yuno: Escaped?

That doll’s body was no longer moving, as if its soul had left.

Yasuchika: There was an ayakashi in that empty doll.

Yasuchika: Where we are right now, is a place situated between the two worlds.

Yasuchika: What happened to you is what we call “spirited away”.

*神隠し (kamikakushi) or "spirited away" is a phenomenon in Japanese forklore whereby a person suddenly dies or just disappears because they offended the gods. There were cases of people being kidnapped to the spirit realm this way. But of course, these are all just myths.

Yuno: That’s the phenomenon whereby a person suddenly disappears into thin air, right?

Yasuchika: Bingo. It’s an ayakashi strong enough to pull off such a thing… a repeat offender.

Yasuchika: What a nuisance. Let's get rid of it quickly.

Yasuchika pulled out a silver sword from his waist.

Yuno: What are you going to do?

Yasuchika: I will use the traces of magic left on the doll to force the ayakashi to come back.

He pressed the tip of the sword against the doll’s chest.

Yasuchika: — Come back, lost children. It's a dead end.

(Ah.)

All the dolls began rattling at the same time.

Doll: Kyaaaaaa!

A black smoke rose from the dolls’ bodies and turned into a huge lump…

(What is that!?)

Yasuchika: So this is the main form. It seems that multiple ayakashi have merged together by eating one another.

Yasuchika: That’s why they were able to control the dolls separately.

Yasuchika: It's very powerful, so be careful.

Contrary to what he just said, Yasuchika turned around to look at me with a relaxed expression.

Yasuchika: Yuno. After I weaken the ayakashi, you can use your fox powers on it.

Yuno: O-Okay.

Ayakashi: Onmyoji… Abe no Yasuchika.

(...!)

Yasuchika: … Heh. You know who I am.

Ayakashi: Just as that man said… you’re… so annoying.

Yuno: That man?

The ayakashi made eye contact with Yasuchika nd its large hand swiped at him at lightning speed.

(Oh no!)

Yasuchika: How unfortunate! Your luck is so rotten today, don't you think? For you to run into me.

[haloshornsinkstains]

Kisses Under the Mistletoe:   (Formerly) Undateables Edition

I’m enjoying these mistletoe kisses headcanons too much, I should have started earlier. I’m trying to get a few more festive pieces written before Christmas, and hopefully some for New Years (intermittent inernet problems permitting). And make this place a bit prettier.

Diavolo

When Diavolo called for you to visit his office you thought you were prepared for just about anything, after all you’d had plenty of experience of his eccentricities and whims at this point.

So when he started grilling you on festive traditions in the human world while you sat beside him at his desk you weren’t exactly surprised, although the breadth of the information he’d gathered to grill you on was a little overwhelming.

You almost felt bad admitting you weren’t particularly familiar with the festival of Saturnalia, partly because of the way Diavolo’s face fell and partly because it sounded wild. 

As you progressed through various traditions you grew more and more comfortable, shedding the usual layer of formality that being in Diavolo’s presence seemed to make you grow, adding your own anecdotes about traditions you followed personally.

He’s writing things down, and you assume, making plans for some kind of festive celebration in the Devildom. It’s all so normal you let your guards down, and as such, get blindsided by his next question.

“What about mistletoe? What is the importance of mistletoe?”

You blink a few times, trying to get the cogs in your brain to function properly. “Oh, um, it’s become tradition to kiss under mistletoe. I think it’s supposed to bring luck…”

Diavolo frowns, retrieving something from his drawer and holding it out to you to inspect. “Then perhaps I should ask Asmodeus why he gifted me this?”

You’re staring at the mistletoe like it’s going to jump out and bite you. (Stranger things have happened in the Devildom, even if this particular plant looks pretty harmless).

“Oh!” Diavolo beams in a way that worries you. “I suppose we should kiss now!”

y/n.exe has stopped working

“I… I can’t! Lucifer would kill me! I mean, you’re the Future King and I’m just… me?”

Diavolo frowns and for a moment you see your life flash before your eyes. If for no other reason than Lucifer is probably going to murder you for upsetting his Lord. 

“But, y/n, I would like to kiss you if you would let me.” He’s still grinning mischievously but his eyes are soft with affection. “You’re special y/n. And if Lucifer shouts we can just tell him it was my idea, he rarely shouts at me.”

Your cheeks are on fire but you nod, letting Diavolo cup your face between two large hands and press his lips to yours. The kiss is warm and gentle, almost chaste. He kisses you like he’s afraid he’ll break you, and to be fair he probably could, but it leaves you heart racing and lips tingling when he pulls away.

Barbatos

It’s only been two days and Barbatos would very much like to find out who exactly told his Lord all about human festive traditions, in particular who gave him a record of ‘festive’ music. He just wants to talk. (Not that he would ever say this to Diavolo, he is an impeccable butler after all).

You had been roped in to coming to the castle to help with the decorations, but as you wandered past the kitchen with a box of tinsel and baubles you heard a tired sigh that sounded awfully familiar.

Popping your head through the door you spot Barbatos frowning at a mixing bowl.

“Everything alright in here?”

Barbatos never jumps at anything, but his eyes do look a fraction wider than usual when he turns to look at you.

“Perhaps you could assist me? Lord Diavolo asked me to make a ‘Christmas Cake’, if you’re familiar I could use your expertise. I’m not as experienced with baking human world delicacies.”

 You grin, stepping inside and settling your box down on an unused counter and heading to his side to help. “There are some things even you don’t know?” You laugh softly, looking down at the mixing bowl. “It’s been a while since I made one, but I can try to help? The secret to my grandma’s recipe was usually a lot of alcohol though, she’d bake it months in advance and keep topping it up...”

The two of you bake together, and if Barbatos notices the pink flush on your cheeks whenever your body bruises against his, or when he wipes flour from your cheek, he is polite enough not to mention it.

You’ve just put the cake in the oven when Barbatos moves over to the forgotten box of decorations, rifling through curiously before pulling something out.

“Y/N, are there supposed to be plants in here?”

You walk over to see what he’s talking about just as Lord Diavolo walks in with a beaming smile.

“Y/N! Here you are! Oh, I know what that is!” He’s gesturing to what you now realise is mistletoe dangling between Barbatos’ gloved fingers. “That’s mistletoe, Asmodoeus and Solomon were telling me all about it. You’re supposed to kiss under it for luck!”

You’re making up a plan to murder your friends for teaching Diavolo about this while Barbatos studies you thoughtfully.

“If you’ll allow me?”

His voice startles you and you look back up at him for a moment before the words register. You just managed to squeak out a yes before he kisses you and you almost feel your soul ascend out of your body. Barbatos’ kiss is precise and practiced in a way that reminds you just how many more centuries of experience he has on you.

There’s nothing obscene or improper about the kiss, but when you pull away you’re feeling lightheaded and a little weak in the knees. Barbatos smiles just a little before turning back to Diavolo.

“Now, about the cake my lord.”

Simeon

Simeon, unlike the demons, seems to be at least somewhat aware of human world festive celebrations. Some of his knowledge is a bit out of date, but he’s better at this than you expected.

By the time you get to Purgatory hall the place is already pretty well decorated, the decorations lean more towards the religious but you still find tinsel and even a few paper snowflakes dotted here and there.

Simeon greets you as you enter their main common area with a beatific smile and an excited wave. “Oh Y/N, Solomon said there was something I should show you.”

You follow him, only a little wary, Solomon might cause trouble on occasion but Simeon is usually not involved. Usually.

He stops in one of the doorways that you’re pretty sure you’ve never been near before. In fact the corridor behind it looks pretty much unused. It doesn’t bode well for this being entirely innocent, though at least with Simeon involved it’s probably safe.

Coming to a halt he gestures up and you look up towards a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway. Which would explain why it was so far from the frequently used areas of the halls. You smile softly, shifting your gaze from the mistletoe to Simeon.

“Solomon told you to show me this hmm?” You grin, noting the way Simeon’s eyes flick away from yours. “Did he tell you why?”

“Maybe he mentioned it, maybe he didn’t.”

You laugh, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss that leaves you both breathless and flustered. For all he is an angel, Simeone seems to know an awful lot about kissing and how to do it so you’re weak in the knees.

“You know, if you wanted to kiss me you only had to ask.”

“But this seemed seasonally appropriate.” He hums, gently stroking your hair.

“Very seasonally appropriate. And I guess we don’t need to worry about Luke wandering up here and scolding us.” You laugh, kissing his cheek softly.

“Ah yes, that too.”

Solomon

Any mistletoe shenanigans are entirely Solomon’s own doing and he knows exactly what he’s up to.

He’s been helping you with your magical studies recently, much to Satan’s chagrin, and this evening you decided to study in the House of Lamentation in front of the warmth of the fire.

The night starts wearing on and after a few hours of study you’re getting restless. Solomon pauses to glance over at you and sighs. He knows as well as you do that you’re no longer taking this in.

“Shall we take a break?”

You sigh in relief. “Please? I can make us some tea.”

He nods and follows you to the kitchen where Asmo, Mammon and Belphie were sat in the middle of a discussion. You greeted them happily, laughing as Asmo flirted happily with Solomon. You keep up idle conversation while you make tea, missing the small gesture Solomon makes with a free hand and the ripple of magic in the air.

“Hmm, Y/N, what’s that above your head?”

You pause, glancing up as Solomon sidles over with a smile. You were sure you hadn’t noticed the mistletoe hanging there before, and it was a strange place to put mistletoe, but then again you were busy chatting so maybe it had just slipped your mind.

“You’re familiar with the tradition right?”

Solomon holds your chin between two fingers, suddenly very close, his eyes studying your face questioningly. Somewhere in the background you can hear Mammon exploding and Asmo talking about romance but it’s all lost on you with Solomon’s lips hovering so close to your own. 

You don’t trust your voice to answer him, but you do just about manage to nod. You catch the expression of triumph for a brief second before he kisses you. You expected something quick and chaste, but those expectations were swiftly dashed when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip. Any other day you know you’d have given in, but the clamour of voices behind you are a stark reminder of where you are and who your audience is so you press gently against his chest.

“Oi! Whaddya think you’re doin’ kissing my human like that?!”

“Oh hush Mammon, I think it’s very sweet.”

Embarrassed, you grab the tea and Solomon’s arm, practically dragging him out of the kitchen with Belphie’s eyes burning holes in your back.

“You did that on purpose!”

Solomon shrugged. “Perhaps I just saw an excuse to kiss that gorgeous face of yours and took it?”

“No one hangs mistletoe above a teapot! You did that to annoy them… wait, did you just call me gorgeous?”

“Perhaps. Now, shall we get back to studying?”

You were going to murder him one day. Maybe after another kiss though.

[twstarchives]

1-2・Guide To A Perfect Camp Experience

Day 1 of Vargas Camp, morning

        ♡—Mirror Chamber—♡

Riddle: Is everyone in the horse-riding club present?

Silver: No, Sebek hasn’t arrived yet.

We were going to leave the dorm together, but he insisted that he was going to serve as Lord Malleus’s guard for as much time as he could... Hm?

Looks like he’s finally here.

Sebek: “You were raised in the Valley of Thorns, so life in nature should be easy for you. The horse-riding club is in safe hands.” ......

I will never forget those words the Young Master so casually said to me.

Please watch me, Young Master! I, Sebek, will definitely... DEFINITELY!!!

Command these weak humans, and guide this horse-riding club I am a part of to a perfect camp experience!

As a guard of Lord Malleus, I will strive to not bring him shame, and live up to all of his expectations!!!

Silver & Riddle: ......

Leona: What a pain... It’s not going to hurt anyone if one person doesn’t go...

Ruggie: Please stop complaining, Leona.

They said everyone has to participate. They might tell us “You’re disbanded!” if you try to skip out.

Floyd: Mornin’, Sea Snake, Crabby~

Ace: Huh? Floyd, that outfit...

Floyd: These? Nice, huh~? I bought them to go with the camp.

I’ve been liking this brand lately, ‘cause their clothes are sturdy and easy to move in.

...Hm? Sea Lion, aren’t your clothes from that one famous brand?

I recognize yours too, Suckerfish! You guys must be pretty psyched up for this~

Ruggie: Shishishi! Your outfit looks good on you too, Floyd.

I actually just took the chance to get my own clothes when I was out buying Leona’s getup.

Leona: You leech...

You better work that off when we’re at camp. My portion of work too.

Ruggie: Roger that!

...I mean, I’m sure you’d still have me do that even if I didn’t snag this outfit.

Sebek: Hmph. If you wear a down jacket in the mountains, it’ll only get pierced by branches and quickly become unusable.

For serious camping endeavors, gear like mine is the standard.

Not to mention its durability. It’s waterproof and has excellent breathability—this is a rain coat Master Lilia recommended to me!

Leona: Ha, so you’re real prepared.

If you’re that scared of the mountains, you’re better off going ahead and spending the whole time trembling in your tent.

Sebek: How dare you...!

Jack: Hey, Sebek. I was wondering about your gear... Is it fine that you’re not wearing your PE uniform?

This goes for Ruggie, Leona, and Floyd too. To be honest, the four of you kind of stand out...

Floyd: Hah? Are you complaining? It’s up to me what I wear.

Jack: Ah, no—I’m not complaining!

It’s just, our camp guidebooks said “On the day of, wear clothes that are easy to move in,” so I was curious.

Leona: It didn’t say “PE uniform” though. These are pretty “easy to move in” clothes if you ask me.

Sebek: Hmph. I think the same.

The fact that Coach Vargas hasn’t said a word to us either is only further proof that nothing’s wrong with this.

Ruggie: I actually thought everyone would show up in outfits like ours.

We’re staying in the mountains for three days, right? Our PE uniforms are so thin, and you can’t really trust their performance.

Epel: That’s true... I didn’t think that far.

Silver: I see. You’re right, there really is no mention of having to wear our PE uniforms. Good eye, Sebek.

Sebek: Heh. You just don’t pay close enough attention.

Vargas: Looks like all the students are here.

Alright, guys. Are you ready to head for Mt. Dwarf?

Deuce: Huh? Did he just say Mt. Dwarf...!?

Ace: Seriously!?

Vargas: Mirror of Darkness! Guide us to Mt. Dwarf!

       ♡—Dwarfs’ Mine - Silent Woods—♡

Ace: When the headmaster said “a certain mountain,” I wasn’t expecting it to be here.

Deuce: I can’t believe we’re here again...

Floyd: What’s that? You guys have been here before?

Deuce: Yeah. We came with Grim and Yuu... Only once though.

Floyd: Hmm. You’ve got some weird taste for coming somewhere this empty.

Maybe you have the same interests as Jade? He loves mountains.

When I told him I was going on this camping trip...

He kept complaining on and on about how “The Mountain Lovers Club is a sports club too!”

You should invite him the next time you go mountain climbing.

Ace: Er, that’s... really tempting, but I’ll decline, I think... Hahaha...

...Plus, Deuce wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Pfft, Floyd, listen to this~ The last time we came here, he was freaking out the whole time!

Deuce: No, I wasn’t. Grim and Yuu were much more scared than me.

Ace: I mean, that’s not wrong. Remembering how scared stiff Grim was still cracks me up——

???: Oiiii!

Ace: Huh? That voice sounded kinda familiar.

Deuce: Someone’s coming towards us...

Grim: You guys showed up so late, yanno. How long were you gonna make me wait!?

Ace & Deuce: Grim!?

          (Yuu runs up to them)

Option 1: Morning!

Option 2: We’ve been waiting for ages!

Ace: Yuu’s with you too!?

Deuce: Why are you guys here?

Grim: ‘Cause we’re the score keepers, duh.

Ace & Deuce: Score keepers?

Crowley: I asked them to do it.

Their job is to keep a record of everyone’s progress with their challenges by taking pictures with the Ghost Camera.

Grim: The genius cameraman Grim and his assistant Yuu are here to keep an eye on you.

We’re gonna capture every moment, even when you mess up!

Ace: Dammit... Get off your high horse.

Crowley: Also, per Coach Vargas’s request...

I talked to the ghosts of Mt. Dwarf and asked them to be assistants for the duration of this camp!

Ghosts: Hello~

Vargas: Thank you, Headmaster.

Crowley: Oh, it’s nothing~ I’m so very kind, after all!

Grim: I feel like I’ve seen those ghosts before...

Vargas: Alright. All members are here...

So now we can get Vargas Camp started.

But before you can start tackling your challenges, there’s something I need all of you to do. That is...

NEXT TIME: Episode 1-3

[miminorenai]

(...I was very happy with the flowers and his feelings.) The distance with Vlad is getting closer little by little. Meanwhile, she heard a certain story from Arthur. “Several corpses have been found in strange state, with every drop of their blood drained.”

CHAPTER 05

The winter sky is always beautiful, but the sky I looked up at after waking up today feels even prettier than usual.

After preparing breakfast as always, I decorate the dining room with the clematis flowers I received from Vlad yesterday.

Vlad “In the language of flowers...it means the joy of travelers.” MC “The joy of travelers...” Vlad “Right. Hey, Mimi. I want you to tell me your worries that you can’t say to your precious ones.” Vlad “If that could make you feel better, I wish for you to live your life to the fullest. Will you listen to my selfishness?”

(...I was very happy with the flowers and Vlad’s feelings.)

The fact that there is a person who accepts the emotion I locked up alone reassures me terribly.

As my lips curled into a broad smile while remembering Vlad’s gentle smile...

Arthur “Morning, Mimi. You’re still the cutest today.”

MC “Haha, yeah yeah. Good morning, Arthur. For breakfast...say, what’s with that ‘I don’t need it’ face?

Arthur “Hmm, *how very perceptive. I was writing until morning, but I can’t see the end of it...so can I just have coffee?”

(*ご明察 - so insightful, as you indicated/presumed. 

MC “Yeah, please wait then. I’ll bring it after I brew one.”

As I return to the dining room after pouring sugar free coffee into a cup...,

Arthur was looking over the newspaper with a serious expression.

MC “Here, thank you for waiting. What’s wrong, with that serious look. Was there any article that’s *bothering you?”

(*気になる - curious, wonder, catch one’s eyes

Arthur “I wonder if everything is to be concerned about. All the articles are nothing but dangerous. Here, take a look.”

On the spread front page, articles on theft and murder...those make me unconsciously looking away.

From the start, this world is not really peaceful and calm, but I can tell it from the *surface that it has become more dangerous just of late.

(*肌 - skin, body

(...There is an intense wealth inequality in this era. Helping hands are not extended towards those seeking aid and labor.)

Recently, there have been repeated cases of aristocrats are being targeted by dissatisfied citizens.

(...The boy who came to Vlad to buy flowers was also wearing worn-out/tattered/battered clothes. Also.)

The hands that grasp the coin tightly to buy the flowers was full of scratches and stained of pitch black, perhaps because he was working in a coal mine.

Somehow I want to do something about it, but I feel frustrated with the reality that I can't change it right away...

Arthur “It seems that various incidents are happening every day, but this incident is just strange...”

MC “...Strange incident?”

Arthur “Several corpses have been found in strange state, with every drop of their blood drained.”

Arthur “In addition, when they examine the body of the corpses, it seems that all of them are ‘having criminal records’ or ‘those who commits some kind of crimes’.”

(...In other words.)

MC “...Are people who have done bad/wrong things being punished?” 

Arthur “I'm not sure what it really means, but it seems that many people interpret it as you say.”

Arthur “It seems that some people deify him and call him ‘The Flowers of Evil’, like a novel world. It’s just...”

Arthur “In reality, it’s not allowed.”

Arthur’s large glass bead eyes are dyed in desperate shades.

Arthur “Different people have their own standards of what’s evil and what’s justice. If everyone judges by their own ethics, the world will go crazy.”

Arthur “That’s why law exists and there’s police force.”

Arthur unwraps his serious look, takes off his glasses, and then he surprisingly smiles.

(...?)

Arthur “So, you should be careful. You don't want to be attacked in the middle of a secret date, right?”

MC “Date...!?”

(...This is surely about Vlad, right? I don’t mean to keep my meeting a secret, but it’s somewhat embarrassing.)

(Here it is —)

(...Arthur is uselessly sharp, so the more you say something, the more it backfires.)

Arthur “Remaining silent, aren’t you? But unfortunately, if you shut your lips, all the more it gets me fired up.”

Arthur “Well then, why did I think you were dating...let me tell you the reasoning now.”

Arthur “First of all, the flowers decorated in the mansion have changing a lot these days. So I guess, the other party is a florist...?”

(He’s sharp...!)

Arthur “The second one, you went to meet the person every day. Recently, you often came back separately from Sebas.”

（ううう…！）(Uuu...!)

Arthur “And the third, you’ve become more and more cute lately. No more excuses with this.”

Arthur “I’m worried~ Can he protect Mimi from this dangerous world?”

All of the sudden, Arthur *squints and as he reaches out to me...

(*目を細め - to close one's eyes partly, to smile with one's whole face, to look fondly at

Arthur “...Hey, Mimi. After all, you should choose the strong and gentle mystery writer right in front of you...OUCH!”

Theo “You think?”

Vincent “Hehe, you won’t consider it, would you? ‘Coz Arthur is the most dangerous one.”

MC “Theo, Vincent...!”

Arthur “Hey...Theo. Don’t you have anything to do with your fist? What would you do if I get dumb?”

Theo “Maybe your cunning will stop working and you’ll become a little bit of a decent person.”

Vincent “Hehe, they are really close friends today too, right, Mimi?”

With a question mark floating in his mind, Theo shrugs his shoulders.

Theo “And there’s no need to be worried. Mimi will be with us for a while.”

Arthur “Oh, did you hold an exhibition for paintings of the artists that Theo take care of?”

Theo “Yeah, Nii-san’s paintings are included too, of course.”

MC “I’m going to help out for a few days before the exhibition opens.”

(...I’m a little lonely that I can’t go to see Vlad, but.)

(I want to do my best to help those two who always help me.)

Vincent “Thank you for your help, Mimi. It would be a little busy, but please take care of us.”

MC “Thank you for letting me help, Vincent, Theo.”

From that day, preparations for the exhibition began immediately...

Theo “Mimi, I told you to display the painting there at the top of the stairs, didn't I?”

MC “Sorry! I’ll fix it right away!”

Theo “Mimi, the artist Francis will bring his painting any time now. Please get it.”

MC “Okay...!”

As I move around in commotion, the outside dyed with night just like that.

(...Wow, I’m so unsteady. I already thought this would be difficult, but it easily surpasses my imagination.)

(But, Theo worked many times than this. This is not the time for complaints, I need to work harder.)

As I walk with enthusiasm, 

I find Theo looks over the painting at the wall in the art gallery, where everyone heads for home while being all listless.

Theo “...”

(His eyes seems like looking at treasures...)

As he shoots through it with pure and beautiful look, like a young boy aware of his first love, Theo’s gaze turns towards me.

Theo “Ah, thanks for your hard work. Did Nii-san go back already...?”

MC “Yeah, he said he would like to help and didn’t give it up, but he went back to mansion to continue with his paintings.”

Theo “Is that so?”

MC “Whose painting you were looking at...?”

Theo “New painting drawn by Nii-san.”

When I line up next to Theo and turns my sight towards the painting he looks at...

(Wow...!)

The scenery of rye field, where its golden heads shine in the sunlight, fills my field of vision.

At a distance, people doing farm work are vividly drawn, 

There’s also a downpour of dazzling light on it.

Just looking at the painting makes me feel calm and full of hopes, as if I’m amidst an early afternoon.

MC “...It’s a wonderful painting that it such a *waste to put it into words.”

(*もったいない - too good, more than one deserves, unworthy of

MC “It looks like a sort of painting that makes you stronger and kinder just by looking at it.”

Theo “...Yeah, I think so too.”

Theo “Nii-san used to draw a rye field, but this time it's a little different.”

Theo “Since he put special feeling into it.”

Theo “Nii-san told me, he drew this painting in the hope it could help and become a salvation for the people who live in this brutal era.”

(People’s salvation...)

(Really, that’s why it’s shaking my heart so strongly and intense...)

Theo “But the world will say this, you know? Paintings do not save people, since they does not satisfy necessities of life.”

Theo “When the world falls into turmoil, arts are discarded as unnecessary before anything else.”

Theo “But that’s...I don’t think it that way.”

When I ask him with just my gaze, Theo’s sea-colored eyes harbor a powerful heat as if wishing for a bright tomorrow.

Theo “This painting, Mozart’s music, and novel written by Arthur and Dazai...”

Theo “Arts sometimes save people’s heart with its absurd strength from unthinkable angles. ...Just like a miracle.”

MC “...”

Theo “Because I’m in such an era, those who want to give hope to people, the talents of those guys in the mansion —“

Theo “I want to cherish it...”

In a dark and hopeless world, people's hearts are easily worn away.

And with worn down hearts, people wounds many things.

At times they hurt the person closest to them, and they even hurt themselves. However —

Vlad “Go before the flowers wither. In flower language, gerbera means hope and progress.” Vlad “May you move forward with hope.”

I think people are also the ones who heal and protect.

(People hurt others, but they also save other people. If so, then I...)

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 25

A/N: So this chapter begins the first mention of COVID-19 for the story.  I know it’s not much but I did want to put a little disclaimer because I know it was a traumatic event for many people, especially those who were affected by it personally.  We will obviously get deeper into it as the story progresses in the next chapters (judging by the date...it’s time!) 

Also, no @’ing me about what happens here with a certain someone.

March 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was paying attention to the news at the airport.

“While the first case of what epidemiologists are referring to as COVID-19 was recorded in Toronto on January 25th, the novel coronavirus is still baffling some scientists in terms of its symptoms.  They range from severe in some, to completely asymptomatic in others.  While there are currently less than twenty cases in Toronto thus far, Ontario health officials have recorded three news cases today.  One is a man in his 60s who returned on a flight from Egypt, while the other two are women in their 60s and 70s returning on a flight from Egypt.  Public health officials are encouraging individuals to wash their hands frequently and exercise caution whenever and wherever possible.”

“Want some hand sanitizer?” John asked from beside her.  He was laid out in the chair beside her while her knees were against her chest.

She nodded, leaving her bag of pretzels in her lap before she extended her hand and he squirted some Purell onto her hand.  John always had everything readily available – hand sanitizer, band aids, healthy granola bars, breath mints – she was sure he probably had a spare hair elastic in his backpack too, and a full surgery kit for all she knew.  She rubbed the sanitizer in between her hands.  “What do you think about all this?” she asked, motioning towards the TV monitor.

John shrugged.  “I’m a bit nervous about it,” he admitted.  “I know that Aryne is taking some extra precautions with Jace.  A lot of her friends from Queen’s ended up going to med school so she’s friends with a lot of doctors and listening to their advice.”

“I guess we should all be.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, right?” John asked rhetorically.  “Better safe than sorry.  What do you think about it?”

Aberdeen pursed her lips slightly.  “I have no clue.  Science goes way above my head.  But if doctors and epidemiologists are going to tell me to do something – or not do something – so I don’t get sick, I’m going to do it – or not do it – whatever.”

“Atta girl,” John smiled.  “Just listen to the experts.”

“That’s why I listen to you about hockey,” she winked.

He laughed out loud.  “You butter me up too much.  What are you looking for?  A granola bar?  You already have pretzels.”

“Not everything with me has to do with food.”

“Really?”

She pinched him.

***

March 5th, 2020

It was 24 Celsius in Los Angeles, and Aberdeen was loving it.  Though the Leafs had suffered a bit of an embarrassing loss to San Jose the night before, today the team had a day off before they had back to back games against the Kings and Ducks.  Some of them were going shopping on Rodeo Drive (Auston, Frederik), and some were visiting old friends since being traded (Kyle, Jack), but most were doing exactly what Aberdeen wanted to do: going to the beach.

They decided on Malibu Beach.  It was only a thirty minute drive from the hotel, so Aberdeen put on her bathing suit and packed herself in a car with John, Jason, and Justin Holl.  William, Rasmus, Kappy, and Pierre followed in another, with Tyson and Mitch tagging along in the last car too.  It may not have been super-hot to Californians, but for sun-starved Canadians, it would do.  The sun was out, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and she was going to tan the entire afternoon.  She would take advantage of it as much as possible.

As she helped set up the blankets and beach towels, she watched as Mitch and Tyson already stripped down to their bathing suits and ran into the ocean together.  Pierre was setting up some Bluetooth speakers and John was passing around the sunscreen.  The visual of these men rubbing sunscreen across their abs made Aberdeen’s heart flutter – but then the image of them having to slather sunscreen all over each other’s backs brought her back down to earth.  She chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Aberdeen, sunscreen!” John tossed the bottle towards her.  She caught it and stripped down to her tankini before squirting some onto her legs and arms, making sure to cover herself thoroughly.  She could tell William was watching but trying not to make it seem like he was.  Jason took care of her back.  

The guys did their own thing while Aberdeen read her book and tanned.  She could hear them screaming every now and then and watched as they gave each other piggyback rides and splashed water at each other like they were a peewee hockey team on a weekend tournament.  Every now and again someone would come back to the blankets and beach towels to relax, but soon enough, they were back in the ocean, being loud and obnoxious but happy, happy boys.

“Whatcha reading?” Tyson asked as he walked towards her, wet from the salt water and sand sticking to his legs.  She flashed the book at him – Milkman by Anna Burns – and he squinted his eyes to see it properly in the sunlight.  “Is it about milk?” he asked.

She shorted.  She remembered back to when she was reading Women Talking by Miriam Toews and William asked “Do women talk in it?” like a smartass.  “It’s about a woman in what’s very obviously Belfast coming of age during the Troubles.  I thought it might give me some more insight into what my mom grew up in.”

“Is it any good?  Was it as good as the one you were reading last week on the plane?  Normal Girls or whatever it was?”

Aberdeen giggled.  “Normal People, you mean?  No, it’s not as good as that.  Fuck, I loved that book.”

“I know.  You wouldn’t shut up about it!” he joked, wiping his body off.  From behind him, Aberdeen could see John making his way towards them.  William was still off in the ocean, throwing a football between him, Pierre, and Mitch.  “Think you can teach Mitch how to read?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I can certainly try.”

As if on cue, Mitch’s booming voice was heard.  “Hey T-Bear!  Get over here!” he yelled, putting everything he had into his throw of the football so it reached Tyson, who caught it expertly.

“See ya later, Aberdeen,” he said before running off, throwing the football towards Pierre who had to dive into the water to catch it.

Instead of focusing on the water cascading down Pierre’s abs or the sunlight hitting William’s broad shoulders perfectly, making him look like some Norse god, she focused her attention on John.  “You feeling good?” she asked.

“The best,” he nodded, wiping himself off before lying the towel down again and sitting on it, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.  “You’ve already gotten some colour,” he commented.

“Thank God,” she said, looking down at her arms.  “The winter has made me so pale.  It’s a bummer I didn’t get my dad’s skin tone.  My sister and brother got lucky with that.”

“You took after the Scottish side?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded.  “I get it,” he said.  “Aryne can’t tan either.  She burns too easily.”

“Wonder if the Swedes are going to look like tomatoes in a couple of hours,” she said, nodding her head towards them.  “Imagine they’re on TV and beet red?  I might get fired for not slathering sunscreen on you guys or not telling you to put on some hats.”

John laughed out loud, choosing to lean back on his elbows.  “I don’t know about that, Aberdeen.  Something tells me you’ll be around for a long time if certain people have anything to say about it – well, until you want to leave, that is.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened slightly at his words.  “Wh…what do you mean?” she asked.  

“Ah, nothing serious, Aberdeen.  Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head.  With the silence between them, Aberdeen thought he may have dropped it, but he didn’t.  He was just preparing to articulate what he wanted to say.  “It’s not just Brendan liking you, you know.  We know William has, like, the biggest crush on you, okay?  We’re all adults here,” he said to her shock.  “It’s cute, but we all know it’s harmless.”

“It is harmless,” she stressed.

“I know, Aberdeen.  Don’t worry.”

“Don’t for a second forget that you’re all Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said.  “Every job in this organization is a dream job for someone and you guys forget that some people spend their entire lives, their entire careers, building up their resumes waiting to get hired by this organization.  Nobody would ever, ever, under any circumstances, want to do anything to fuck it up, because once you’re done here, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“I knooooow, I know.  I’m just ribbing you like we rib him about it,” he smiled.  He was so jovial about it all that Aberdeen calmed down a bit.  He wasn’t trying to get to the bottom of something like he was when he and Morgan asked her about Ethan – he was just being good-humoured.  A human, not a captain of a hockey team.  Maybe her overreaction was a bit much but she needed to remain guarded and vigilant about it if ever, and whenever the guys brought it up.  “He looks at you googly-eyed all the time even though he knows nothing’s ever gonna happen.  I’m pretty sure he’d cry whenever you leave.”

Aberdeen snorted.  Cry from joy, probably, because that would mean they could actually touch each other in public.  “He told you that?  That nothing is ever gonna happen?”

John nodded his head.  “Well, nothing’s ever gonna happen as long as you work here,” he clarified.  “But don’t tell him I told you.  He kind of figures and we all know it’s a lost cause as long as you’re working here.”

Aberdeen nodded, deciding not to say anything as she looked out into the distance.  The boys were still throwing the football, and Justin was attempting a yoga pose on the beach.  She picked up her book and buried her head in it.

***

Adrian Kempe, a Swedish friend of William’s, recommended a taco restaurant in Malibu for the group to have dinner.  It wasn’t a far drive from where they were on the beach, so at around six in the evening, they shook the sand off the towels and packed them back in the cars and headed to Café Habana.  Aberdeen was in the car with John, Jason, and Justin again.  

When they arrived at the restaurant, she looked out the backseat window to see Kappy making a beeline towards someone.  The girl, Aberdeen soon noticed, was Saylor.  She figured Saylor was here for another modelling gig, though Aberdeen did find it somewhat amusing that Saylor always popped up in cities or areas with…well, shall we say distractions.  She was in New York.  Las Vegas.  Aberdeen knew she’d been to Florida.  Now she was in LA.  Saylor didn’t go Columbus or Colorado.  

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Saylor squealed as she saw Willy, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him.  “Surrrrrpriiiiise!”

“Surprise,” he smirked, but Aberdeen could tell he wasn’t as excited as she was.  “Here for some modelling?”

“Who wouldn’t want to come down to LA to model?  I just came from a shoot,” she said, now focusing her attention on Aberdeen.  “Hey girl!” she squealed again.  

“Hi Saylor,” she smiled.

“I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl here tonight,” she smirked.  “The boys can get so boring sometimes.”

“Aberdeen’s used to it by now,” Jason piped in.  “She’s only been travelling with us since September.”

The group moved towards the restaurant and were seated in the back patio at a long table.  Aberdeen was squished in between Jason and John, and directly across from her sat Willy, Pierre to his right and Saylor to his left.  Saylor and Kasperi didn’t even have to sit down to ask the waiter and waitress attending to them if they had oysters.  They didn’t.  With one quick look at the menu, and a disproportionately long discussion requiring everybody’s calculators to be out to determine how many orders of tacos were required for everybody to have three tacos each (much to Aberdeen’s entertainment), the group ordered four orders of every taco variation (and there were five of them) on the menu, along with some sides of baby broccoli, sautéed zucchini, and French fries.  As a dining group of 11, it should have been more than enough food.  She felt bad for the chefs, but knew the food would be amazing.  She saw it being brought to a table near them and it looked delectable.  

While Aberdeen maintained professionalism at all times when she was in front of the guys, when the tacos came, that professionalism waned.  She made sure to grab the four tacos she was guaranteed and wanted and piled them onto her plate.  They looked delicious.  Even as she bit into her first one, she moaned audibly at the taste, making the guys around her laugh.  Willy eyed her as she did so, taking a bite out of his own.

“So what have you been up to?” Saylor asked Aberdeen as she crunched on a French fry.  “Kappy told me it was your birthday?”

“It was!  I turned 22.”

“Ohmigod, I remember my 22nd birthday.  We went to the rooftop bar at the Bowery Hotel in New York City,” Saylor said.  Aberdeen knew it would be something ultra-luxurious because that was the only way Saylor seemed to roll.  “What did you end up doing?”

“Oh, a bunch of friends and I just got a booth and bottle service at a club.  Nothing as fancy as that,” Aberdeen answered.  

“How many were you?”

“I’d say about twenty.”

Saylor’s eyes bulged a bit.  “When you get older, your friend group gets soooo small,” she said, her tone making it seem like she was the all-knowledgeable big sister bestowing wise knowledge upon Aberdeen.  Saylor was only a year older than her.  If it was Jen, Aryne, or Bee giving this advice, fine – but not Saylor.  “My friend group is so small now.  All the drama that goes on between people is just so tiring, you know?  Less people, less drama.”

Aberdeen didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded her head.  “I can get that.  These are all people I’ve known since high school and throughout university, though.  We’ve already been friends for a long time.”

“And you’re still friends with them?” Saylor asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  Before she could say anything else, John piped up.  “I think that’s a testament to your character more so than anything, Aberdeen.”

“But it could also speak to, like, the way people are,” Saylor went on.  Aberdeen indulged her, looking at her so she would continue.  “Like, when I was in high school – my family is from Lake Forest, and I went to Lake Forest Academy – I found out this one friend was talking behind my back and I totally ditched her.  But then we ended up at the same college, and it was really weird for a while, but then we ended up becoming friends!”

Aberdeen didn’t know what point she was trying to make.  Neither did anybody else listening, judging by the looks on their faces.  “That’s good you were able to turn the relationship around,” she commented, not knowing what else to say.

Saylor looked very proud of herself.  “Besides that, what else have you been up to?  Are you still just, like, Brendan’s assistant?”

Aberdeen bit her tongue to smile curtly.  “Just.”

“And a great one at that,” Jason said before stuffing his mouth with a taco.

“I guess that’s enough for you,” Saylor commented.

Aberdeen almost dropped her taco.  So did Jason.  Willy was looking in between them.  She didn’t know how to respond at this point and not sound rude when Saylor’s rudeness was so blatantly obvious.  Aberdeen still wasn’t sure whether or not Saylor actually had the capacity to be underhanded.  She was starting to err on the side of Saylor knowing exactly what she was saying to people but saying it in such a way and with such a tone that everyone thought she was just dumb and didn’t know better.  Aberdeen began to believe Saylor did know better, and her act wasn’t fooling Aberdeen anymore.  It made her reconsider what Saylor said to her in New York about her nose.  “It’s actually not enough for me, but it’s what’s paying the bills right now and I’m not going to discuss career aspirations at the dinner table in front of people who are technically my colleagues and who don’t want to see me leave anytime soon.”

“But you can’t be in a job you hate just because it pays the bills!” she said like some dreamer.  “You need to go out there and be creative!  Cultivate!  Be artistic!  Design!  Sometimes the best opportunities come when you just drop everything, quit your job, and start hustling as you do what you love!”

Aberdeen felt her blood begin to boil.  She tried to remain calm.  “One – I never said I hated my job.  I love this job and I love the people I work with,” she clarified.  “Two – that’s a bit easy to say for someone with family money who grew up in Lake Forest and went to a private school.  I have rent to pay.  Bills – groceries, my cell phone, internet, stuff for my cat – I can’t just up and quit my job with a steady income to hustle and be creative when I have a shit ton of responsibilities.”

“I’m sure your parents would help you if it’s your dream and it’s something you really wanted to do.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Aberdeen deadpanned.  “My parents have their own shit to deal with.  My mom would kick my ass if I was that stupid.  I mean, my parents are immigrants, so that goes without saying.  They don’t owe me a dollar, and I would never ask them for it.  I would never do that to them.”

“What about your grandparents?”

Aberdeen could feel John, Jason, Pierre, and Willy deflate at the question.  It was almost comical.  “I think you’re missing the point, Saylor,” Jason said nicely.  “Aberdeen is already hustling to get to an end-goal of writing.  This job is actually helping her get to that goal.”

“Writing?” Saylor questioned.  “I thought for sure you wanted to, like, work in sports or broadcasting or something.  Writing, then?  That makes sense, I guess.  Better for you to stick behind the cameras.”

Aberdeen wondered if everybody else could hear what Saylor was saying too.  She felt like she was in the twilight zone or something.  It confirmed to her that Saylor knew exactly what she was saying.  “Yeah, I guess.  Kind of how it’s better for you to be in front of the cameras because you thrive on attention.”

“Yes!  Modelling is all about getting attention and hype around your brand,” she smiled sincerely, so happy that the topic was back on her and her modelling.  She didn’t get the subtle dig at her…extracurricular activities that took up more of people’s attention than any work or collaborations or modelling she’d done.  “I’m working so hard to build mine now, which is why I’m in LA having meetings and doing more collabs.”

“Is modelling enough for you?” Jason asked.

Aberdeen almost spit out her water, but Willy beat her to it.  She saw Saylor’s face light up even more.  “Oh my God, yes.  I looove modelling.  I’m soooo into the creative aspect of it and building my brand.”

“That’s great, Saylor,” Aberdeen smiled.  “I’m really glad that it’s working out for you considering how much you love it.”

“Thanks, girl,” she winked.  “It’s hard because the industry is so saturated these days.  I mean we were talking about this in New York.  Every girl with an iPhone, some makeup, and good angles thinks she’s a model.  It really takes someone creative like me to stand out.  Someone with a unique look and a unique brand,” she went on.  “Like your nose, you know?  It’s big.  Huge.  We talked about that.  You could get a nose job, or you could work with it.  Most would get a nose job.”  

Jason was ready for Aberdeen to snap.  So was John.  So was Pierre.  But William knew better.  When he saw Aberdeen smile, close-mouthed, just a hint of a coy grin playing on her face, he knew better.  “I have a Virginia Woolf nose,” Aberdeen said.  “It reminds me of how much I want to become a writer and not a model.”

***

“I feel like I just watched a WWE match on pay-per-view,” Aberdeen overheard Justin say to Jason in a low voice as they trailed behind her in the parking lot (he sat beside Jason during the meal and had heard everything, but even if he hadn’t sat beside him, Aberdeen had a feeling he still would have heard).  After the tacos were eaten, everybody decided to call it a night and go back to the hotel – well, mostly everyone.  Saylor wanted to go out for drinks somewhere else in Malibu.  Everybody else politely declined.

“Yeah, except it was pretty one-sided,” Jason said in an equally low voice.  “It’s like Aberdeen was Stone Cold Steve Austin and Saylor was the poor jobber her stunnered every Monday night.”

“You picked up on the nose comment too, right?  I mean she was basically telling Aberdeen to get a nose job?” Justin asked.

“Yup,” Jason popped the P sound.  

“I thought I was going crazy when I heard it.”

“Yeah, me too.  But from what I’ve heard from Jen I didn’t expect more from her.”

“It’s good that Aberdeen is mature.  I think if it were me at 22, I would have lunged across the table,” Justin commented.

***

“Who’s Virginia Woolf?”

Aberdeen was lying naked in her hotel bed, tits out, with William lying by her side after he’d fucked her, and that was the question he asked.  Aberdeen smiled.  She loved William and she knew him – she really did, at least she liked to think – but sometimes she didn’t understand how his brain worked.  She knew she liked to call him “Head Empty”, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure.  He clearly had thoughts.  He just brought them up at weird times.  “She was a writer in the early 1900s,” she answered, laughing slightly.

“And you want to be like her?”

She shook her head.  “I’d like my writing to be like her writing.”

“Why don’t you want to be like her?”

“She filled her pockets with rocks and committed suicide by drowning herself in the river behind her home,” she said, looking over at him.  His face was blank, processing the information, and she smiled wider.  “Maybe if my writing was like hers, I’d actually get published in Toronto Life or something.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Her smile faded.  She hadn’t told him yet.  She’d wanted to keep it to herself for as long as possible because she didn’t want to burden him with the news.  “I did try.  I sent in one of my personal essays and they rejected it.  They sent me the email on my birthday.”

William remained silent.  He saw the look on Aberdeen’s face and knew that she felt embarrassed and disappointed – in herself, in her writing.  He wrapped an arm around her and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her.  “Minskatt…”

“Don’t, Willy.  You’re going to make me cry.”

“No,” he shook his head, not accepting what she was saying.  “After the Carolina game you told me I needed to talk more and that you’d listen.  Well, you need to talk now and I’ll listen,” he said.  “Talk to me, minskatt.  I’m listening.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of her writing getting rejected anymore.  It was because of the man hovering over her.  His head may by empty, but Aberdeen was sure his heart was full of gold.  She didn’t know how she got so lucky.  She didn’t know how he was hers.  “I just don’t know how much more rejection I can take,” she whispered.  “I try and I try and I write and I write and I read so I can write better and nothing is working.  Nothing,” her voice was shaky.  “I just want an editor to read my writing and say ‘This is what I’ve been looking for all along.’  But that hasn’t happened yet.  And I’m scared it’s never going to happen.”

“It’ll happen one day, minskatt.  I promise you,” William encouraged as he tightened his grip around her with his one arm.  “You’re so talented.  Your dreams are going to come true and you’re going to look back and wonder why you ever doubted yourself.”

“Do you doubt me?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” William said without hesitation.  “Not for a second.”

Aberdeen stayed silent, bringing a hand up to wipe the few tears that had fallen down the side of her face.  She rested it on William’s forearm draped across her body.  “When I get like this, all my insecurities come out.  About my future, about everything.  Maybe I was never destined to be a writer.  Maybe I was destined to be a personal assistant or a bank teller.  Maybe I was destined just to be normal girl with a big nose and nothing special.”

“How can you say you’re nothing special when you’re my treasure?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of her neck and placing a light kiss there.  She couldn’t help but smile, and he smiled at the fact he made her smile.  “That has to count for something, right minskatt?” he stressed the word.

She nodded.  “It counts for everything.”  She looked directly into his baby blues, barely blinking.  “The second I leave here I’m going to plant the biggest kiss on your lips, Willy.  You have absolutely no idea.”

That caused William to laugh out loud before he bent down and gave her a quick kiss.  “Not if I beat you to it,” he said.

“You won’t.  Trust me.  God, I can hardly wait,” she said.  “I still don’t know why you keep waiting for me.”

“Are you listening?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

“I wait for you because I love you.  Because I love everything about you.”

“Even my big nose?”

“My favourite part of you,” he kissed the tip of it.  She could have cried again.  “It’s what makes you you.  I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

When she craned her neck to kiss him, she made sure to wrap her arms around his body and pull him close, wanting to feel his body on top of hers.  He got the hint, and stuck his tongue down her throat, and they kissed until he was hard again.  Though he hadn’t expected a second round, he was more than willing to partake.  He even made sure to bring extra condoms.  He always did now – since Valentine’s Day.  He had them everywhere: in his wallet, in his suitcase, in his shoe.  “I love you minskatt,” he mumbled against her lips.

She didn’t respond at first.  But when she did, it was with something he wasn’t expecting.  “Tell me how you want me.”

He froze for a brief second, the previous conversation they were just having still fresh in his mind.  “What?”

“Do you want me from behind?  On top?” she asked in a breathy voice.

He groaned.  “On top.”  

They switched positions so he was lying on his back.  Aberdeen climbed on top of him.  “Willy?” she asked.  “Can we…can we try something different?”

He nodded quickly.  “What is it, Aberdeen?”

“Can we…” she began, almost a bit embarrassed.  “Can I try reverse cowgirl?”

William couldn’t help but smile.  “Of course,” he said, gripping at her hips.  

“D’you have another condom?”

“My back pocket.”

She dismounted him, leaning over the bed to grab his pants on the floor and retrieve the packet.  When she straddled him again, she did it so her back was to his face.  He could feel her pump him a few times before she rolled on the condom, and he sighed at the feeling.  She looked over her shoulder at him.  “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too,” he said, his hands back on her hips.  He helped her lower herself onto him, the both of the moaning at the feeling.  He loved watching himself disappear inside of her.  He noticed she wasn’t moving yet.  “You okay?” he asked.  

Aberdeen nodded her head.  “It feels so good,” she said.  “I’ve never…you know…”

“It’s okay,” he said, understanding what she wasn’t saying.  He couldn’t believe that her previous sexual partners were so selfish that they never let her explore what she liked or what she could possibly like or positions she could do.  He shuddered at the thought of her potentially asking and being turned down.  It made him angry just thinking about it.  He didn’t want her to be that way with him.  He wanted her to be completely open.  “Do what you feel comfortable with, minskatt.”

She began rolling her hips back and forth.  William groaned in response, and he could feel Aberdeen’s hands grip his thighs and her nails dig in slightly.  As she rocked herself on his cock, she began to moan, gasping out anytime William would buck his hips slightly.  He had to admit he liked the view, but what he liked even more was that she was enjoying herself on top of him, doing what she wanted.  

“Willy?” she asked suddenly.  She looked over her shoulder at him again.  She looked so innocent and he knew that she meant to do it, and he almost exploded right then and there as she bat her eyelashes at him.  “Can you…can you come up here?”

He did as he was told, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around her body.  He kissed her back and dragged his lips along her skin to her shoulder and neck.  “What is it, minskatt?” he asked.

“What if I wanted to try more?”

If it was possible, William felt even hotter.  The sound of her voice saying those words was…indescribable.  “What do you mean?”

“You just make me feel so good.  I’ve never had anybody make me feel this way.  I feel so comfortable with you,” she said.  “You…I feel safe to try things with you.  Things I couldn’t try with other guys.”

He knew what she was getting at.  He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder.  “What do you want to try?” he asked.  She remained silent, wondering if she should have even said anything.  “Don’t be ashamed, minskatt.  What do you want me to do?”

She hesitated.  “D’you…can you pinch my nipples?”

He smiled because it was such a simple request.  He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and index fingers.  He felt her sharp intake of breath and her head leaned back into his shoulder.  He could tell by her reaction that she wanted more.  “What else?” he asked, biting down on her skin near her shoulder.  “What are you not telling me?”

“That,” she stressed.  He didn’t know what she meant.  “The bite.  You—You can fuck me, Willy.  I want you to fuck me.  You can be rougher with me.  I think I’ll like it.”

When William heard those words and how she emphasized them, he wanted to make sure.  Needed to make sure.  The first time they had sex it was a good old-fashioned hookup.  The second time they had sex they’d made love.  In subsequent times since, it was mostly making love, if only because they had waited so long to finally be together and that was what they wanted to “release” – love.  But now, with those words being said, he knew Aberdeen was ready to take the next step.  She was willing to go further.  She trusted him to go further with her, and only wanted to do it with him.  “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “I trust you.  Fuck me, Willy.”

He pinched her nipples again, harder this time, and she gasped.  He started to move his hips too, moving inside of her, and she began to moan again.  Without warning, he fell back down on the bed, bringing her with him so her back was flush against his chest, though her knees were still bent and he was still in her.  This was definitely a new position for her, judging by her reaction – a quick “oh fuck” escaping her lips.  He heard her breathing get heavier as she felt one of his hands snake down from her breasts and on to her clit.  “Willy…” she moaned out.  

He started pounding into her, using his athletic physique to be able to so with such force in a new angle she’d never felt before.  Her moans fuelled him, and the moans changed to slight whimpers when he started rubbing at her clit.  “Fuck, Willy…” she managed to get out.

But he wasn’t done.  At least he didn’t want to be done.  His other hand, still pinching her nipple, moved up to her neck.  “Willy,” she mewled, bringing her own hand up and placing it over his.

“Is that okay?” he whispered into her ear.  He wasn’t applying any pressure – it was just sort of there – but that was apparently enough for her.  He wouldn’t have felt comfortable going further, anyway, at least without her verbalizing something.

“Yes Willy, fuck,” she arched her back.  “Fuck me.  Fuck me harder.”

He increased his pace.  Her cries let him know that even with those simple actions, she was feeling pleasure.  She was liking it.  She was getting what she wanted from him.  That was the only thing he wanted.  “I want you to cum all over my cock, Aberdeen,” he growled into her ear.  She didn’t answer, but when she arched her back again, he felt her walls tighten around his cock and he knew she was done.  He let himself find his release too, groaning in pleasure as her body writhed on top of his.  He didn’t stop rubbing her clit until her hand went over his to stop him.  Her body went still as he slipped out of her and she fell to his side, trying to regain her breath.  

After a couple of minutes, she curled around to face him.  “I know that was probably really tame but it was new for me.”

William shook his head.  He didn’t want her to feel nervous about anything.  “Baby steps,” he kissed her.  

“No guy has ever, like…asked what I like in the bedroom,” she admitted.  “So I couldn’t explore things.  Well I didn’t feel comfortable exploring things.  But I know I can with you.”

William nodded his head.  “Don’t worry, minskatt.  We can start slow.  No need to rush.  You can tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go.”

“You too.”

“Hmm?”

“You tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go, and I’ll go there with you too.”

He nodded his head, smiling.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.  More than anything.”

[pi-cat000]

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (2)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

Part 1 here

..

..

At one point, the ground level of Ed’s building had probably been a nice-looking shopfront, maybe a flower shop or grocers or something more befitting this weird world…like a tech repair store.  Now, the ground level doubles as apartment space, large windows caked with dust and grime, curtains permanently drawn to hide its occupancy. Heck, if Ed hadn’t been around to fix the glass with alchemy the ground floor would have been pretty much unliveable. Like many buildings in the area, it was a victim of a villain/hero confrontation which always seemed to generate an obscene amount of property damage. Great for leveraging his repair skills in exchange for free accommodation and about nothing else. Not that the people here saw it as much of a problem.

Ed scowls, flipping his OPEN sign to CLOSED, yanking the door shut, locking up as he goes.

Ed doesn’t quite understand the whole thing, and he had had one of the worst track records for property damage when it came to state alchemists. The difference being that he had always returned to reverse as much of the alchemical damage as he could and if he couldn’t Mustang had some other military alchemist/personal waiting in the wings to see to the problem. Rebuilding here was the responsibility of some external agency or other. Ed is a little hazy on how the system was supposed to work, seeing as the military had little to no involvement with anything hero related. Though, considering how the Amestrian military had been in the process of feeding the souls of its citizens to a loosely defined truth God, maybe that was a good thing. Honestly, researching how this place ran its bureaucracy was low on his priority list.

“Hey! Ed! You’re out early? Off somewhere interesting?”  

“Did you see the guy who just came through here,” he asks, eyeing his fellow apartment-liver who seemed to have nothing better to do than loiter outside and yell at people on the street. The greasy-haired man is puffing smoke near the corner of the building with his two equally scruffy friends. They all have a physical abnormally, a lizard tail, claws, bulging eyes, that remind him uncomfortably of chimeras despite knowing it was a result of more quirk bullshit.

The guy blows smoke in his direction, “Big, tall dude? Pretty suspicious looking with the hood and all. I saw him go in. Didn’t see him leave …funny that.”

“Yeah…funny…” Ed mutters, “Did you recognise him?”

“I might have.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes and continues down the road. He would leave bribing his neighbours for possible information as a last resort.

He passes the vacant lot holding a near identical half-collapsed block, followed by another nicer looking building, then another, before they gave way to shops and smaller structures. That was something he was still getting used to…the sheer scale of the city. Even Central had barely been a quarter of this city’s size. Luckily, his destination isn’t too far so he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost.  

The building he arrives at is taller than the rest and full of office space. The main lift is out of order so Ed trudges up three flights of stairs to the top floor, stomping into the empty reception/waiting area only hesitating for a second before slamming his hand onto the bell sitting atop the front desk.

There is a muffled voice, “I’m coming. I’m coming. No need for that racket!”

The door behind the desk swings open.

“Edward?”

“Hey, old man,” he gives a small wave, “It’s been a few weeks.”

The man, tall, well-built, cropped brown hair, stares at Ed.

“Yeah it’s been a few weeks! You need to check your phone and answer your messages every now and then. You’re giving me grey hairs. More grey hairs!”

“Right…my phone….” He forgot he had it when not using it to help with navigation. Also, messaging was a pain. He had picked up the local spoken language fast enough out of necessity, but his reading and writing were still a work in progress. Lucky for him, this reality had a few languages similar enough to Amestrian that if he really wanted to read something he could get a translation. It still made written communication tricky.

“I'll try and check it more often," he placates, "I’m here for some information about a job I was offered and seeing you know a bunch of the local businesses I thought I would drop by.”

“Information?” Masao Uraraka lets out a long breath, “And there I went thinking that you were going to take me up on my apprenticeship offer.”

Ed shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging. The older man grunts, “Well come on through. You’re lucky you caught me in the office. I’m usually on-site supervising about this time. But, can’t do much of that until those idiots at HC Construction.co get the go-ahead from their insurance company.”

Ed slips past and into a dimly lit office space which is surprisingly well organised. Across the wall is a collage of family photos, depicting a woman and young girl at various stages of growth.

“…that’s not your problem though. How have you been kid? Hope you haven’t been in too many fights.”

“Hey,” he objects, “Some idiots need a good punch,” and then adds a little less aggressively, “But no. No fights. I’ve been researching quirks....”

“Quirks. That’s different? Weren't you studying chemistry or something?”

Ed shrugs again, unwilling to divulge much else. Uraraka tended to be nosey out of some misguided notion that he could help Ed ‘get back on his feet’ after whatever tragic backstory he had cooked up for him.

“You’re still living at Old Man Watanabe’s right? He not pulling anything is he? Old coot always tries to weasel more out of his deals.”  

Ed can’t help but agree,  “He’s been trying to get me to re-wire the whole building. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

Of course, this just sets Uraraka off on a round of angry muttering, “Is that right? I can have a talk with him. I’ve told him that he needs an electrician and a proper plumber. He owes me a few favours so I can… ”

“It’s fine,” Ed quickly interrupts. Uraraka had his own problems and family to look after. The guy reminded him of Hughes in that he cared way too much. “One grumpy landlord isn’t worth worrying about.”

Uraraka visibly deflates, “Yes, well, most kids your age shouldn’t be worried about that sort of stuff at all. You should be finishing up your schooling, getting your Japanese up to scratch and studying for college entrance exams. You remind me of my daughter. Stubborn.” He pulls a framed photo from his desk, pointing it at Ed, shaking it for emphasis, “She wants to be a Hero you know. A HERO! Can you believe it! My cute little girl, getting into fights with villains.”

Ed clears his throat awkwardly. Yeah, this guy was definitely this world’s weird version of Hughes. If Hughes had worked in construction and had, you know, not died. This isn’t the first time he has had a picture of Ochako, Uraraka’s daughter, shoved in his face.

“About that information?” He cautiously interrupts and gets another sigh.

“Yes, yes. You kids are always so impatient. What’s this job then? What idiot is going around hiring 16-year-olds.”

“Actually, the guy that came in just mentioned some construction work,” Ed rubs his neck, now slightly subconscious, realising he doesn’t have a whole lot to go on, “he didn’t give me a lot of details, just left this.” Ed pulls out the envelope placing it on the desk next to the assortment of framed photographs and scribbly kid drawings.

With a raised brow, Uraraka pulls it towards him, peering in. The man’s eyes widen and he closes the envelope, frowning, “This supposed to be a down payment in advance of a job, or is it for material costs? Because it’s a bit much for a down payment and nowhere near enough for materials. Not if it’s for anything serious. What sort of work is it? You know I can’t lend you equipment without a licence…but I’ll help you source anything that you…”

“No,” Ed rushes to interrupt, “the guy said it was a sign of goodwill. I take it that’s not a normal thing people do in the, ah, construction business?”

“No. It definitely is not,” Uraraka now looks concerned, “there would usually be a contract for services before any sort of payment. Especially, if you’re going to be working as an independent contractor.”

So that just confirmed what he already knew. Ed continues, “So you haven’t heard about people asking around for under the table construction work then?”

“No. I can ask a few of my freelancers if they’ve had similar offers but I deal above the board with licenced workers only, so it’s unlikely they’ll have heard anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glares at the envelope.

“What did he look like? This man that came in?”

“Oh, he was tall, made of dark purple smoke and had a teleportation quirk…I think. He also asked about my quirk and its limits.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”  Uraraka promises and frowns at Ed, “I hope you’re not considering this offer.”

Ed grunts noncommittally and gets a look of disapproval that reminds him so much of Hughes its almost painful. He tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of answers because coming to Uraraka had always been a long shot. ‘You’re sad, lonely and the only conversations you’ve had this last week were yelling matches with your landlord and neighbours. Uraraka is a nice man. Of course, you would come to him for advice.’ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Al chimes in. ‘I don’t want him to worry. I’m not staying here long. What’s he going to think when I suddenly disappear,’ he snaps back and immediately feels foolish.

Maybe the isolation is getting to him a bit.

“If it's money you need that I’m more than happy to help you get licenced and certified…” Uraraka continues to talk oblivious to the fact that Ed is barely paying attention.

He doesn’t want to settle down and get a popper job or finish off his schooling or talk to youth services or whatever other things Uraraka had brought up in the few months they had known each other. That would be admitting defeat. Also, he had no ID or history and he was pretty sure you needed both to work any legitimate jobs.

“I can handle myself,” he says out loud.

“Yes, you’re worryingly self-sufficient but there is a difference between unlicensed quirk use and aiding and abetting criminals. No self-respecting, above board, organisation hires a kid to do construction work and throws a bunch of money at them.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he knows Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious was probably a criminal of this reality. He knows he is probably getting himself into something dicey and illegal but he needs to follow whatever lead he can to get back home. Finding a quirk with either the ability to transport him between realities or one with the power equivalent to a few thousand souls was his last hope of ever hearing Al's, the real Al’s, voice again.

The older man rubs his forehead, visibly exasperated, “But you’re going to ignore me. Stubborn brat.”

[that-soft-earth]

JonMartin Post-Canon Fic pt 1 (The Magnus Archives)

SPOILERS for MAG200/end of series Contents: JonMartin, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, so much hurt/comfort, brain injury, hospital scene, kissing, disabled Jon

This is a very messy WIP and I’m not going to take the time to do proper research so don’t assume any of the real-world details are accurate. Depictions of disability based on my experience & those of close friends. A later part of this fic can be found here.

Martin sat by Jon’s bedside, mesmerised by the rise and fall of his chest. Now a hospital gown covered that horrible wound that Martin had seen after going through the gateway, somehow miraculously stretched across by angry pink scar tissue, fibrous and almost web-like… though that didn’t bear thinking about. Martin reached to take Jon’s hand, but stopped, shivering at the memory of another time he had sat by Jon’s bedside. But it wasn’t like that now. Jon was breathing, his heart beating normally, the doctors said. When Martin took his hand and squeezed, he sometimes squeezed back. Sometimes pulled it away, which Martin tried not to take personally. Sometimes murmured things that didn’t sound like parts of statements, didn’t sound like anything much at all. “Martin?” Jon croaked. “I’m here,” Martin said, springing to his feet. Jon was staring straight ahead with a panicked expression. “Where – I can’t -” “Right here, I’m right here,” said Martin, reaching for Jon’s hand. Jon flinched and raised his hand weakly as if to defend himself. “It’s me, Jon, you... recognise me, right?” Martin said, his voice cracking. “Yes, your voice, it’s just, everything looks…. Everything looks…. It’s not…” An edge of panic was creeping into Jon’s voice. “Try closing your eyes, maybe,” said Martin. “Oh, that’s better, it’s almost… Almost…” Jon lapsed back into unconsciousness. “Jon? Oh… alright, that’s, that’s progress, I suppose,” Martin said with a shaky laugh. But would there be more progress, he wondered? Judging by when they left Salesa’s, Jon could barely function without the Eye. Martin thought about a life of nursing a half-conscious Jon, and dread settled in his stomach, immediately chased by guilt. He had gotten what he wanted – Jon, alive, with him, and out of danger. And if he had to devote the rest of his life to caring for as much of him as had made it through, that was what he would do – the fierce, burning devotion within him never wavering. Was he selfish to want more? Would Jon have wanted this? To live trapped on the edge of consciousness? A lump formed in Martin’s throat at the thought of losing Jon again. A soft knock at the door interrupted his racing thoughts.

------ “I must say the scans are not exactly like anything I’ve seen before, and it’s hard to say without knowing more about what happened, but the symptoms are consistent with an acquired brain injury. That’s an injury that happens to the brain without an obvious knock on the head, maybe from oxygen deprivation, internal damage, several things. An explosion, you said?” the doctor looked at Martin quizzically. “Well… yes. It’s… yes.” “And you’re still not going to tell me anything else about it? What caused the explosion, what might have caused the brain injury?” “No… sorry.” “Well, the good news is there doesn’t appear to be internal bleeding, but there do seem to be some parts that are just…. Missing,” she said, frowning. “Mostly in the visual cortex, which would explain why he couldn’t see you, even though his eyes are fine. But there’s damage across the whole brain.” “Ok. Ok,” said Martin, struggling to keep his breathing even. “So, will he get… better?” The doctor took a deep breath. “Ok, so. Brain injuries can be complicated,” she said gently. “The brain can be amazing at adapting and reconfiguring itself. I would expect to see some improvement over the short term, and have him awake and up and about. But it’s impossible to say in the long term what the effects will be. The most likely outcome is that there will be some permanent effects, and some that will lessen with time and therapy.” “Alright,” said Martin, letting out a long, shaky breath, “I can do this. We can do this.” ----- Having discovered that his bank card wasn’t working, their names didn’t show up in any medical databases, and his phone hadn’t had reception since they arrived, Martin surmised that this London, though familiar, was probably not their London. They had taken cash with them to the safe house, and Martin had divided it into their wallets before leaving, just in case. He hadn’t thought of it once during their journey, but thankfully they had both still had their wallets on them out of habit when they went through the gateway, more due to forgetting they were there than actually choosing to bring them. There was enough to secure a motel room and food for a couple of weeks. As they left the hospital for the motel Martin still asked the taxi driver to try Georgie’s address in the satellite navigator. “I don’t use that thing,” the driver said gruffly. “Humour me? Please.” “Alright,” he said. Address not found. Stomach sinking, Martin relayed his own address, where he had lived for years. Address not found.  “There’s not even a Queen Street in that borough,” said the taxi driver. “Are you sure? Comes off Northern Road, after Smith Street, before Church Street,” he said. “Northern Road, yes. No Church Street, no Queen Street. Trust me, mate. I’ve been driving London since before you could read,” the driver said irritably. “Oh, er, sorry, I must have gotten mixed up. Haven’t been to London in a while…” he said with a nervous laugh. “And, er... The Magnus Institute?” he said, barely able to squeak out the words. Jon, leaning against him, stiffened but stayed silent. “Never heard of it,” the driver snapped. “Probably in Edinburgh or something. Now where can I take you? In London.” “Oh! Right. Sorry. At the hospital they recommended a motel...” ----- The next week in the motel room Martin remembered little of, just a haze of worries and plans about what he was going to do, how they were going to live without records or friends or family, punctuated by hopeful periods of Jon’s lucidity. He sometimes spoke clearly, and seemed to know where they were. Other times he woke disoriented, trying to see – or trying to See, maybe, it was hard to tell. Each day he slept a little less, and spent more time simply sitting upright, staring straight ahead with unfocused eyes, responding hazily to Martin’s questions. Martin had to coax and gently bully him into eating, showering, getting changed. He had bought a prepaid phone on one of his shopping trips, quickly stealing away while he thought Jon would stay asleep. In between trying to get food into Jon, and then himself, he looked for a job, realising they would need a place to live, furniture, and trying not to panic about it all, trying not to let himself spiral into thoughts about what they had escaped. Who they had left behind. “Martin? Where are you? What - where am I?” Jon’s voice barked from the bed. “I’m right here, Jon. Close your eyes, listen to my voice, I’m right here,” Martin snapped grumpily, by now used to the routine. “Martin… I’m sorry…” Jon’s voice was uncharacteristically small, hurt and confused. “Oh, no, Jon, no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” he strode to the bed and took Jon in his arms, freezing guilt flooding through him. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry,” he said miserably. “No, no, it’s fine,” Jon murmured, his eyes still shut tight but now fully aware. Jon slid his hands up Martin’s upper arms, around his back, feeling the tension in his body. “What’s wrong, Martin?” he asked. “Nothing, really, it’s just… ever since you, since we got here, it’s been… a lot. It’s been so much,” said Martin, his voice wavering. “And it shouldn’t be, without the, the monsters, and the hell domains and saving the world and everything, it should be easy, just normal life, but somehow it’s just… too much for me,” said Martin, tears welling up in his eyes.  He swiped at them angrily. “I know you can’t understand all this right now. I shouldn’t be bothering you with it.” “Oh, hey, no,” said Jon, pulling Martin towards him, “I understand what it’s like with, ah, a lot in your… in your…” he reached up and touched the back of Martin’s head, tenderly. “In here.” That gentle touch was enough to pull the held-back sobs out of Martin. He hid his face in Jon’s shoulder and gave in to the sobs wracking his body, as Jon rubbed his hand slowly down Martin’s back, soothing him quietly, patiently. “I’m here, Martin. I’m here.” The wave of despair subsided at last, settling into a more manageable trepidation. Martin drew back, sniffling. Jon leaned forward, and planted a kiss beside Martin’s mouth. Martin realised with a pang of longing that they hadn’t kissed, properly kissed, since… well… He didn’t want to think about that. He longed to press his lips to Jon’s, kiss him hungrily, forcefully, but he could feel the weakness in Jon’s body, the effort it took to even sit upright. “You lie down. Get some rest,” said Martin, his lips aching. “You too. Rest,” said Jon, trying to sound firm. ----- The second week, in some ways, was even harder, though full of small miracles. Their money was not going to stretch to a third week, Martin knew. Somehow he stumbled into the job in the community centre, for which he was not especially qualified, and who didn’t miss a beat when he claimed to be “between leases”, and even gave him leads on finding a flat nearby. It did mean he had to leave Jon alone during the day, and although he was now alert most of the time, Martin worried what would happen if Jon woke up alone. “I suppose I could, er, leave a note for you?” Martin wondered aloud. “I don’t know if I could… you know… see it well enough to…” Jon trailed off. “Oh, right, of course, silly me,” fretted Martin. “I’ll be fine, Martin. Go out and be the breadwinner,” Jon said with a sardonic smile. Jon was still asleep when Martin was ready to leave the next morning. He thought about waking him, but decided against it. He grabbed one of his jumpers from the pile of unwashed laundry accumulating beside the bed, balled it up and pushed it into Jon’s arms. Jon pulled it towards himself without waking. -------- On their last night in the motel, Martin bustled around, tidying and checking every crevice, although they had few belongings to worry about. The flat they were moving into was a sad and dingy little thing, but Martin’s heart was buoyed by thought of it. “Martin – when you have a moment, could you come here?” Jon said from the bed. “Yes, love?” Martin sat down beside him. Jon, eyes open but unfocused, reached out gingerly to Martin’s face, finding his cheek and cupping it. Jon slid his thumb to the corner of Martin’s mouth, and purposefully closed the distance between them, kissing Martin’s lips unreservedly. A tingling warmth swept through Martin’s body, and he let out a long “Hmmm” of relief as he settled into the kiss, feeling for a moment completely at Jon’s mercy and desiring nothing else. When they parted, Jon’s hand was still on Martin’s cheek. “I didn’t want to miss your mouth this time,” Jon said breathlessly.

[alleycat97]

Slippery Slopes Pt.2

Part two y’all! Sorry it’s late, I’ve been busy. Should be one more part to finish this up!

Tag list: @samanthadalton @fundamentalromantic @avalawrencefl @penda-bear @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @kamilahsayeet2063

It had been an interesting 24 hours since the accident on the slopes yesterday. No word had been passed on about Emma and that left her suitors restless. Mason couldn’t cope with the fact that his father or ex best friend had committed such a cruel act that hurt Emma.

Noah couldn’t believe he was even in this situation. He should have never trusted Jennings but he let his guard down for the sake of the trip and Emma, and this is what he got. He was looking at charges for trespassing and endangerment while Principal Jennings seemed to be clearing his name.

Mack couldn’t stop pacing, Dr. Price was doing an awful job of updating his own daughter on her sisters progress. Ava wasn’t fairing much better. She had organized their room over and over trying to make sure it’s perfect for when Emma came back to the lodge.

It was just a sit tight and stand ready type of situation. None of them had a personal car available, so trapped at the lodge they were.

Ava stopped her cleaning when she heard a cellphone go off, to no surprise it was hers and the caller was Bayla. She grumbled and put the phone back down, she had called 4 times already today. Ava couldn’t bring herself to talk to her girlfriend knowing Emma was hurt in the hospital. She would sound weak, vulnerable, all red flags Bayla didn’t need right now.

Another call rang out across the house, this time it was Mack’s phone, and judging by her facial reactions, it was with her father. Mack nodded enthusiastically and ended the call, yelling out to find Mason.

“Emma is ready to come back here, dad said she will be ok, we need to go and pick her up. Spare keys are in his room, I’ll grab them and we can go.”

“What all was wrong?” Ava rushed out of the room and into the foyer.

“He didn’t say. I guess we will know when we all get back.” Mack said noticing the gloom placed on Ava’s features. “She’s gonna be alright.”

Ava went and tidied up the room once more and without knowing what Emma would require, she just cluttered the entire nightstand with odd and ends eliminating the guessing.

The front door slamming was her queue to come running, she leaned over the balcony railing only to see Jennings and Noah.

“I don’t know how you got those signs in my bag old man, but this isn’t over.” Noah hissed shoving his way past Principal Jennings.

“Maybe you should think twice before doing illegal activities. You’re never going to learn trailer trash.” Jennings barked stopping Noah dead in his tracks.

Jennings was an asshole. This dude seemed to get off on making teenagers lives miserable. The tension was unbearable.

“I know you knew about the course being closed. I just can’t figure out why you’d try to hurt Emma. You’re a sick bastard and if I go down, you’re coming with me.” Noah said inching up into Jennings face.

The scene was split up when Mack came through the door. Mason in tow pushing an unconscious Emma in a wheelchair. She had a cast on her leg and looked so cold. Dave brought up the rear looking like hell. Looks like sleep wasn't an option for him either.

“Ah yes there she is. How did everything go?” Jennings asked unfazed of what transpired.

Mason ignored him and tried to walk past to the staircase with Emma sleeping.

“I said how did everything go?” Jennings said jerking Mason back almost causing him to fall. Noah shoved Jennings aside helping to stabilize Mason so Emma wouldn’t fall out of the chair.

“Ask Mr. Price dad! Let go of me, Emma needs to be in bed!” Mason snapped shoving his fathers hands away from him.

Jennings jumped at the outburst and gritted his teeth, turning to Dave. “Let’s talk in the kitchen, I’ll have the Chef whip up some coffee.”

With the adults gone and the room de-stressed, Noah assisted Mason in carrying Emma up to her room, Ava steering clear of them until Emma was placed in bed.

“Ok boys thank you. I can handle her from here.” Ava shot out shoving them aside to check on Emma.

The boys looked to each other confused but didn’t say anything about the outburst. Mason needed his own rest and Noah had a busy day ahead of him with Jennings and the ski patrol assholes.

“Just let us know when she wakes alright? Mr. Price has her medicine.” Mason said closing the door leaving Ava alone with a sleeping Emma.

Ava had no clue why she wanted the privacy with Emma. She was a taken woman and Emma was her bestie. Nothing else, she tried to convince herself.

But the longer she sat and stared at Emma, the more her heart pounded, the more she wanted to wake her and kiss her all better. The thoughts of such activities made her dizzy and she had to get away. But it was Emma, she had this way of keeping her grounded and for the life of her, Ava couldn’t drag herself away.

So she continued to sit in silence, begging for Emma to wake up, because quite frankly? She didn’t look too well.

Ava easily got up and slipped out of the room and looked for Mr. Price. She heard some quiet commotion from the kitchen, what a shock.

“Now you listen here Jim, I don’t know how it happened, all I know is my little girl just underwent a major leg surgery after she took place in your little race.”

“Now I know how it looks Dave, I’m quite sorry that it happened, but Mr. Harris is the culprit here. I should have known not to place trust in him. What a terrible thing, taking down those signs.”

Noah heard his name and flew into the kitchen,

“I told you Jennings! I didn’t take down any signs!”

“Quiet scum! Adults are talking here! Don’t you have a meeting with the ski patrol?” Jim teased.

“I don’t know how you twisted this on me, but I’ll get you back.” Noah inched closer so only Jennings could here, “Maybe I should call off our deal?”

Whatever was said, Jennings went pale and cleared his throat. Removing himself from the conversation.

“Mr. Price?” Ava said entering the room. “Emma is still asleep. And she’s so pale, she looks sick.”

“I feared that. It’s her medication, she should be awake anytime now for another dose. Here, please give her one of these when she awakes. I’m going to get some rest.” Mr. Price said handing over the medicine.

Ava returned to the room with the meds and hot tea to find Emma slowly awaking.

“Hello sleepy head.” Ava rushed over with a smile.

“Where am I?” Emma groggily spoke out.

“Back in the bedroom with good ol me.”

Emma rubbed at her eyes trying to get them to open, “Are you an angel?”

Ava snorted, “Oh now you wanna shoot your shot huh.”

“Worth a try.” Emma laughed. “I feel terrible.”

“You look it.” Ava agreed dodging the pillow Emma tossed.

“Here Mahomes, here’s your pill and I made your favorite tea.” Ava giggled as she sat down next to Emma to help her take the meds and give her a sip of tea.

“Psh, Mahomes wishes he had this cannon for an arm.” Emma tried laughing but she done exhausted herself.

“Relax, you just underwent surgery. I’m actually impressed they released you so quickly.”

“Perks of having a doctor for a dad. I’m not about that hospital food.”

The two sat in silence for a moment while Emma sipped her tea. It was so nice just the two of them, Ava had Emma all to herself, no intruders, no boys, and no Bayla. Crap....Bayla was still her girlfriend.

Ava came to and realized she was stroking Emma’s delicate hair, resting her hand on Emma’s soft cheek. She quickly composed herself and stood abruptly, creating as much distance as possible.

What was this? What were they? Friends? More than friends? Ava knew what the answer should be, but the timing was terrible. Bayla was her own girlfriend, and Emma had her own issues.

A text shot through to Ava’s phone, it was Bayla. “Speak of the devil.” Ava whispered. She had been putting her off for long enough and by judging by the text she received, Bayla wasn’t happy.

“Ava?” Emma called out oblivious to Ava’s aggressive texting.

Ava turned immediately to face her, “Yeah?”

“Where are the boys?”

Ava doesn’t know why, but with her issues with Bayla and her feelings for Emma, hearing her ask for the boys really added fuel to her blazing fire.

“Idk. Mason is resting and Noah and Jennings are with the ski patrol.”

Emma could hear the aggression in Ava’s voice, but she couldn’t tell if it was at her texting or towards her about her question.

“Is everything alright Ava?”

“Yeah. It’s just Bayla. She’s bugging me because I haven’t responded in awhile.”

“Oh. I wonder what has her in a twist.” Emma asked innocently.

Ava knew why. She told Bayla before she left the arrangement, so naturally she had to keep tabs on her at all times. Trust between the two were slipping, but Ava wasn’t helping her cause and Emma wasn’t either. “Because that’s what a good girlfriend does!” Ava snapped surprising Emma. “She’s just concerned!”

“Oh. I understand, I’m sorry.” Emma apologized.

“No Emma you don’t! You don’t understand and you never will!” Ava said slamming her phone down on the counter and stomping towards the door.

Something told Emma deep within this was more than just Bayla being worried, she couldn’t help but think this was all her fault and the reason Ava was upset.

Ava had to get out and breathe, she loved Emma, but she couldn’t take her indecisiveness. She couldn’t stand competing for her hand any longer, it was time to set the record straight. She stepped back in to grab her phone before heading back out again.

“Where are you going?” Emma tried.

“I’ve got a phone call to make.”

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 18

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger!

Communication is established.

Martin has a job to do.

After months of near constant solitude and a week of above-average social interaction, Martin had to deal with an unhappy middle: Peter, with no warning or pattern, would appear at the lighthouse at whatever time seemed to suit his fancy. Bright and early one day, late lunch the next, twice already on Thursday, all for reasons Martin couldn’t wonder aloud at for fear of seeming too curious.

No alone time meant no poking his nose around. Not that he was supposed to, keeping his head down and all that, but sitting around wasn’t doing his nerves any favors.

It was easy to imagine Peter hiring someone to tail him home, so Martin never dared to take a new path or turn for that whole week. When he got home he stayed home. When he got to work he stayed at work. And when he walked in either direction he most certainly never took the sharp turn toward the Fairchild home, no matter how intensely curious he got.

So, once the group text was actually formed early in the next week (Tim: it was a promise not a threat!), Martin had taken part in the first of many nearly identical conversations. They boiled down to:

Martin: peters been weird, cant predict when he’ll be around

Sasha: we’re still pretty locked up, will let you know if things change

Jon: Elias has been elusive but I’m working on it.

Tim: can’t keep us busy forever

Besides some scattered thoughts and jokes primarily from Tim that got Martin through the more tedious aspects of the work day, the messages were all vague statements telling him “soon, we promise” and random tidbits from him of Peter being weird. The whirlwind of progress from the week prior was over. Waiting and sitting on his hands was all Martin had left.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Jon had a lot more to say over phone calls than text. That much was clear by Tuesday night as Jon called to elaborate on his frustrations with Elias and continue other topics they’d discussed the conversion prior. The burden of starting the call and coming up with a topic was blessedly off Martin's shoulders, and it made the idea of regular conversations seem more possible.

While it was a relief to still talk to someone at length, Martin knew he would run out of things to say before long. He had no stories from the university he never attended, and Jon had been witness to Martin’s strangest place of work. The more he could deflect personal questions and get Jon to talk about himself, the longer it would take for Martin to be revealed as... well. Dull.

Still, he hoped that Jon would call again soon. If Martin was around for it.

It was Thursday. Peter had been around twice already with no warning. It was getting to be mid-afternoon and he still had a duty to perform. That part of his contract hadn’t changed.

Martin groaned into his desk. It wasn’t fair to have his most mindless and daydream-conducive task twisted into something horrifying. Some little part of him hoped that Sasha’s reasoning from the week before would hold some water, that his knowledge of what was coming would somehow keep him aware of his surroundings.

There was one way to find out, as much as it made his stomach squirm, and the thought of doing so with Peter around was enough to propel Martin out of his chair and toward the cleaning closet.

He began to mop the main floor with a fervor. If Sasha was right and he managed to avoid getting sucked into a wall, Peter absolutely could not witness it. He would have to move fast, even if it scared the shit out of him. And really, was it so scary? It wasn’t something he remembered, and it never hurt him. Probably. He would at least feel pain if something had happened, right?

He had always been fine. A bit sore from lugging things up the stairs, but otherwise nothing had harmed him as far as he knew. What was he afraid of? A person that could watch him as he went about his work in a haze? Or the wall refusing to release him after he entered, trapping him without ever releasing his mind from-

Oh, no, his heart was racing, his hands shaking more by the second. Swallowing had become more difficult, dry throat and a tongue that felt three times too big. Martin walked toward the stairs, trying to keep water level in the mop bucket. The water level was the only evidence that he’d lost time, and he wasn’t going to do this without something to show for it.

Letting out a breath that sent shivers down his arms, Martin placed the mop down and took out his phone.

Martin: so im going upstairs now? to do the mop thing?

Martin: gonna try and use an old analog tape recorder like you all said. any final thoughts would be appreciated

He waited, growing more concerned by the second that he would get no answer, but finally someone responded.

Jon: Sounds like you’re all set. Be sure to send a message here once you’ve gotten back out again, or if you don’t go in at all.

Tim: yeah any situation where your feet are on solid ground really

Jon: You said before that Peter was around. Is it safe to assume he’s left?

Martin: ok will do. he’s not here now so im getting it over with so he wont see anything weird

Jon: Okay, good luck and let us know when you’re out.

Martin: thanks

Sasha: if things start to seem off, retreat back downstairs and call us immediately

Tim: ^^^

Martin: okay, talk to you all soon

Before Martin pocketed his phone, he saw Tim leaving a string of thumbs-up and broom emojis, and as he began up the stairs the occasional vibration in his pocket revealed that something was happening past his goodbye. It wouldn’t be good for the recording if he kept it on like that, but he had no intention of silencing the phone or the people on the other end. He clicked on the tape recorder, placed it in his pocket, and began his climb.

The bucket and mop were as unwieldy as ever, and for not the first time he thought about how nice an elevator would be for his knees before shaking his head. This was a time for focus. Drifting thoughts were a one-way ticket to lost time in a much more literal sense than usual.

He was walking up a rather repetitive staircase, but every once in a while there would be an imperfection that reminded him of where he was in space. A crack here, some chipped paint there. Looking around there were plenty of place markers. His feet were on stairs that were the same as they always were.

About a quarter of the way up, this method began to make his stomach flip. Once, he looked too far ahead, too much up. So he kept his eyes down. He’d been keeping to the inside of the stairs, but his gaze drifted too far and oh, no, another spiral leading down which was worse.

This building, he thought, didn’t appreciate him looking too hard. Fine. He could stay present without a visual anchor. There was still buzzing coming from his pocket, thought less often than before. At least they were still around. If anything happened, they would know quickly and be able to do something. Sure, he hadn’t seen them solve any problems yet, but there was enough confidence between the three of them that they had to have some level of competence.

Martin looked down at the bucket in his hand and held back a scream.

Instead, he hissed at the thing, “When?! We aren’t even halfway up! I let myself think for two seconds and- oh, dammit!” He dug into his pocket for the tape recorder, but it was nowhere to be found.

Martin turned toward the wall, any fear being quickly replaced by petty indignation. “Hey! I paid for that! You can’t just- as if you even need to pick my pockets when you’re a big, stupid voice recorder all on your own!”

Besides the echo of his own voice bouncing up and away from him (mocking him, probably) nothing bothered to respond. He had half a mind to toss the bucket and mop down the stairs for the sake of his aching arms, but he resumed his walk with a quickened pace. If Peter hadn’t come back yet, and it didn’t sound like he had, Martin would do something while he had the time.

At the top of the stairs, Martin opened up the group chat just long enough to type one message.

Martin: lighthouse stole my tape recorder

Then he stuffed the mobile away and made a beeline for the horrible machine he’d been faced with every day that week. His phone buzzed with incoming messages, the motion in his pocket slowly becoming more of a reassurance.

First, he took the time to look at it as a whole. The back couldn’t be reached with it pressed up against the inner wall. Did it make sense for it to be put there? Unsurprisingly, when he’d finally looked up how lighthouses were supposed to work, the panel itself was nowhere to be found as part of the process. What a surprise!

When he’d started the new order of button pushing that past Friday, he’d tried to listen for the mechanisms behind it, but he didn’t know enough about normal mechanics let alone whatever this was to make any judgments. He’d cursed himself then for not paying attention and asking more questions at the start, but there was no helping it.

Really, the fact that he’d been hired at all should’ve been a dead giveaway.

The dial that had once allowed Evan to speak was entirely cut out from the process, a disconnected thing that gave no feedback after being twisted. Did that mean the entire cause was lost? Or had its function been moved to another piece, or a series of pieces-

“Ah, Martin, thought I might find you up here.”

Martin was going to die.

It was a thought that came unbidden, the only clear thing in his head as he turned to find Peter Lukas climbing the last stair without a sound coming from his less than newly polished leather shoes. The soles should’ve made a clicking sound.

Peter looked at him and smiled. “Scared you, didn’t I? Always been told I have quiet feet.”

“Yeah, you did. Wasn’t very nice.” He couldn’t keep the slight shake out of his voice. His hand reached out and grasped the mop’s hand.

“Not for you maybe, but the look on your face is very funny.” The smile grew just a little more cheerful.

“Sure. Well, I’m-”

“Cleaning, right,” Peter said, pressing a hand to his forehead as if remembering something. “Glad to see the last smudges from them wiped away, if I’m honest. More people, more mess for you to clean up later.”

“I suppose, yeah. Need to clean anyway, though.” To emphasize his point, Martin began to clean the floor around and away from the panel. “Did you…”

“Oh, no, nothing really. Just wanted to check in a bit more after all the... disruption from before. And to make you jump a little. Need to make my own fun, sometimes. The week has been dreadful, Martin.”

And you’re spreading the feeling around. “Hm,” Martin replied, as dismissive and uninterested as he could muster.

Martin could hear the smile in Peter’s voice and knew he’d failed to dampen the man’s strange energy. “Yes, well, I’ll be off. When-” And then Peter was interrupted by a prolonged buzzing in Martin’s pocket. “Need to answer that?”

Shrugging, Martin continued to mop and kept his eyes to the ground. “Weird spam call, probably. Mum wouldn’t call my mobile.”

“Mm, good answer. Company time and all that.” With an odd stretching motion, Peter glanced out the window. “Oh, and what were you doing when I came up?”

“Stretches,” Martin replied abruptly. He coughed and evened out his voice. “The walk up is terrible.”

“And that’s why I have you do it for me!” Peter’s laugh came out rough and strangely quiet, a noise that settled under Martin’s skin. The old man’s face twisted into an unreadable smile, something that underneath the mirth felt like a taunt. “But enough of that. Don’t know if I’ll be back again today. And keep that thing quiet if you’re not expecting work calls. Nothing worse than being contacted from anywhere in the world at any time, truly.” The smile seemed to sink into a genuine, almost childlike frown, and Peter slinked back down the stairs without another sound.

After about five minutes of mopping, Martin released the hand and collapsed on the couch. Stupid, stupid, of course he would come right as he was about to fiddle with things.

The prolonged vibrations had ceased some minutes ago, and Martin finally opened the group chat to see what he’d missed. There were several messages from earlier in which Tim and the others had continued to chat. Then his message and general confusion and concern which Martin had expected. Finally, a missed call from Sasha, followed by a text.

Sasha: do we need to get over there?

Blinking, Martin considered the message. Was that an option?

Martin: no everything is over

Martin: peter came in, had to lie about it being a spam call

Jon: of course he did

Sasha: well, call when you think it’s safe

Tim: and maybe check your pockets

Immediately, Martin patted himself down, though nothing seemed amiss. His phone was of course still on him, and there was nothing new.

Martin: everything else is the same. the lighthouse wasnt nice enough to trade something for my tape recorder

Tim: :(

Jon: Sasha is right. We’ll do better if we talk over the phone later when you’re sure to be out of Lukas’ sight. Keep inventory of your things and call us when you can.

Hesitating for a moment, Martin looked down at the winding stairs.

Martin: if you had to get here how long would it take

Sasha: about two hours if i’m driving

Martin: right

Martin: okay. ill call you soon

--

The same conclusion was made as before, only moreso. Martin would keep his head down with exactly zero poking around. The lockscreen of his mobile would show no notifications to mitigate the risk of eavesdropping (what if his phone was stolen by his evil workplace?), and unless there was some sort of emergency no messages or calls were to be made during his work hours.

Peter certainly knew something was going on. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Martin would have to hope they were both committed to playacting their routine for as long as the others needed to get back and do something.

The thought dug a pit in his stomach. Pretending that everything was exactly the way it had been was just... being alone for most of the day. He’d enjoyed receiving random messages at work and the sudden movement in his pocket that meant someone was around. It was a normal thing for people, texting when they’re supposed to be working. Pity he’d mucked it up so fast.

Long after he’d prepared for sleep, Martin sat on his bed with mobile in hand. His contact list was so short that he didn’t even need to scroll to find Jon’s name. It was right under an old manager he’d never deleted from his contacts.

His thumb twitched over the call button. He wasn’t going to do it, but it was a nice thought. They’d already spoken at length today, with everyone showing enough concern that Martin had needed the alone time afterwards to breath.

That being said, enough time had passed for him to be itching for any conversation he could get, and he wanted to talk to Jon because he still didn’t quite get Sasha, and conversation with Tim tended to run short because Martin didn’t know how to keep things going after he’d dumped all of his grievances on the guy the week prior.

And he liked talking to Jon. And maybe it was because Martin understood a topic Jon cared deeply about, but Jon seemed to like talking to Martin, too.

There was no call that night, and he was out 20 pounds for that tape recorder from the resale shop.

[giant-sketches]

Guardian Naga Chpt. 4

 I have come to deliver on my word of a longer chapter with more sketches attached! Plus, a fun surprise! We’re getting into the good stuff now my friends!!! If you have yet not read the latest, or any chapters thus far please do check out the links below. Also if you would like to be added to the tag for this fic please don’t hesitate to ask. :D

Chapters: 1/2/3/

   Another two weeks had passed as Roman continued to visit the Naga with sweets and converse with him about his day. Only two months remained before Remus’s return, but despite this fact Roman found himself looking forward to his meet-ups at the caves. He shared stories of his youth and about many harrowing adventures he’d experience due to his mischievous brother. He spoke of the wonderful people in the kingdom and about his childhood friends. The plan was progressing smoothly, but Roman couldn’t help wanting to learn more about the Naga. He only talked about himself while there and the Naga would remain silent and listening. Thus, during his free time he read any books he could find relating to his new friend. 

   Sadly, not much was written about the Naga besides the one fairy-tale he vaguely remembered before. After an unsuccessful search the solemn King was about to give up when an anomaly caught his eye. Two books set beside one another displaced an unusual amount of darkened space between them; as if there was nothing attached to their bindings. Taking a chance Roman removed the two false coverings to reveal an enlarged space hidden behind. Inside lay an old journal with the name of the first king inscribed on top, Virgil.   

“What in the world is this and why was it hidden away?”

   Checking first to see if anyone around, Roman quickly returned to his personal quarters in order to further inspect the journal. He took additional precautions not to damage it by wearing gloves as he proceeded to flip through. The journal appeared to be a sort of day-by-day log the first king wrote in to keep record of the kingdom’s progression. For the first few years not much was written besides the occasional conflict among lords, complications with trading overseas, and a six month long famine. The famine records were particularly interesting as it seems to end abruptly with entire fields filling up with crops overnight and rain washing over the land for three whole days. Something so unreal, it was like a miracle!

“What if…was it the Naga?”

   Roman paused for a moment to contemplate this train of thought that popped into his mind. What if this was the Naga’s doing? If it was then why did the Virgil not write anything down about meeting him? As Roman continued looking through the journal he found not even one mention of the Naga. Yet, more miracles kept occurring: from alliances being formed with decade long enemies, a pandemic being cured in less then a month, and the appearance of magic itself in a select amount of people, including the past King. It was well known in history books that King Virgil was a fan of dark enchantments and had complete mastery over shadow spells. 

“Wait! What if this journal is also enchanted? If that’s true then there must be some kind of trick to it…hidden text maybe? How would I get it to reveal itself though? If I remember correctly dark enchantments dealing with paper included elements like spit, ash, and blood being placed on the paper to reveal anything hidden.”

   Still, Roman was unsure of which to test out first. True enough he could try all three, but because of how old the journal was he was afraid of damaging it if his attempts failed. He’d have to decide on one and hope for a good result. As he scoured his brain for any hints as to which component to use a peculiar thought came across his mind; blood, the King’s blood. Was it possible that the first King would only want those of royalty to see what was hidden inside? If it was about the Naga it would make sense.

“Blood it is then.”

   Without hesitation Roman placed his hand underneath his desk and pulled out a small dagger. Swiftly, he placed the blade against his thumb and pressed until blood trickled out. He pulled the journal towards him  and cautiously placed his thumb at the corner of where the entry about the famine began. Instantly, the blood spread rapidly across the page and dyed it a deep crimson red. Blackened cursive rose up from the stained pages and wrote out the first King’s meeting with the Naga and his conversations with him afterwards. Near the end Virgil spoke of building a shrine for the Naga to live in and be with the people it protected. Yet, the final passage cased Roman’s blood to run cold:

To my dearest friend, I am sorry that I was unable to keep you safe and happy as I had promised when we first met. The people who once worshiped you as a guardian deity and depended on you have been blinded by their fears of the unknown. As I write this I am gravely wounded and I cannot come to see you as I had hoped in my final moments. I wanted to protect you, but in the end I couldn’t bring myself to harm my countryman, this mistake has cost me my life.

However, I fear it has cost you an even greater punishment that you are undeserving of. You are not the deceitful monster they think you are, yet despite my greatest efforts to convince them they fell to their own anxieties. I can only hope you can forgive their foolishness. As for me I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted in the end. I could only remain your friend as I had fallen for another. I hope one day you’ll find your destined one as well my friend.

Now, if this message is ever found by one of my descendants who has become the next King, please grant me my dying wish. Seek out the Naga wherever it may be dwelling and tell him how sorry I am. As the current King I want you to apologize on behalf of the entire kingdom and mankind. Please do this for me so I can rest without any regrets.

   Roman’s tears were overflowing as he kept trying to wipe them away, but more continued to appear. All he could think about was the loneliness, pain, and heartbreak the Naga must have suffered for the past 500 years. Roman felt he was no better than those foolish humans of the past as he thought back to their first encounter. He had to go apologize immediately, even if today wasn’t a meet-up date there was no time to waste. He needed to grant Virgil’s dying wish no matter what.

   Usually Roman came to visit every other day in the morning or evening, but he was now in front of the caves midday. Though out of breath from sprinting towards the forest he began calling out into the caves for the Naga.

“Naga! Are you there? It’s me Roman. Naga!” There was no answer. Was he not inside the caves?

   Roman had no idea where else to look as they had never met anywhere but at the caves. As he began to worry that he may not be able to meet with the Naga today his ears perked up at the sound of leaves rustling behind him. Unsure of who or what might be lurking inside the brush he spun himself around quickly in preparation. However, before he could even think about taking further action he froze at the sight of the Naga emerging from the forest. 

   This was his first time laying his eyes upon the massive creature when not covered in shadows. The Naga’s frame was lean with smooth skin covered in emerald colored scales. He had his chest loosely wrapped by a grey cloth. His ears were pointed outwards and decorated with a single gold earring. The Naga’s hair was a deep black and most spectacular sight was his tail that was covered in an array of gold and green scales that glittered in the light. Overall, only one word came to mind as Roman continued to gaze in awe,

“Beautiful.”

   Startled, the Naga finally noticed Roman standing still outside the entrance to the cave. It was obvious he had missed Roman’s remake as he sheepishly began backing up into the forest in order to hide himself. Panicked, Roman called out to him,

“Wait! It’s okay, you don’t need to hide anymore.” The Naga was surprised at Roman’s remark and hesitated.

“Are you truly alright with my presence?”

“Yes, please. I want to see you.” The Naga was lost for words as he slithered his way out into the open. 

   Roman was still amazed by the sight and as he reflected back on their first meeting he found it hard to believe he was ever afraid of someone so lovely. What an utter fool he had been, he thought as he turned away in shame. Then, without warning, Roman felt two large hands wrap around him. He had failed to notice the Naga had leaned down towards him and was now gently picking him up. Despite the scales his touch was soft as he pressed his pointer finger up against Roman’s face and lightly stroked it. Roman was unsure of what was going on, but he felt no discomfort and actually enjoyed the uncommon sensation.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you little one. Know I will not harm you, but I noticed that your eyes were reddened and grew concerned for your well-being. Have you been feeling alright as of late?”

   Was the Naga worried about him and trying to comfort him? This Naga was beyond considerate, how could he have not seen this all until now? As Roman was about to lose himself in another burst of tears he could feel the hands surrounding him begin to stretch and expand.

“Wha-”

“Ah, no need to fear. It’s just that my body shifts in size throughout the day as my body heat rises. It will stop soon enough, so please endure it until then. I promise not to let you fall.”

“O-Okay.”

   Roman had become flustered at the sight of this already massive creature growing even bigger right in front of him. He was embarrassed to admit he enjoyed the view as he gave the Naga a soft smile. It did not take long for the fingers surrounding him to quickly outgrow his tiny frame. Once the growing stopped Roman was small enough to roll around the Naga’s palm freely if he wanted. The creature had become gigantic! Concerned over Roman’s possible reaction to his growth the Naga whispered,

“Are you not frightened by my new stature?”

“Oh course not, yo-”

   Roman stopped short as the gaping hole on the Naga’s face, where his other eye should have been, caught his attention. He shivered at the realization that the people from 500 years ago must have done that to him. The Naga, however, took this reaction differently and instinctively used his free hand to over it up. Roman jumped at the sudden movement and fell backwards.

“Hideous is it not? I apologize for scaring you Roman. I’ll let you down now so you may leave.” A sad smile shown on his face.

“What, no I’m not afraid and I don’t want to leave.”

Instantly, Roman could feel the sadness reflected in the Naga’s now enormous eye permeating through his body.

“You must be a wonderful King. To have such courage when standing face-to-face with a monster such as I. I’m sure you are dearly loved by your people, but while here with me you have no need to hide your fear. You can be truthful with me.” 

A sharp pain ran through Romans’s heart. “A….monster? Do you really see yourself as a monster?”

“What else would I be? Even now my size is large enough to crush you between my fingers. Are you trying to convince me that you see me differently?”

“I-I do.”

“I’m sorry, but I find that hard to believe.” Roman gritted his teeth as he grew increasingly agitated.

“I found Virgil’s journal!” 

The Naga was shocked. “What did yo-”

“I said I found Virgil’s journal from 500 years ago. For some reason it was hidden away in the royal library and the text about you was locked away with a dark enchantment. Despite that I was able to read his final words and dying wish.”

“Virgil’s dying wish…what was it?”

Roman was now sobbing, but he cleared his throat in order to give a clear answer. 

“He was killed while trying to protect you from the people who had formed an uprising. He wrote how sorry he was that he couldn’t see you in his final moments or return your feelings of love for him. His dying wish was that one of his descendants would find the journal and seek you out in order to formally apologize on behalf of the kingdom and humanity. That’s why I came here today in such a hurry.”

“So it wasn’t just because you wanted to see me then?” 

“Wha-no, of course I wanted to see you. I’ve always looked forward to our meetings.”

   Roman couldn’t help, but blush at his sudden remark. The Naga too found himself blushing lightly. An awkward silence fell between them both until Roman decided not to delay on his mission anymore. 

“Anyway, I wish to fulfill the first King’s dying wish and wholeheartedly apologize for the kingdom’s sins against you for the past 500 years. Even if you chose to never forgive us humans that’s fine, but I personally would like you to know that I truthfully do not see you as a monster. If anything you’re undeniably beautiful in every way.”

“Beautiful? You find me beautiful?”

   Roman struggled to answer as his head had overheated from embarrassment. Had he just confessed to the Naga? The Naga noticed how woozy Roman looked and believed it was best for him to call it a day. 

“You needn’t worry little one, despite all the things humans have taken from me I still have a heart. Thus, I accept your apology as the current King. Thank you for taking the time to come deliver it in person after all this time.”

Roman collected himself and responded, “You’re welcome!”

“I think for now you should return to the castle to rest. You appear exhausted and I’d hate to see you come down with something.”

“Yes I think you’re right. I’ll take some time to rest, but I promise to return shortly.”

   The Naga only smiled as he gently placed it’s hand onto the ground to let Roman off and then quickly slithered back into its cave without a word. Roman casually walked back to the castle lost in thought as he found himself confused about his feelings for the Naga. Had he actually fallen for him, or was he simply just mistaken?

End Chapter 4

@soviet-speck​ @valentin0vkc @legendsgates​ 

[skelligiri]

Obligatory lockdown fic

“Good night, angel.”

Click.

Aziraphale hung up the phone, and, with a hum and a spring in his step, went right back to baking. He had come across a carrot cake recipe in one of the oldest cookbooks in his collection earlier that day and busied himself with weighing Ingredients (the carrots miraculously fell out of the bag finely grated). But no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind focused and to not think of the phone conversation, he couldn’t suppress the desire to pick up the phone again as the night progressed. The print date of the book, which indicated that it had been printed shortly after the Reign of Terror, didn’t help, jolting memories of being locked up in the Bastille and being saved from a violent discorporation by an unlikely friend.

2 days. After that, he wouldn’t hear Crowley’s voice again until July. The angel wasn’t sure why he was even giving it any thought - Crowley had a habit of sleeping for months, years, even decades at a time, and had done so countless times over the millennia.

He just hadn’t spent prolonged periods of time asleep since the aborted Armageddon a year prior, Aziraphale mused. Crowley had mentioned how he couldn’t get himself to cause any havoc because everybody was miserable enough already, which was not surprising – the angel knew that, at heart, Crowley was a decent person. However, when reaching for the cake tin, a thought stopped him in his tracks – Could it be that Crowley was not only bored, but that the misery of the situation had gotten him down? His friend certainly hadn’t sounded happy.

---

Somewhere in central London, a demon swatted aimlessly at his bedside table until he found his ringing phone, sending his designer sunglasses tumbling to the floor in the process. It didn’t concern Crowley; his glasses knew better than to invoke their already cross owner’s wrath by breaking.

“What?” he snapped. “It’s me again. I just wanted to know how you are feeling today.” “Same as yesterday. Same as every day since the lockdown started. Bored. Didn’t forget, did you?” the demon drawled. “No… no, and it does make sense I suppose, there are certainly things I am looking forward to after this whole lockdown business. I wonder how the birds at St. James’ park are doing. If the little cafe on Belgrave Street is still going to be there - it used to be a book shop, you know. Anyway, now that I have a better understanding of the baking process, I do wonder if I will have a newfound appreciation for cake. Not that I ever did not appreciate cake, as I’m sure you are well aware, but the cakes at this particular establishment have always been home baked by the owners, wonderful people. Their children worked some odd jobs there to help pay for their education –“, Aziraphale babbled, unable to contain the flood of words until it was cut off by his friend’s exasperated groan. “Aziraphale. You do know that depriving someone of sleep is a method of torture, right?” Aziraphale blinked in response. “You were asleep already? I thought you were going to wait two days?” “Yeah, but I had a very productive day yesterday. Scared a seedling into growing 2 inches, sat around doing nothing. Started a few arguments on Twitter, although that really wasn’t much of a challenge. Sat around some more. Decided to treat myself to an early nap.” “Ah. Right, um. I really just wanted to know how you were doing. And…”

The angel found himself considering his words for a moment. Even in his head, they sounded a bit silly. Still, the question burned on his tongue.

“Out of curiosity… ever since the events of Armageddon and the… fallout thereof. Have you ever felt a little lonely?” As expected, the question was followed by a cackle on the other end of the line. ‘”Yah, I really miss Hastur. Real hard, not having to put up with the threats and the stench.” He paused. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to miss the ponces up in heaven. Missing Gabriel, are you? Michael?” Aziraphale’s face contorted, and he outright shuddered when Crowley added “Sandalphon?” “Oh heavens no!” he blurted out, ignoring Crowley’s snort. “I don’t miss heaven. The bookshop feels more like home to me than heaven ever did, you know that.” “Well then, let me go on the record saying that I don’t miss Hell either, big shocker I know. Was there anything else?” There was a short silence between them, which Aziraphale found himself unable to fill. “… Angel, I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me to come over or not?” Crowley asked. “I… I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” “Right. Well in that case, I’m going back to sleep.”

Aziraphale fidgeted. There was one more question that needed answering. “W-well, before you go! You… You definitely shouldn’t come here. But, in theory, if I were to find a way to come over to your place…” “…You. Come over here?” “Yes.” “Wha, you gonna get on a bus during a pandemic? I thought setting a bad example and getting too close to people is something you consider demonic activity. Angel, I’m almost impressed.” “Without breaking any rules, of course!” “And how would you go about that, then?” Aziraphale could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smirk in Crowley’s voice. “… Not sure. It’s just hypothetical, really. Anyway, would you mind if I did?” “’Course not, why in the heavens would I mind, not like I haven’t had you over before.” “… Right, right. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Good night, my dear.”

Click.

----

Not even Aziraphale’s gramophone seemed to be able to drown out the silence of the following days. The angel often found his gaze locked on the black feather he kept next to his recipe books. A keepsake from Crowley. He had passed it off as a meaningless gesture. Aziraphale knew better.

Being honest with himself had never been the angel’s strong suit. But he had gotten better at deciphering what his gut was trying to tell him in the months since the war had been averted. Rather than decades, centuries or even millennia, it now took him a mere fortnight to realize that he couldn’t drown out what he wanted more than anything.

He wanted to be near Crowley. To keep his friend company. They had always had each other to rely on whenever one or more of the horsemen had raised their heads.

But Pestilence posed a very unique challenge, turning the very need for people to reach out to each other during hard times into a potentially deadly risk. He couldn’t just walk out of the bookshop and set a bad example for humans. Maybe he should wait until July, he thought to himself. Sit here, on the couch, where the demon had slept so many times over the years there undoubtedly was a Crowley-shaped indent in the foam, drink tea and eat cake while catching up on his vast collection of books… but after hearing his dearest friend’s voice, this thought suddenly felt so much less appealing. He found himself picking up the phone again, aching to speak to Crowley, but what was he going to say? There was nothing else to say. The time for talking had passed, he realized. Now was the time to act – which was a harrowing thought.

But he should definitely follow the rules of the lockdown, Aziraphale decided, which meant no leaving the house. Not being able to get sick or transmit the disease was beside the point. Laws were there for a reason, after all. But while the laws surrounding the lockdown were not to be broken even by him, not all laws that applied to humanity applied to a celestial being. For one thing, angels weren’t bound by the laws of physics. And just like that, an idea hit Aziraphale as his gaze locked on the phone in his hand.

Crowley had done it before, he had (repeatedly and proudly) bragged to Aziraphale all about how he had outwitted Hastur back before Armageddon’t by travelling through the phone line and trapping the duke of hell on his ansafone. It was one of his favourite stories to relay after a bottle of wine and usually culminated in him thanking the angel for being the sole reason he even kept the ancient eyesore in his flat. If Crowley could do it, Aziraphale reasoned, why couldn’t he? “It might just work…” he mumbled to himself. Hesitating, Aziraphale considered the phone line separating him from his demon. The rules of the lockdown were one thing, but there were other rules to consider. 6000 years of careful consideration, of boundaries, of careful movements so to not spook or even endanger the other. But those times were over now, weren’t they? They were on their own side now, they didn’t need excuses. They were meant to be free. They deserved to be free.

And nothing was stopping them. Not really.

Aziraphale took a long look around his bookshop. He closed his eyes. A thought, a silent prayer, a faint smell of ozone, and just like that, he knew that it would be safe until he returned, whenever that may be. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and without further ado, willed himself to dissolve into particles straight into cyberspace.

Inaudible to anyone but Aziraphale, the phone line for the next fragment of a second was filled with panicked, garbled noises of distress, as a defragmented angel was trying to herd the atoms making up his corporation through a telephone line. He had to admit: Pulling this off without any atoms escaping was brag-worthy. He found himself wondering if bouncing around weightlessly like this was what a rollercoaster felt like. He didn’t much care for it. And he didn’t much care for re-emerging, either, all his atoms snapping back in place like magnets, sending him stumbling aimlessly. All he could do was brace himself for the unavoidable impact.

But luckily for the angel, Crowley’s phone had rolled out of his hand when he’d fallen asleep after their last conversation, on a bed that had to have been touched by a demonic miracle or a dozen to reach such an unnatural level of softness. The yelp that followed Aziraphale’s body hitting Crowley full-force would have usually caused the angel a great deal of concern, but Aziraphale was too occupied with his own spinning vision and trying to figure out where he was and which way was up, limbs flailing, helplessly entangled in black, velvet bedsheets.

“What the FLYING FUCK-“ Crowley yelled, followed by a string of expletives, and Aziraphale realized that the sounds were coming from the floor next to the bed. “Ah – I didn’t mean to - Apologies, my dear.” he offered breathlessly. “Aziraphale?!”

The demon’s upper body emerged from beside the bed, golden eyes wide. “What the heavens - How did - wh-?!”, he stammered, ever so eloquently. Aziraphale scrambled to sit up, tried to brace himself on the wall, missed, and found himself face-first on the bed with a groan. He realized that Crowley must have rushed to his side when he felt himself being propped up by a steadying hold under his arm. That thought was confirmed when he heard Crowley hiss under his breath. The angel held on to his arm for dear life. “I… I’m so sorry to wake you like this. Are you hurt?” “No, just got better acquainted with the floor, thank you very much.” Aziraphale barely managed to lean against the headboard to wait for his vision to stop spinning. “I just. Thought this might be a way of coming over without breaking any rules. I must admit, you made this whole traveling through the telephone line business sound rather a lot easier than it is.”

His vision slowly focused on the demon, who was sitting beside him on the bed, more frazzled looking than the angel had ever seen him. Unkempt, bleary-eyed, and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. With a start, Aziraphale noticed that the plants on the balcony had shifted into unnatural positions. As though they were leaning in to see what all the commotion was about. Crowley took notice and turned around to glare at the plants, which immediately went back to their original positions.

Aziraphale took a steadying breath. “It’s good to see you, my dear.” “Yeah it’s… yeah. Same.” the demon stammered. “I was a little worried about you. You must really be concerned about the humans, to so adamantly refuse to break the rules. Commendable as it is.” Crowley made a face at that last remark. “Rub it in, why don’t you.” “I’m not trying to be flippant, dear. What I’m trying to say is… I’m a little surprised you didn’t come over.” Aziraphale admitted. “I didn’t come over ‘cause you told me not to.” the demon retorted. “That’s never stopped you before. You know as well as I do that I was tempting you.” Crowley blinked at the angel’s blatant honesty. “Angel,” Crowley began, “This is different. I just…” Crowley threw back his head and let out a frustrated groan, “I couldn’t just go on a limb and invite myself to stay over for however many weeks or months it’ll take for Pestilence to get tired of mucking up everyone’s day and to bugger off again, could I? Taking up your space and drinking all your wine. ‘sides, we’re not just talking catching up, but. You know. More than that.” When it became apparent that Aziraphale wanted more, Crowley ran a hand over his face. “Living together for fuck knows how long. Didn’t want to overstep.”

Oh.

“W- well,”, Aziraphale started, a familiar warmth rising up in his face, “I certainly didn’t mean to overstep-“ “You’re not.” “Oh. Good.”

Aziraphale swallowed. The heat in his face remained. “Still… I can make myself scarce, if you like. Go back to the bookshop, if one of us needs space, I’m sure I’ll get used to traveling through the telephone line. But, truth be told, I have missed your company.” He swallowed again, followed by a deep breath. “Rather terribly, actually. In fact, I don’t know how I ever managed to spend as much time apart from you as I used to. Things have been different since the events of last summer, haven’t they? Speaking of, the anniversary of what could have been Armageddon is coming up in three months, hopefully things will be better by then. Maybe the Ritz will have re-opened and we will get a chance to celebrate the world not coming to an end, like we did last year.” When Aziraphale’s eyes met the demon’s, there was no trace of white to be found in them. “Until then, I’d very much like to stay here with you. If you’ll have me.”, he added.

The silence hung over them thickly, every second stretching out endlessly. “… Crowley?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, but the demon appeared to be frozen in place, still holding on to the angel’s arm. By the time Crowley finally opened his mouth, Aziraphale wondered if he had said too much.

“I need a nap.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Beg your pardon? Did you hear what I just said?” “Y- Yeah, and, if you don’t mind, I really need a nap.” “You may feel free to nap all you want, but-“ Aziraphale started, but before he could say anything else, he felt himself gently being pushed back against the headrest, and before he had realized what was happening, Crowley’s face was buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped around the angel’s torso like his life depended on it. Aziraphale quickly snapped out of his bafflement and gave his friend a concerned look. “Are you alright, dear boy?” he asked, and Crowley nodded into his shoulder wordlessly. “… Well, are you still planning on napping until July? I will have to miracle myself some books over if you do.” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale returned the embrace, one hand gently stroking the demons back, resulting in a small, full-body shudder. Crowley chose not to comment when, emboldened by this reaction, the angel pressed a kiss on the top of his head, but he did make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of contentment. They had touched more frequently since the events of the year prior, more precisely since the night of the body swap, but it never failed to make their hearts flutter. “Well then, let’s get comfortable, shall we? If we’re in this for the long haul.” He grabbed the cover and draped it over Crowley. And as the arms around his torso squeezed him just a little tighter, he added “We have all the time in the world. The cakes in the kitchen know better than to go stale.”

---

Well, seeing as it’s technically the 30th anniversary of Good Omens  today, I thought I’d try my hand at writing. This is actually my first fanfiction, and I plan to write a bit more often in the future. Hope you like it!

[kyotakumrau]

ROCK AND READ 087 - interview with Kyo - part 3/3

(part 1 here & part 2 here)

－ At the moment the latest sukekiyo's album is your 3rd work 'INFINITUM'. I think you went beyond the common musical depth and scale. There's of course progressive feeling, electronic side, songs that express the subtle femininity. It feels like some changes happened in the band as you pulled away from so many different elements.

京  That's because the members are absolutely amazing. I really think so. As I just do the things I want, when there's something I want to try doing in a different way, somehow they get what we talk about and accept it fully.

－ When you presented them with the fact that you like 80s style cheap sound do you feel they responded like away?

京  Yeah. They will take each idea to crunch it and digest, and then come back with it.

－ I don't think you give them ideas the same way for all songs, so not only presenting it directly, sometimes tossing it deliberately slowly, from the right or left (kyotaku: like pitching a baseball), do you alternate it like this?

京   Of course, it's like that both ways. I'm also sometimes surprised when suddenly a totally unexpected songs comes. Like 'oh? something like this?' But when I try I'm able to find lyrics for it. And then it easily gets shape. This is how 'dorothy' was created. I got 'we got this far, let's do it'. Takumi, who wrote this song, submitted it because he thought it'd be fun, like a challenge. All members are having fun and pitching in various directions.

－ So each member is continuing to pitch ideas that stir others up?

京  Everyone is playing catch. If I got this kind of pass, I 'll respond with one like this. Ah, something like this came in so I'll go there next. The more we play catch and the passes continue the song becomes more and more sukekiyo like.

－ At any rate the speed of your working process is very fast, but it feels so healthy.

京  I think so too. We don't have release schedule decided so each of us just works on music when we want and have spare time. That's why it's not like studying in a preparation for the exam. It's wanting to study by yourself when there ain't no exam scheduled. Same for each of us, it's free. Have fun when you want to have fun, study when you want to study. In the end the most important part is that you managed to study. Not caring about exams at all (laughing). That's why even in the middle of DIR's tour I get new songs from sukekiyo members. Even if we don't have a release date decided.

－ Usually someone would think a person is busy during a tour and avoid sending songs to them (laughing).

京  Nope, it's totally fine with me. It makes me excited. Like 'eh? Sending it now? niiice!' Don’t you think that it's actually more fun this way? Having a feeling of jumping over [obstacles]. Like because it came at such time I need to reply soon. It's the best.

－ You're really enjoying this process. There are no other so called project bands that continue their activity for so long, but for sukekiyo 6 years have passed since your formation and all members musical appetites are just getting bigger.

京  Everyone is enjoying this, really.

－ Is there anything that you don't want to lose as sukekiyo, anything that you see as your foundation?

京  It's hard to say. It's nothing that can be explained with words. But there's something like that. Something like sukekiyo's line (as in boundary or perimeter), a feeling we should stay within that space. For our foundation, it will be the songs we created and the emotions and the atmosphere we obtained from our line. That's why it's something that happens naturally. There's nothing like 'let's choose feminine themes because it's sukekiyo', nothing easy to follow like that. sukekiyo members just understand what sukekiyo's line is. It's not clearly stated but everyone just can sense it.

－ Are you talking about that with other members?

京  We all discuss the sound, but not the big picture. Although we do talk about ideas like when we have a vague shape of a song we'd say 'I have an image like that for it'. Each member will chew on what I tell them, add their own color to it, and think how can we add it to the game.

－ What you're saying is just so very band-like. Well, I do get it we're talking about a band (laughing).

京  It's very band-like, everyone has a lot of freedom. I do understand how aggravating writing music while being chased by deadlines, having a release date set, can be. I want members to have freedom as much as possible when working, I only tell them let's release it sometime this year. That's why we write songs when a good idea comes to mind when each of us has time. From the creator's perspective that's the best way. sukekiyo writes with this kind of energy. And that's why we can perform even not completed songs live. Isn't it interesting this way?

－ Already with DIR EN GREY you would often all of a sudden change the melody or lyrics during the performance. Of course you also do that with sukekiyo, suddenly using new instruments at the shows, you have this ever evolving part.

京  It's something other members also enjoy (laughing). Like 'woah! Seriously?!' What do we have to do to get this etc. When we suddenly do it at the rehearsal there are obviously some things that don't work out. There are times when we just do minimum, but overall everyone is just having fun. And as a result songs are evolving. After recording there are times when you wish you have done some songs different way, because when you play them live they will start changing. To tell the truth I'd really love to record an album after shows and finishing a tour, but that's impossible, so we try to create an environment as close to that as possible, and at the shows it's like we are playing around [with songs] in a serious way. I think that's how it can be described best with words. With DIR it's the same. From my standpoint, I'm playing around in a super serious way. It can be said I don't treat it as work.

－ And that's how concerts became the place where you unveil your creations.

京  Yes.

－ Do they already feel like the place of creative work?

京  Yeah, they do. It's not about showing fans 'we've made this new song, please listen', it's just that it's fun for us, even playing still not completed songs.

－ From my side as well there's this excitement of waiting, how will this song sound today or how will the songs I know change.

京  Of course it's easier to achieve perfection playing concerts when you have everything planned and decided and you tour without changing the setlist at all. I understand that as a professional musician but I just don't find it appealing. Everyone feels different everyday, sometimes you feel good but sometimes you don't. I want to express it openly. I always want to show my true self. If something is anamorphic each time you look at it, that’s what I find appealing. Every concert you go to will be different. Of course that's true for most of bands, but I think that having this anamorphosis each time is what sukekiyo is about.

－ This volume of RR will be released on December 25th, just a few days after that the readers will be able to enjoy your show 'Sorera wo Izonsho to Yobu' in Shibuya. It's rare that you're playing a year end show.

京  I wanted to have a year end show [with sukekiyo] for some time but couldn't because of DIR's schedule. We decide DIR's first and then plan sukekiyo around that in available time. Even the not so happy us can do it for new year, trying that.

－ But we're talking about Shibuya with a bunch of noisy people shuffling at the crossing.

京  Yet wouldn't it be interesting to have people in black gather at such place, to darken it a bit? Isn't it okay to have dark/gloomy people as well? But because the concept is 'Kaihou no Gi・Unrestricted Ceremony' fans can scream and sing at the concert, go wild, anything goes. Well, it's a new year.

－ If you toss a word like 'new year' everything will seem to be okay. A nice way to put it (laughing). So there were no rules [for the show]?

京  Yeah, that's right. I thought it would be nice to have a day like that. And because we had a day like that it's also okay to have days when fans can't move next.

－ As it's a new year show, are you planning to perform some new songs?

京  We're planning on having the show divided into two parts, one song per one part. So two new songs. We will play them even if they are not completed yet. We've mostly decided on the songs, so we will definitely do it.

－ The harmony between the band members when you are performing live is strongly reflected in the song you perform there and then, right? I think you will get a crazy reaction from the people in the audience just exploding. Is it possible that the feel of the new song will change because of this?

京  Of course. Until now fans couldn't move or make any noise, so the only chemical reaction that occurred was from band members' sound and the atmosphere. With 'Kaihou no gi' we wanted to see what would come out if we recorded that, the influence from the fans' response and participation. I think it will definitely be different.

－ You also have a tour scheduled in February next year.

京  Putting it simply we felt we're not yet done with INFINITUM, so it's like an additional tour. I don't know how many and if we will include new songs, but to finish this phase we will do this extra album tour while adding some new flavor.

－ The first day of the tour is your birthday.

京  Yeah, but I don't care. But it seems important to fans.

－ Well, I care about that. Maybe you don't feel like celebrating other people's happy events (laughing), but I'd want to celebrate it somehow.

京  Ah... I'm kind of twisted, I'm the type to think that even if this year people will celebrate my birthday they probably won't next time. I live with a concept that nothing will last forever, the difference is only if it's a long or short time. I just say 'thank you' [when people wish me 'Happy Birthday'] while I keep thinking I'll be gone in few years anyway. I just say it honestly. Everyone must be thinking the same thing. They just don't want to show such ugly side because they are mature (laughing).

－ Stop being so gloomy (laughing). In the photo shoot today you have showed your bare legs, I didn't know you had so many tattoos on your legs.

京  It's not many. I'm filling up the space now, there's still long way to go.

－ You say it's not many, but you don't get tattoos to turn your own body into your own artwork.

京  Yeah, I just get them when I want new tattoos.

－ Is that also the part of you that wants more, that can't be satisfied?

京  It is. My hairstyle is also constantly changing. I get bored with my hair all the time.

－ The ideal style is not fixed, but do you sometimes tell yourself something like 'I'm not there yet'?

京  I don't have an ideal. Simply speaking, the best option is to just be born good looking. Doesn't everyone think that way? But it didn't happen for me (laughing). So I don't have an ideal look. I don't have this kind of optimistic thinking of holding on to an ideal that will not come true, like no matter what it's impossible, no way (laughing). It just gets irritating. People who believe that really have to try their best all the time. So I don't want to waste time on that. I wish I could afford to do that, but because I'm never satisfied I just can't.

－ What is it that you want the most at the moment?

京  Time. And a body that doesn't need sleep. At the moment I'm abstaining from sweets because of a kind of a resolution game that I randomly decided on with fans, I even forgo sweeteners. I'm angry at myself for picking my only pleasure (laughing). Can't even reduce stress like that.

－ But it's not like you can keep pushing restricting yourself staying indifferent. Even though you seem indifferent you're enjoying it, but at the same time you're frustrated.

京  Yeah, it's like that.

－ Musically, do you feel like you were saved by creating sukekiyo – another place to express yourself?

京  Of course. We have released quite a lot. Restraining me is just not possible.

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 6/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!

First chapter in series. Previous chapter.

Chapter 6:  A day in the life of Bucky, while he watches over your grief-stricken sleeping body.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot Warnings: major triggers for death of loved ones and grief, possible trigger for food, prescription medication

Note: Okay, so Bucky’s suite in Stark Tower is mapped out in my mind. I have a sketched floorplan if you wanna see it? Lemme know in the reblogs/replies/messages. Also, there is a note at the end of this chapter; pls read. Love yas!

So Far Away Chapter 6/?

Gasping for air, you sat up, scrambled around in the darkness and screamed for your mum.

The lamp came on, lighting up the bedroom and bringing Bucky into focus. "Y/N, Y/N, come here. Come on." His arms were around you, pulling you to him. "Stop. Stop. You're gonna hurt yourself." He kept trying to secure your broken hand, but you were still yelling, trying to crawl away. Not sure what else to do, he let you go. You pushed yourself right off the bed, landing half the right way up. Standing, you looked around. What were you trying to do? Where were you trying to go?

You studied everything in the room, looking for clues.

Door. You ran, stood at the threshold, finding no answers in the darkness beyond. A dresser covered in books and journals. A record player, and stacks of vinyl. Beside table. Glass and of water. Clock. 3:27 am. A city behind a window wall. A bed. Huge. Bucky, sitting with his legs arched, defeated.

He watched you walk around the room lost and confused. But, maybe it was progress.

 …

 After you balled up against the wall in the lounge room, screamed until your throat burnt, you passed out. It took hours though. Bucky considered calling for Cecilia. A sedative might have eased your pain. But, your pain was so new, so private. He decided it wasn't his place to invite anyone else into it yet. So, he waited.

Once you'd fallen asleep and he promised to look after you, he carried you to the bed and sat by your side. It was quiet in the bedroom; Bucky hadn't felt the calm of quiet for a while. He missed it. So too had Alpine, apparently. The cat came slinking into the room, refusing to look at Bucky.

"Fuck," Bucky said under his breath. "Where have you been hiding?"

Sometimes, when he knew nobody was around, Bucky would talk to the cat like he knew what he was saying. That night, while you slept, he told Alpine about you. As he heaped a double serving of food into a bowl, he apologised for forgetting breakfast. It was the first time he'd ever forgotten a meal. When he went out on missions, there was a roster of people tasked with looking after the fluffy white thing that lived with The Winter Soldier.

"Don't like having someone else here, huh?" Alpine tended to hide around people he didn't know. He was a bit of a myth to the Tower. "Promise you'll like this one," Bucky told him back in the bedroom, climbing onto the bed to sit by your side. Alpine joined him. "Think she's probably got a bit of crying to do yet though."

By about three in the morning, when Bucky felt sure you were going to sleep the whole night through, he settled down next to you and let himself sleep. Alpine was curled into his back, warm and loving.

Bucky woke at first light, an old habit he was slowly unlearning with the help of excellent blinds and strict orders to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not let anyone come calling. That morning was different though. He got out of bed, put biscuits out for Alpine, checked in with the team, then spoke to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"That index of Y/N's friends - does that have phone numbers?"

Bucky sat outside the bedroom, on the floor where he could see if you stirred but not wake you with his conversations.

Bonnie, owner of Glory café; boss and friend; answered in two rings. "Hello?" Her voice was already desperate.

Bucky then realised he should have practiced or asked someone else to do it. By his own admission, as he dragged you to safety through the crumbling streets of D.C., he wasn't really a people person. Although, you'd very much disagree with that now.

"Um, hi. My name is… James. I'm a… search and rescue… officer," he tried. Bonnie was tired, but hopeful; she didn't question what he was saying. "I'm notifying… friends of Y/N L/N that she's alive and safe,"

"What?! She's- Does she- Where-"

"I can't provide any more detail than that. Sorry," Bucky said, hitting his palm to his head. Idiot.

"What? Why? Who is-"

"Please pass the information on to the others that work with her," Bucky added. Before Bonnie could ask how a 'search and rescue officer' knew about your job, Bucky said, "Thank you. Goodbye," and hung up. "Fuck!"

Bucky was unsure of when he'd last done something so profoundly stupid.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., who else is in the tower?"

 …

 "I don't know… This is a lot to take on, man," Sam said seriously, leaning against the bedroom door frame.

"I know," Bucky agreed, watching you roll over in your sleep.

Alpine, who had been asleep at the end of the bed, maybe trusting Bucky's word that he'd like you, woke up. He looked at the men in the doorway for a good couple of seconds before trotting over to them. Bucky lent down and scooped the cat up. He nodded to Sam to move back to the lounge.

"So what do you need help with?"

"I tried to call her boss. You know, start to let people know where she is - that she's alive."

Sam smirked. "And how'd that go?"

"About as good as you're thinking. I froze. Made up some really fuckin' stupid cover story,"

"Wasn't smooth?"

"Wasn't smooth," Bucky confirmed, letting Alpine jump from his arms onto the kitchenette counter.

"Did you think about telling the truth?" Sam asked, watching Alpine with distrust.

Bucky snorted. "Hi, The Winter Soldier here. I've got Y/N. Don't worry, she's passed out in my bed."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You and Steve are made for each other. Pair of drama queens,"

"Okay, what do I say then?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam sighed, looked around the space. "Where'd she puke?" he asked.

"Over by the plant," Bucky replied.

Sam nodded, thought some more. "I don't know, man. You've just got to be honest. This-" he motioned to Bucky vaguely, "-is a good thing. You're doing a good thing. They're gonna be happy,"

"But what if they don't believe me?"

"Aliens just attacked their city. They're living and breathing the unbelievable."

Bucky nodded; Sam was right.

They talked some more, catching up and checking on each other in that subtle way soldiers do. When Sam left to find food, Bucky sat on the couch and stared at his phone.

Bonnie, again, picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" she greeted, sounding more tired than before.

"Hi… Um, I called before, about Y/N…" Bucky expected her to say something, but she didn't. He took a breath and continued, "I just wanted to apologise. I, um, didn't really…"

"Who are you?" she cut in.

"My name is James, but most people call me Bucky. Barnes."

Bonnie laughed. "Bucky Barnes? Like, metal arm, Captain America's Bucky Barnes?"

"I'm not Captain America's… but, yeah. That's me,"

"Is this a joke?" she asked.

"No. Um, I can video call if you want proof?" Bucky asked. Sam's suggestion.

"God, no. I look awful… I just… Yeah, okay. So… What do you have to do with Y/N?"

"I… rescued her, on the day of the attack. And, uh, she's here with me now,"

"Right, of course you did. And she's okay?"

"She busted her hand up pretty bad but it's in a cast. But, ah, she knows… about Carly and Ellie… and… both her parents-"

"No!" Bonnie gasped.

"She's asleep. I'm just gonna look after her here,"

"Yeah, well… Can't really imagine anywhere safer than with the Avengers."

Bucky felt less anxious as the call went on. When Bonnie didn't wrap up the conversation, he kept answering her questions. He asked if there was anything he could do for her. She declined; insurance would rebuild Glory and everyone she loved was accounted for. And, there was nothing Bucky could do about the dead. 

Bonnie was just relieved to talk to someone who didn't tell her everything was going to be okay. By the time they ran out of things to say, they said goodbye and Bucky promised to call again with an update.

Bonnie had given Bucky enough courage to call Luke, then Elizabeth. Elizabeth sobbed, both in joy that you were alive, and in grief for your parents. All up, Bucky spent about ninety minutes on the phone. He knew more about you, had a little insight into your life before him. By all accounts you were living a life of relative happiness. Whatever it took, he'd get you back to that. However long it took.

 …

 Lunchtime rolled around and you'd not woken up. Or, if you did, you had passed back out pretty quickly.

Dr Cecilia Reyes came to check on you. Like Sam, she stood at the door of the bedroom and put on a worried expression. "Wilson swung by," she said.

"Told you about her family?" Bucky guessed.

"Yeah. Think he's just worried about you, taking this all on,"

"I'm fine,"

"I know that. She won't be though… I brought her these." Out of her pocket, she produced a pack of triazolam. "They'll knock her out, but won't keep her asleep. She'll do that herself. When she's up, try to get her to eat something. And drink water,"

"Should she… I mean, is there anything else?"

Cecilia sighed. "Unfortunately not, Barnes. You're doing everything already. But, you know… you should probably decide where she's going." She pushed off the doorway and made her way back through the suite.

Bucky followed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, is she going to stay with anyone you spoke to today? Or family somewhere?" Cecilia looked at Bucky. "Were you… You're just gonna keep her here?"

Not once since meeting you and bringing you home had Bucky even thought of an alternative to you staying with him. Cecilia saw Bucky's blank expression.

"Oh,"

"I mean-" Bucky went to say.

"No, no. It's fine-"

"But I-"

"Barnes, it's fine," she said, putting her hands up. "You don't need to explain. Let me know if either you need anything else, okay?"

Bucky sighed. "Thanks, Doc. Will do… Most of the team are back tonight, so you might be a bit busy,"

"I've always got time for you, doll," she replied, grinning.

 …

 Bucky Barnes spent most of his time reading. He liked non-fiction best. He read about machines, history, revolutions, and bugs. That's what he did all day, waiting for you to wake up. But, you didn't.

He ate the freezer out of ice cream, and the suite out of any other food. There wasn't much. "Gotta go shoppin', hey fluff?"

It was around four in the afternoon when Steve Rogers walked in, carrying what looked like an entire supermarket's stock.

"Buddy, you are my hero," Bucky said, pulling things from the bags before Steve had a chance to put them on the kitchenette counter.

Steve laughed. "Figured your kitchen would be as empty as mine,"

"Mmmm. S'like your psychic,"

"And word is that nobody's been in or out here all day," Steve said, reminding Bucky a lot of Sarah Rogers and her disapproving tone.

"Maybe people should mind their business,"

"People are looking out for you, Buck. Can't be mad at that."

Steve and Bucky cooked together. An early dinner or late lunch. Something that made them feel like kids in Brooklyn, living together with not much between them.

Alpine sat in Steve's lap while Bucky told him about you - the whole story, from start to finish in much detail. At the end, Steve rocked on his chair, tried to hold back a trademark shit-eating grin.

"What? What's that look for?" Bucky asked, throwing a piece of food across the table at his best friend.

"You-" and he stretched that one word out, "-like her."

Immediately, Bucky started to ramble. "Course I like her. She's… sweet. Doc likes her. She's got friends that love her. Doesn't deserve to be all messed up because-"

"No, nope," Steve interrupted. "Not what I mean, and you know it. You like her,"

"Steve, I've known her for a couple days. Most of that time she's been passed out,"

"So?"

"So, we aren't all the love at first sight, one true love, I'm gonna die alone, hopeless romantic, ya know?"

Steve snorted. "You get so bitchy when you're embarrassed,"

"I'm not embarrassed!" Bucky almost-squeaked. Steve's eyebrows raised dramatically. "Fuck off,"

"Whatever. I can see it in your face. You like her."

There was no use arguing with Steve. Bucky conceded. "She's… I don’t know,"

"I remember when you used to know exactly what you liked about a dame you were sweet on… You'd go on about how she laughed at your jokes, or her red lips, or how she drank whiskey,"

"Dame," Bucky repeated. Steve was an anachronism, still. "Guess it's more complicated now,"

"Guess so," Steve agreed. "Glad you found her,"

"Yeah, me too. She'd probably be dead if-"

"No, Buck. I mean, her. Specifically. I'm glad there's something good comin' out of this one,"

"Getting sappy in your old age, punk."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. The men shared a look that said they were on the same page, jokes aside.

"So, you gonna hang around for a  bit?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah. We got that meeting at seven, but I'll stay 'till then. Should I tell 'em you're not coming?”

"Yep," Bucky said, standing up and relocating himself to the couch. Alpine jumped from Steve and followed Bucky, finding a new place to nap.

 …

 Bucky spent the rest of the night watching things on his list. He started with Hercules, like you'd mentioned, then Sam's recommendation of The Princess Bride. Bucky fell asleep on the couch, old episodes of The X-Files lulling him to sleep.

At two am Bucky woke, ate a bowl of Cheerios, then checked on you. You were still passed out, so he climbed onto the bed and watched your back rise and fall as you slept on your stomach.

3:27 am and you woke up gasping for air. After the screaming and crawling, and after you'd taken inventory of the entire bedroom, you looked Bucky.

"You're safe. Do you know where you are?"

Your breathing was heavy, laboured; you had to push the air out through the gunk stuck in your throat. "Yeah…"

Bucky waited, not moving from where he was sitting on the bed.

The headache and haze of too much sleep had clouded your mind for those first few minutes. You were confused, stuck in your nightmare, but seeing Bucky focused you. You were alive.

But not everybody was.

Tears began to pour down your face again.

"Darlin'," Bucky whispered, sitting up on his knees and holding his arms open. With no hesitation, you threw yourself into him. "I know, I know," he said, holding you, letting you collapse into him.

For thirty more minutes, you sobbed. When you sat up on your own, Bucky held a glass of water to your lips. You put your hands around his and let him help you drink.

"What do you need?" Bucky asked, trying to read your expression and body language. You wanted to answer but were, in all honesty, numb, save for the pounding headache. "If you can, you should try to eat something."

Although you nodded, you had a vacant and faraway glassiness to your eyes. For a second, Bucky considered just getting you back into bed and to sleep, but who knew when you'd wake up again.

Out in the suite, you sat at the round table and looked over at Bucky as he stood in the middle of the kitchenette. "Sandwich, maybe? How 'bout… Anything, actually. Fully stocked. Thanks to Stevie." Bucky lined up jars of peanut butter, strawberry jam, Nutella, and marshmallow Fluff.

Something about the benign normality of a simple sandwich made you feel, at the very least, okay. It wasn't easy to stand up, but you did. You walked to the jars and picked up the peanut butter and Fluff.

"Girl after my own heart."

Bucky made fluffernutter sandwiches, handing you a spoon of Fluff halfway through. You stood at the counter, slowly eating. In the time it took you to finish your sandwich, Bucky ate his, made a second, and ate that too. It made you smile.

"I'll make a cup of tea, and we'll get you back to bed," Bucky said, quiet, soft.

Part of you wanted him to act normal. Be a little bit more cheeky, or something. The other part of you was so sure you'd never be functional again, that you were more than happy to let Bucky take total control.

"Okay,"

"'Kay. Milk, two sugars," he checked.

"How do you know that?"

"Café. We had tea,"

"Oh," you said, nodding, trying to remember something that had happened less than 24 hours ago.

Bucky started to make tea. You watched his movements, your eyes following him around the kitchen. When done, he nodded to the bedroom, and you began to walk.

Without conversation, you got into bed and sat against the headboard. Bucky held out the mugs of tea to you. He climbed in next to you and took his mug, blowing on the top of it.

You snickered at the action. It made Bucky's stomach flip.

"Excuse me?" he said, whipping his head around to face you.

"What's the point in that? Doesn't do anything,"

"Alright, well, I ain't making you do it," Bucky replied, grinning. You smiled back.

It had just gone 4:15. The sun would be up soon but the light wouldn't easily find its way in. Bucky finished his tea, fished his phone of the bedside table. "Sleep music," he said, looking up briefly. From speakers you couldn't see, a familiar sound began.

"You listen to lo-fi hip hop streams?" you asked, the disbelief in your voice animating you in a way Bucky hadn't seen since you woke up.

"Yeah, so?" he said, one eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. "Full of surprises."

Bucky smiled.

When your tea was gone and you were tucked into bed, that's when you started to think again. Feel it again. Bucky could sense the shift. "Here," he said, sitting up and grabbing the box Cecilia had left. He punched two pills out of the sheet. You lifted your head just enough to let Bucky put them on your tongue, then help you wash them down with water. You didn't ask what they were, but were grateful when you felt the swelling pressure of forced sleep shut down your brain.

Chapter 7

NOTE: Two things. Firstly, I'm thinking I might jump ahead in time, because logically the next step for Y/N would be to see her extended family, attend funerals, possibly even help with the planning. I'm not sure that this is something that would be entirely enjoyable for you as the reader of this fic. Let me know what you think? If you do want the painful reality of death mapped out like that, I can do it. Choose your own sad adventure lol.

Secondly, and still on the topic of grief, I just wanted to, I don't know, just maybe say that because of my own experiences with grief and loss (most recently and most painfully, my big brother), I know how weird it is. It comes in waves, all the bad feelings, and sometimes you can sit there totally normal, even joke, and sometimes you don't move for an entire day. I'm definitely using my own experiences to shape how Y/N is behaving. So, it's not that I'm writing her as inconsistently sad, it's that grief is an inconsistent effector of mood. I don't know why I felt like I had to explain that, but I feel better for having done it. *shrugging girl emoji lol*

TAGLISTS (open, msg me) So Far Away: @animegirlgeeky @howthehellisbucky @dumbubblegum @chipilerendi All my work: @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @just-kara-no-hats @fairislesheets (IT LET ME TAG YOU!)

[yowlthinks]

As Epistolary Novels Go

**1 May 2020**

Crowley hang up and stared at his phone. Did Aziraphale just call him up to check that he was making mischief and then imply the invitation to his bookshop? Yes, yes, he did, the fluffy bastard was at his game again: suggesting an idea and then waiting for Crowley to pick up on it, making it all seem as if Aziraphale had nothing to do with it. Well, this time Crowley was having none of it, he was either getting a direct invitation to come over, or having a good long sleep at his place. As disappointing as the conversation turned out to be, Aziraphale (who called first, mind you!) would come round eventually, and a good long nap never harmed nobody.

Crowley aimlessly wandered around his apartment, watered the plants, imprinting on them how a two month stretch without watering and supervision was NOT an excuse for a lowered performance, and finally settled in bed. He figured he'd play a bit on his phone and call it a night.

At 10pm precisely a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of biscuits materialised on his nightstand with a soft pop. A note in Aziraphale's neat handwriting landed beside them:

«Good night, Crowley.

Sleep well and dream of whatever you like best.

Yours,

Aziraphale

P.S.: Perhaps we could go for that picnic when you wake up?»

- Hah! A peace offering then. You insufferable bastard… Whatever I like best indeed…

Crowley finished the cocoa and nibbled on the biscuits, they were in fact very good. Finally, he set the alarm clock for the 1st of July, 12pm precisely, and settled against the pillows. As he closed his eyes one big red apple and a note in squiggly handwriting landed on Aziraphale's desk.

«Eat some fruit Angel, it's good for you. Goes well in picnic baskets too.

X

Crowley»

**1 July 2020**

Crowley always liked a good nap, not only because it offered a chance to switch off from the busy reality, but also because of how nice it felt to fall asleep and especially to wake up. His alarm clock, knowning what's best for itself started gently vibrating. It figured a while ago that sound was not actually the best way to wake Crowley up, but vibrations appealed to his snake part and did a good job in ensuring a pleasant awakening. Crowley switched it off and started stretching his limbs one by one. Important things, limbs, very useful, shouldn't forget to activate all of them… as he turned his head towards the nightstand to give his neck a good stretch too, a neat pile of letters came into view. They were definitely not there when he fell asleep two months ago.

Crowley set up against the headboard and gingerly picked up the topmost letter: expensive stationery, neat handwriting and an elaborate seal on green wax all pointed to the only person who could have sent this (not that pointers were needed, Aziraphale was pretty much the only one who sent him letters). He opened the envelope and read the note:

~5 May 2020~

My dear Crowley,

While you sleep, I thought I might write to you from time to time to compensate for the lack of conversation. I hope you do not mind these notes and have had a very resting sleep by the time you read this.

Yours,

Aziraphale.

~

Crowley looked at the pile of envelopes and had a distinct feeling that he was about to read what is called an 'epistolary novel'. He knew Aziraphale was partial to this type of fiction, despite him actively denying the said fact (Crowley found the angel's secret book stash in that particular genre ages ago and noticed how especially well-used their spines were, and how well-stocked that section of the bookshop always seemed.) It was clear Aziraphale decided to ceise the oportunity to produce one of his own. He piled a couple more pillows behind himself and set out to read the notes.

~8 May 2020~

Hello Crowley,

You must be deep asleep already, while I find myself wondering how your plants are doing and how they will survive your nap. You did not mention neededing help watering them, so I presume you made other arrangements. For the record, on future occasions I would be delighted to take care of them at any time.

Yours,

Aziraphale

~

~15 May 2020~

Hello my dear boy,

Yet another week of self-isolation has gone by. I have switched to baking savoury now. This week I have finally mastered that old Quiche recipe! You remember we had quiche in that lovely cafe in Lille back in 1815 and you persuaded them to share the recipe with me? It came out really well, I will make it again when you wake up, so you can try it and give me your honest opinion. Otherwise, not much news on my side, just progressing along my reading list, you know how it is.

Yours,

Aziraphale

~

~22 May 2020~

Hello Crowley,

It is yet again a Friday evening and I find myself a little out of sorts. Perhaps, the lockdown is starting to get to me after all. I have not seen a human up close since that incident with burglars and I must admit I miss the conversation. Not with the burglars, you understand, not even with humans in general (I would be lying if I said I miss the customers), I miss cinversation with you, most specifically.

I do not think I ever said this to you before, not outright anyway, but I do enjoy your company, very much. I did not realise how very lucky I have been these past years, seeing you as often as I did and having a chance to dine and drink together whenever we wished, even despite the usual precautions.

I am very much looking forward to our picknick when you wake up.

Missing you,

Aziraphale

~

~29 May 2020~

My dear Crowley,

It is almost June, and I must say that I am glad for it, it seems that things are getting a little better in terms of the pandemic, but not really better in terms of how things are overall. We have seen protests, wars and revolutions, so it is nothing new, but it does not make it any easier to witness, does it?

It looks like yet another string has finally snapped. I do hope this is a start of a change for the better, but I am glad you are sleeping through this bit of it. I know how you dislike violence. I am saving notes of some good-natured chaos around the world for you, though, so that you can enjoy reading them when you wake up.

I so wish we could discuss all this in person, I hope we can do so soon.

Yours,

Aziraphale

~

~5 June 2020~

My dear Crowley,

Yet another week has passed I have heard in the news today they are discussing relaxing the rules a bit, forming 'social bubbles' as they call it. A 'social bubble' is several small households closely connected by social bonds, the idea is to allow people to meet up with close friends, especially if they live alone, for mutual suport and mental health reasons.

I think it is safe to say you are truly the only person in my social bubble. Is it not silly, how it took a major pandemic event for me to be able to say this out loud, or as it were, in writing? Yet again, I find that I have to apologise to you for being so slow to acknowledge this, I should have really been braver…

Oh look at this, me getting all silly, you will probably read this and be annoyed at how sappy my writing got. Apologies for this, dear boy, I promise I will be better in person: in expressing myself and also in making it clear how important your friendship is to me.

Missing you something terrible and starting to plan for our picknick,

Yours,

Aziraphale.

~

~12 June 2020~

My dear Crowley,

Another week, another letter to you. I have kept myself busy re-ordering the additions that Adam made and even reading through a few of them. I must admit, some are very gripping and I am grateful for him adding them to my collection. As you know, they are all first editions, so a good investment for the future, I am sure.

This made me think of how events and people in our lives curate what happens to is, what we come across and notice. I habe now ckme to the cinclusion that I should finally show you a little secret stash of books I kept for a special reason, I expect you'd be both amused and exasperated by my choices and my reasons for making them. I can't wait to see your reaction to it!

It is almost the middle of June, not long to wait now!

Yours,

Aziraphale

~

~21/22 June 2020~

My dearest Crowley,

The solstice came and went, so I have spent the longest day of the year reading and thinking of what we should do next year, circumstances permitting, on that day. You know, I realised I quite fancy joining in the crowd and spending the night among those ancient stones. Ancient relics like us belong together. We might even do the old silly abandoning of the shape and sizes, go really small and sit on top of one of those arches…

Oh, I should let you know that your absence is not doing me good: drinking alone is not fun, yet today I couldn't help it. It is such a nice evening and it has been such a long day, and I thought if I don't have you here to share ot with me, I moght drink and write this and it would be as if we are sharing a bottle or two (or five? Or is it seven now?) and talking.

So yes, where was I? Ah, Stonehenge… Imagine sunset, sitting on top of one of those stone arches, perhaps we come on the day just after the Summer Solstice, or just on any other day when it is deserted and have it all to ourselves. When was the last time we watched the sunset? It must have been just after that fateful, frightening day of Apocawasn't as you call it. This would not do, we should have another go at watching the sunset together. Let our wings out, pour some wine… The sun would go down and paint everything red and orange, like your hair! And the orange will catch in your wings too (and they are beautiful, your wings, they truly are!). And maybe mine will go a bit orange-pink too, the sunset will colour us together.

This is the wine-talking, I know, but I believe I am allowed to be sappy sometimes. I am an angel, after all, I am made to love! You know what, in fact I think it is wrong for angels to claim they are the only beings made to love. Everyone is made to love, otherwise they would not be capable of that feeling. Love is not a task, or a chore, it is a choice! So does that mean that when you gave humans free will, you also enabled them to choose love? Oh, I can see your eyebrows raising when you read this, but fear not, once you are awake again, we will get throuoghly inebriated together and discuss it properly! That's our next profound discussion topic (oh, how I miss our profound discussions!)

The other day I did something that I feel would make you proud. I was thinking of all those times you brought chaos to the world, and about what we did with the arrangement, and what you might do had you been awake now. And I thought, well, why don't I do something? You know, I have always been in awe of how imaginative your plans are. You know,the bigger ones, the really inspired ones with a proper vision. Remember how you rehearsed the M25 presentation with me? It was impressive, and you were so proud of it, I did not have the heart to thwart you, you old snake! And how you helped me with that blasted millenial assignement – they still hail Wikipedia as one of the greatest achievements (which it is)! So yes I might have sent some divine inspiration to some activists, but because I was thinking of you (when am I not thinking of you?) it turned out to be one of the most beautiful chaos disruptions of wrongness in the world I have ever seen! I mean, of course it was all done by humans, but I am terribly proud of what my littke nudge achieved. I have saved the news clippings in my word file and will show you once you wake up!

Do you know how often I look at the calendar these days? I am almost tempted to cross out the remaining days till July. And you did not even say when in July you are planning to wake up. Far be it from me to disturb you, I have brought you enough pain and inconvenience as it is, but I just hope it will be soon. The humans are on to something with all this 'social bubble' talk, and without you I have no bubble. It is lonely, Crowley, and this loneliness is starting to suffocate me.

Please wake up soon.

Please?

I miss you so much.

Forever yours, if you'll have me,

X

Aziraphale

~~

Crowley reread the letter twice. He even pinched himself to see of he was still dreaming, but no, the letter was real, and the text in it was real, all be it awkwardly slanted and smudged in places, especially towards the end.

Just three more letters remained on his night stand. He'd better finish reading them and fast.

~~

~23 June 2020~

Dear Crowley,

Please forgive my drunken ramblings in the last letter. I even tried to retrieve it back, but it refused to leave your nightstand.

I do not regret saying the things I said in that letter, I only wish I could say some of them to your face first. You deserve so much better then a drunken letter.

So let me at least tell you, in sober mind:

I MISS YOU

I WAS WRONG TO TURN DOWN YOUR SUGGESTON TO COME OVER

And that I am indeed forever yours.

Please wake up soon,

Aziraphale

~

~26 June 2020~

My dearest Crowley,

Just five more days and it will be July.

I promised myself to not drink anything stronger then cocoa since the last incident, but I have indeed started preparing our little picknick basket: some white wine, apples, and pears and some other things…

Yours,

Aziraphale

~

~30 June 2020~

My dearest Crowley,

I am writing this as the month of June is coming to an end. It went both fast and too slow (does that even make sense?!), and I am hoping that you wake up soon.

Please call me when you do. Or just come over.

Slither over to watch me eat cake,

Come and share my wine with me (or bring yours, whatever you want).

YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME, my door is never closed for you (it has not been for centuries, and it will never be, I promise you that.)

Please wake up, I miss you so much.

Yours,

Aziraphale

~~~

- Hello Angel, how have you been? – Crowley swaggered into the bookshop not bothering to hide his smile.

Whirlwind of tartan and white feathers enveloped him, and Crowley found himslef in a tight hug.

- Hello, you old romantic.

- Hello, my dear.

- Loved your letters, but I am never going to publish them. Not even under a pen name, they are mine and mine alone.

- What..?

- You'll have me, though, forever and ever. How's that for an exchange?

- Sounds fair to me. Now, shall I show you my news clippings? I think you'd rather like them.