#but as the years pass he starts thinking he'll be able to use that knowledge to protect bruce if he has to instead

[renecdote]

Jim Gordan could have found out Batman's identity a hundred different ways, from a hundred unintentionally or intentionally dropped clues, but I like to think that sometime in Batman's early years, a drug dealer or bank robber or unspecialised goon got a lucky shot in and Gordan swabbed the blood at the crime scene, quietly had it tested, then just as quietly erased the results and sat on the knowledge that Bruce Wayne was running around the city in a giant bat suit fighting crime

[gammija]

idly thinking about an AU where Jon and Martin do manage to land in the same world, in roughly the same location, but separated by time.

Lots of time.

Jon arrives in Britain, in 1988. Martin also arrives in Britain, also in the 80's - the 1780s. Maybe it's the Web putting the pieces in new starting positions, maybe it's just happenstance. Who can say.

The first thing Martin does is look for Jon, of course. Unfortunately, he realizes pretty quickly that, if Jon is here, he's not anywhere near him. But Martin's not giving up that easily. If he's going to find him, he needs resources. So, with a knack for lying to wealthy old men, and using a minimal amount of historical knowledge, he makes a modest name for himself. Hopefully enough so that Jon will be able to find him, when he looks for him -

Because Martin hasn't been able to find a trace of him yet. Not as a real person in the world, and not as a reference in any old texts or stories about odd appearances of men with alien clothes, lots of scars, or piercing eyes.

A few years pass, without Martin finding any sign of Jon. Slowly, he has to come to terms with a few facts:

Firstly, that the Fears are definitely also in this world. In his search for Jon, he's come across far too many accounts that sound eerily familiar. Though they seem to have popped up in the world around the same time he did; He doesn't have any earlier records that consistently line up with the patterns he's familiar with. Which most likely means that they - he - are responsible for their existence in this world... Martin tries not to think about it.

Secondly, thankfully, this must mean that Jon didn't arrive centuries before he did, living and dying without anyone taking notice, which Martin had gotten more and more worried about. He wouldn't have arrived without the Fears being there too. No, if Jon is going to appear in this world, (and Martin is not going to think about the alternatives), he'll arrive in his future.

Maybe so far into the future that Martin won't even live to see him. In which case, however much he'd like to avoid thinking about it, Martin has to create something here and now. Something that will last beyond his lifetime. Something Jon will be able to find as soon as he looks for Martin, so at least Jon won't have to wonder what happened to him, will know that he did not arrive completely alone, that Martin did not abandon him.

Thirdly... through his search for Jon, Martin has amassed quite a little collection of esoteric and weird stories. And, though he did it 200 years in the future, he does have some experience running an organization that ostensibly researches the supernatural, which would also be a good way to keep track of any potential new Jon leads. He thinks of naming it after Jon, of course, but it's not like Jon is going to look for his own name first, is he? And it'd raise more questions than if he named it after himself.

Cue the bittersweet ending where Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in the middle of London, asks for someone named Martin Blackwood, and finds Blackwood Organization, a public collection of ghost stories dating back to the 1800. He is given a set of personal letters from the founder, to be hand delivered only to a man called Jonathan Sims as soon as he would walk in the door.

...Or -

After yet another few years, in which Martin has set up his organization and is part of a decent network of people with similar interests (though he dislikes most of them), he bumps into someone. Jonah Magnus. It's an incredibly odd experience, though in hindsight, it was bound to happen, considering the information he's after. Martin has the urge to kill him right there, but the man doesn't seem to be from the future. He's just a creepy guy. Younger than Martin, too, which is also weird. But he manages to shake it off, and doesn't see him again.

Though he does keep tabs on him. Seeing him has set Martin thinking. He's been getting older, and his modern constitution isn't faring great in Georgian times. The organization is doing okay, but he's not sure yet if it's really going to survive after he's, well, gone, which would defeat the whole point. With a few more years, could he make it stronger? Could he maybe even reunite with Jon in person?

Furthermore, with the Fears being now well established, it's only a matter of time before someone tries a ritual. No, Martin isn't going to try and do one first, that'd be really stupid, not to mention evil. He just has to make sure that the world actually survives for Jon to appear in it.

A plan begins to form. One he really doesn't like. But one that, the more he considers it, is very possible. He's quite sure now the Fears mostly operate on vibes. Sure, he's maybe not a full avatar, but through letting the public read stories about the fears, hasn't he kind of spread awful knowledge? Hasn't he seen a lot of terrible things in turn? The Eye was already fond of him, according to Jon.

And even if it were to go wrong... Martin would die in either case, and the only other person suffering would be Jonah. He can't find it in himself to feel too awful about that.

Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in 1986. After a short and panicked search, he walks through the doors of the Blackwood Organization, Hilltop Lane 148, Oxford. The receptionist greets him. She seems somewhat shocked as she does so, tells him to take a seat as she makes a call. He doesn't know what else to do, so he sits. The chairs are surprisingly comfortable.

A few minutes later, someone he doesn't at all recognize enters the foyer. He looks at Jon, stops, freezes. Jon stills as well.

The man is unfamiliar in every way. He's short, for one, his skin a darker complexion, hair curling in a way his never did. But those eyes, as soon as he sees them, he recognizes. Those are the eyes of the man he trusted to kill him.

[unhingedhousehold]

count the sheep

summary: you can't sleep and bradley passed his sweet mom's genius method to help you.

lol. omg. was scrolling through tumblr when i found this post and one of the reblogs said they used to go through alphabet and name a person they love whose name starts with each letter and... that's how i gave birth to my 2nd story lol who would've thought I'll have 2 babies!

this story is so funny in my head sffdgfgr i had so much fun writing this sfagafwfsgsgsgsgdg okay enough with the giggles

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader (reader has hair)

warnings: mentions of bradley's parents, mentions of pineapples on pizza (lol), mentions of mint choco flavor (lol again), implied smut, a bit of marriage proposal thought (bradley is a simp), bradley saying fuck!!, my knowledge about natops and navy based on my 5 mins google research so apologize for any mistakes, english isnt my 1st language so you know the sorry for any inaccurate words and bad grammar drill!!

words: around 2k i think

i don't consent my work being translated or copied, please be respectful of someone's work!

Bradley felt like it's been hours since you've been turning and tossing on your side of bed when in fact, it's only been around 30 minutes. He already turned off the lamp, a playlist created to help both of you to sleep soundly still playing, yet you're still wide awake squirming trying to sleep. You were in his embrace earlier, but escaped because you simply just can't stop moving and shift your body a bit from Bradley's. He heard you grunt, and that's his cue to get you back to his embrace, his arms wrapped around your body and chin on your hair.

“I say this with so much love, please stop squirming or I'll have to tie you on the headboard.” He heard you chuckling and even though he can't see you but somehow, he's able to detect there would be a witty answer from your upcoming reply.

“Oh kinky, wouldn't be the first time though.”

See?! You and your smart mouth will be the death of him!

“Pervert. Seriously, what's up? You're usually the first one to go to the dreamland. Try to relax and stop thinking, okay? We had a long day; let's rest our tired body, yeah?”

You sighed, feeling guilty and trying to escape again from his embrace so he'll be able to have his sleep, “That's what I've been trying. Sorry. Maybe I should be sleeping on the cou–” he stops you with a kiss on your lips, “Nah, don't apologize,” and tightens his grip to prevent you from getting away again, "and not a chance."

You relented and hugged him back, with muffled voice, you reason, “This is why you shouldn't let Bob chose a movie. I don't do well with horror.”

“He won today's quiz from Cyclone. Phoenix would've killed me if I interfered with Bob's choice of movie. Besides, you have your eyes closed the entire time the movie is on! And you know it yourself you will never be able to say no to Bob.”

You smiled fondly at his statement, recalling the time when Bob offered you to try his mint choco flavored ice cream and you ended up liking it to normal amount (up to this day, Fanboy still convincing you you're basically having toothpaste as a dessert. Hangman as the Vice President of Mint Choco Ice Cream Lovers kicked his ass for that). “Bob is really the worst enabler in my life.”

You can feel Bradley's laughter from the way his chest grumbled. He then hummed along the song that's currently playing, usually his humming would help you sleep faster, yet it's not working.

You're tracing something on his back, from your initial to his, and mixed both of your initials when he started talking again, “You know, maybe I know a way. This is something my mom came up with when she was dealing with her insomnia.” He said it with so much ease, so different from years ago when he didn't even wanna talk about his mom. You started writing his Mom's name on his back.

“How?”

As he felt you writing the O letter, he answered, “Count the sheep.”

You stopped your movement from writing the I letter, “So I should literally counting them to thousands? I've made it past 300 only back then.”

(You remembered it because you had 3 coffees in one day thanks to back to back studying session you had to do during exam period.)

“No, you're not literally counting the sheep. It's more like you try to think of things that fit the topic you chose and count them, but don't google the answers. Just lay in bed and think of them.”

“Does it work for you?”

He answered when you just finished his Mom's name, and now you're going to write his Dad's, “Most of the times, yes.”

Bradley felt it when you're done writing NICHO, index finger about to start writing L when you quietly asked, “What kind of topic did you chose then?”

“Inactive United States Navy aircraft squadrons between 1980 to 2009. What's on NATOPS Pocket Checklist. NATOPS Emergency Procedure Basics–” before he can continue with more Navy related that you have no idea about, you looked up and kiss his lips tenderly to shut him up, “You're such a nerd.”

He laughed, kissing the top of your hair and defends himself. “Not always like that. Sometimes I think of ways to please you. My favorite topic to think about, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands that previously on his back smacked his ass lightly.

“Or you can use my mom's way, she told me to go through the alphabet and name a person I love whose name starts with each letter.” Bradley started writing something on your back, like you did earlier to his.

When you felt him writing your last name, that's when you found your voice back. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“Yeah, I used to do that a lot when I was a kid but I don't think I can do it now.”

“Why?”

“Because your letter is the only letter I can think of. I don't need to through from A to Z to think of someone I love.”

With your fist, you hit his chest lightly, “You're such a sap.”

“Only with you, sweets.”

His index finger started to write M, followed by R, S, continues with B, R, and then A. You had an idea what he was about to write, so you decide to try his Mom's method.

“Okay, I'll try.”

He just finished writing W with heart emoji in the end when he replied, “Go on. I'm listening.”

You wrote A on his chest, rocking your brain to come up with someone whose name starts with A.

“A.. I can't think of any A... Aaron?”

Bradley tensed up, the movement of his index finger trying to write the V letter suddenly stopped and shifted his body a bit to get a look at your face, “Who the hell is Aaron?”

“What? Urgh, I don't think this method will work. It's just one male name and you're already this worked up. How am I supposed to go through until Z?”

“The Aaron I know in your life was your ex-fling! You could've mentioned Ally!” Your brows furrowed, looking at him with confusion clouded your face, “She makes omelet you claimed is to die for at the diner we frequent to?”

You laughed at his goofy but correct answer, “You're unbelievable.”

You're back to his chest, writing B as the next letter. “Okay. B.. hmm...”

You both knew damn well who is the person going to be, but riling him up is your favorite thing to do so you made your voice to be the sweetest and full of hope voice that you'll certainly say one precise name.

“Oh I know, this is the easiest,” You practically can feel Bradley's anticipated eyes, smile at the ready and kisses that awaits you after you said one name, his fingers ready to write so much after he finished i love you on your back earlier.

(He's just that good with his timing, huh? You can't let him have his victory, though.)

“It's Bob! Next for C...”

Bradley released you from his embrace, fingers stilled in the air, and giving you that look when you told him you like your pizza with pineapples on it, “What the fuck?”

You showed him your innocent eyes, a kind of eyes that will let you get away with anything and everything, blinking them, “What? I'm doing it right! Bob starts with B!”

He huffed, hands covering his face dramatically, “You know there's someone else whose name starts with B.”

You taunt him, “Yeah? Who?”

Oh, he loves you so much for that.

He pouts, voice like a little kid whose mom rejected his idea to go biking with friends, “Oh come on, big elephant in the room?”

Your eyes lit up when he said that, as if you got what he meant by the elephant in the room.. because you should! How could you forget his name? A name that you're screaming to when he went down on you! A name you fervently vocalize when he's ball deep insi –

“Hmm.. Benjamin Penny?”

Shocked at your answer, his mouth goes wide open, formed a big O, “Are you kidding me?”

And what happened next was your laughter filled the room with Bradley hovering over you as he tickled you with so much force; from your waist to your sole, your stomach isn't lost on him as he blew so much raspberry on it. Not only that, he attacks you with kisses on your neck, biting the juncture between your shoulder and neck, the back of your ear tickles at how much force he puts to make you laugh that you can't say anything but laughing. When you got lost in the feeling, he's back on tickling your waist.

He's really good at memorizing your body, thanks to the amount of times he spent to explore on it. You decided you couldn't take another tease from him when you felt his right hand trying to make its way on between your closed legs, and as you tried to get away from his teasing by hitting his shoulder, an idea came up, “Stop it, Cradleeeey!” But it seems like he didn't hear you, looking at how his hands busy kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“Hey Dradley, stop it! Okay, I surrender!” He's now looking at you, confusion over his pretty face because he just registered what you just called him.

“What did you just call me?”

“Cradley. Dradley. Eradley? Bradley starts with E sounds so weird.” Both of his hands are now on your side, face inches away from yours, “Fradley is funny though. Oooh, Gradley?” You kissed his nose, and his cheeks as you said each name.

“Did you just change the first letter of my name?”

“Yeah. Now I know what you meant by elephant in the room! You said to go through the alphabet and name a person I love whose name started with each letter, right? Hradley sounds weirder than Eardley, don't you think?”

He laughed so hard at your expression and to muffle his chuckles, he hid his face on your neck. You can't help but to join him as you wrap your hands around his neck.

“Wait until we get to T.” He said after so much effort to stop his giggles.

“Oh my god! You're right. Hey, Tradley,” you giggled, amused by it and he kissed your forehead because he didn't want to interrupt your laughter and looked at you like you hung the moon (you did, according to him), “I don't think I'll be able to pronounce Xradley and Zradley well though.” You said the X and Z with struggles, and for your attempt to pronounce Yradley and Wradley next, he rewards you with a kiss to your lips, deepening it when he felt you opening your sweet lips to welcome him.

–––

And the next few weeks when Bradley was deployed and had a hard time sleeping, he chose his topic about ways on how to propose you. He woke up smiling as he vividly remembers what he came up with. He thanked his genius Mom for her count the sheep method; that's how he knows his Mom has always been, is always, and will always be with him, just like she promised.

the ending is a bit weird but whew 🥹🥲🫣 if you make it to the end, thank you for reading!

[silvfyre-writings]

Tell me a Story Ranpo-kun Pt. 2 (BSD Fanfic)

Welcome back! First of all, I'd like to say thanks to all the comments I received on the first chapter! I'm grateful to you for taking a chance on this story despite the tags, so I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

Normally, I'd wait to finish the next chapter before publishing this one, but I'm feeling pretty confident I'll have chapter 3 written in a week or two!

So, yeah, i hope you enjoy! Feel free to let me know your thoughts!

CW: suicidal thoughts, medical inaccuracies (I am not a doctor, and I only have a year of nurse school as knowledge)

-------

True to her word, Yosano really does handle everything, so much so, that Ranpo doesn’t have to do anything but sit and wait to hear from her about what happens next about this program she’s starting up. Yosano had left him with a little booklet of information on what to expect, and Ranpo had flicked through it just to appease her. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what he was getting himself into—an experimental treatment that will either extend his life or end up killing him. It’s a little scary, not that he'll admit it to anyone, not after he’d sounded so determined when accepting the offer in the first place; he thinks Fukuzawa can tell he’s a little spooked though, as his guardian didn’t leave his side for the entire night afterwards, only leaving him once Poe had returned the following day.

“Looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Poe-san.” Ranpo says as he watches the nurse change his sheets for him. Ranpo’s helping of course, from the safety of a chair; shoving new covers onto his pillows and folding up the dirty sheets so that they’re easier to carry. “I’ll be going in for my eighth stay after all.”

Ranpo’s only a little upset about returning to hospital. He really thought he might’ve been able to hold off until next year at least.

Poe doesn’t look at him as he continues to make the bed, although he gives an understanding hum. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in a few days if the bags Ranpo can see under his eyes are anything to go by, but despite that, he still continues to help Ranpo with whatever he needs without any kind of protest.

“Are you okay?” Ranpo finds himself asking when Poe’s silence continues. “I know you’re quiet and all that, but you usually don’t mind holding a conversation.”

That seems to drag Poe from whatever he’s thinking and he looks up at Ranpo, a faint smile on his face. “Ah, no, I’m fine, Ranpo-san. My apologies, I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“Studying?” Ranpo doesn’t know exactly what’s involved in nursing studies, but he’s often seen the student nurses passed out in strange places after particularly intense bouts of studying.

“…writing actually.” Poe says after a brief silence. “I had an i-idea that wouldn’t leave my mind, so I got a bit c-carried away in jotting it down.”

“Oh? Can I read it?” Ranpo perks up, interested. Poe’s only shared a few short stories with him since he’s been here looking after him, but each of them has managed to capture Ranpo’s attention like no other writer has. The stories that Poe scribbles into his notebook show just how talented of a writer the man is, how he can easily string words together to construct a beautiful world with characters that are capable of dragging the reader into the story, unable to escape until one finishes the story.

Ranpo’s come to admire Poe’s writing, and he’d once told Poe that, grinning when the man had blushed and tried to tell him that his stories weren’t that good.

“It’s not even a story yet, Ranpo-san. Just an idea.” Poe argues, although he doesn’t say no.

“When it’s done then.”

“Maybe.” Poe says as he comes over to stand in front of Ranpo, holding out his hands for Ranpo to use as a support. Ranpo reaches out wraps his hands around Poe’s arms and stands as Poe helps to pull him upright. He hisses at the way his knees protest the motion, and allows Poe to guide him back to bed. As Ranpo’s crawling under the covers, Poe speaks. “To answer what you said earlier, about me seeing more of you, I am aware. Yosano-sensei’s asked me to be a part of the team that will be administering the treatment.”

“She has? Aren’t you lucky!” Ranpo had initially thought that Poe would just be stopping by occasionally as he shadowed one of the older nurses for his studies, not once had he thought that Poe would actually be a part of the team. He found he didn’t mind though; Poe was friendly and easy to get along with, and there was still so much he didn’t know about the man. Suddenly, the anxiety surrounding his next stay was easing, knowing that he wouldn’t be completely bored.

“I was surprised when she asked. They don’t usually allow students in on clinical trials after all, but I guess I’m doing something right.” Poe looks happy, like he doesn’t believe he’s ever done anything right in his life before. Ranpo finds it odd, but doesn’t question it. Not that he really gets a chance to even try when Poe talks before he can even think of a response. “Do you know when you’re being admitted yet?”

“Not yet. I’m sort of hoping it’s not until next month at least.”

“Is there any particular reason why?”

Ranpo hums and nods. “It’s my birthday at the end of the month… I’d like to not spend it in the hospital if I can.” The look Poe gives him when he says that is a sad one, and at first Ranpo thinks the man is pitying him, but then he realizes that it’s not that, but that Poe is sad for Ranpo. He decides he doesn’t like that look, and quickly changes the subject. “Well anyway, I hope I can help educate you on all the perks that come with being chronically ill.” He says with a grin.

“P-Perks?” Poe says, a stunned look taking over his face.

“Yeah! You know, like how I get all the attention I could ever want, and how I can eat whatever I want without being told no. Those kinds of perks.”

“Oh, so that’s why I see you eating sweets all the time.”

“Well, if eating healthy actually helped me, I might be more inclined to do it.”

Poe snorts from where he’s picking up the laundry, and soon he’s laughing, and the sound of it is enough to have Ranpo laugh a little as well. Just like his voice, Poe’s laugh is a soothing sound, gentle and light much like a warm summer’s breeze. It’s a nice sound.

The laughter dies off sooner than Ranpo would like, and he vows to try and make Poe laugh again another day.

Ranpo is admitted to hospital a week before his seventeenth birthday.

Naturally, he’s not happy about it, and complains about it to Fukuzawa as he packs a bag of his belongings to keep him occupied. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to be in hospital this time, but from the way Yosano had phrased it over the phone, it wasn’t going to be a short one. Fukuzawa had listened to him as he ranted, nodding, and agreeing with him in all the right places; it reminded Ranpo of the time he’d first come into Fukuzawa’s care, when the man hadn’t quite known how to interact with him. It wasn’t the same as back then, of course, since this time it was because Fukuzawa was just as unsure as Ranpo was.

His guardian had planned to close the café for a week or two, to help Ranpo adjust, but Ranpo had quickly refused, arguing that Fukuzawa shouldn’t have to put his entire life on hold because of him; Ranpo already had enough guilt over how many times the man had already done that, and he didn’t want anymore. Eventually, Fukuzawa had conceded, although he’d promised to visit Ranpo as much as possible, and reminded him that he was only a phone call away if Ranpo needed anything—anything at all.

And it’s with that, that Ranpo walks into Yokohama Hospital, doing his best to look confident despite feeling anything but. He’s holding onto Fukuzawa’s hand—he was grateful to have the man by his side for this—and are greeted by the reception staff the moment they enter the building. Yosano comes down to meet them and escorts the two of them to the room that will be Ranpo’s home for the foreseeable future.

“Just because it’s an ‘experiment’ doesn’t mean you have to commit to the entire study.” Yosano says as they walk down a hall. “If you want to pull out at any time, let me know and we’ll have you back home in no time.”

“I won’t. I’m not giving up.” Ranpo’s determined to see this through, regardless of how much strain it places on his body. He can’t imagine this drug is going to do much worse than what his body already does to him on a near weekly basis.

Yosano gives him a smile, already knowing his response before he’d even said it. “I know, but I have to give you the option anyway.”

The room Ranpo’s going to be staying in is just like any of the other rooms, but it’s a little bigger; but only a little. But other than that, it’s just as empty and white as the rest of the hospital, and he’s just glad that the room is his and his alone, because he just may have given up if he’d had to share with someone else. “It’s very boring.” He says without meaning to.

Fukuzawa huffs a laugh from behind him, and a hand comes to rest on his head. “We can change that. I’m sure it won’t take long for you to strong arm the staff into helping you redecorate.”

“Just so long as you don’t go smuggling one of those cats from your café into the room, you are free to do what you like.” Yosano smiles. “I’ll leave you to get settled and then I’ll introduce you to the people working on the study with me.”

Ranpo visibly shrinks, and he ducks his head to avoid the concerned looks thrown his way. This is the part he hasn’t been looking forward to; seeing just who it is that’s going to see him at his worst. He knows Poe is one of them, which is more of a relief than he’d thought it would be, but he has no idea who else is going to be around, and that scares him. Will they judge him? Or will they say he’s not ‘sick enough’ to be here in the first place?

A hand lands on his shoulder and Ranpo looks up into Yosano’s eyes, kind and reassuring as they always are. “Aside from the other doctor on this study, I selected everyone myself, Ranpo. You don’t have to be scared.”

“’m not scared.” Ranpo mutters, because he’s not going to admit that he is—he’s stronger than that—and pulls away to sit on the edge of the bed. “If anything, they should be scared of me!”

“By the time we’re finished here, I think you’ll have that covered, kid.” Fukuzawa sighs, even though he’s got a faint smile on his face that he hides with his sleeve.

Ranpo decides in about three seconds that he doesn’t like the other doctor that’s going to be monitoring him alongside Yosano. The man’s tall, arrogant, and clearly rich just based off his clothes alone. Like, seriously, the suit he’s wearing looks like it costs more than everything Ranpo owns, and his Japanese is atrocious. And while he may know what he’s talking about, he has no bedside manner, looking at Ranpo like he’s more of a test subject than an actual person; Ranpo doesn’t hide his displeasure, and he can see Yosano already preparing for the coming war.

But the worst part is the way that Poe is standing as far from the doctor as he can possibly get, more hunched over than Ranpo’s ever seen him, anxiety, and stress on his face. At first, Ranpo had thought that it had simply been the fact that Poe was the only student in the room, but the more that the doctor kept talking, the more Poe seemed to shrink, and that was when Ranpo made the connection that they must know each other. Ranpo doesn’t like the way Poe seems scared of the man and it’s that, that makes Ranpo particularly spiteful towards the man he doesn’t know—Fitzgerald is his name, and that’s all Ranpo cares to learn.

Haruno is also there, standing on Poe’s other side, and Ranpo’s glad for her presence. She’s been apart of his care for almost as long as Yosano has been, so he’s not surprised his doctor chose her. And obviously, there’s Poe, who Ranpo already knew about.

The most surprising member of this incredibly small team, is Nakahara. He doesn’t understand why the man’s there; he’s a social worker that works with the psych kids mostly, and despite the fact he should be listening to Yosano and Fitzgerald talk, he can’t stop his eyes from continually drifting over to stare at the man; not only because he’s confused as to why Nakahara is here, but also because the man’s chosen to stand next to the tallest man in the room, and the height difference between the two is hilarious.

Ranpo’s tempted to take a picture to send to Dazai, knowing his friend would find it just as funny, but he doesn’t lest he risk Nakahara drop kicking him—he’s seen the man do it; it’s a valid threat.

“Why is Nakahara here?” He asks, interrupting whatever it is that’s being said. Fitzgerald’s eye twitches.

“You’re a minor, Edogawa-san.” Nakahara says. “I’m required to be here to provide any support you might need.”

“If you don’t mind.” Fitzgerald cuts in. “You really should be paying attention to what we’re saying, Edogawa. This is important information regarding the clinical trial and—”

“And your precious drug that may or may not help me, I know. I’ve been listening. But all you’re doing is repeating yourself and I’m getting bored.” Ranpo stares the man dead in the eyes, a grin forming on his face that has the rest of the staff rolling their eyes; used to his antics. Even Poe—whose known him for not even a full month—is trying his best to hide a smile. “So, unless you have something new to tell me, I’d appreciate if you stop talking.”

Another eye twitch.

“What Ranpo means,” Yosano interjects gently, “is that he’d like to know more about what we plan to do rather than the drug itself.”

“Fine.” Fitzgerald sighs. “I’ve been made aware of your condition from Yosano-sensei, and that you’re currently in a ‘dormant’ phase. Since we need your illness to be active when administering the medicine to see if it works as it should, we’ll have to wait.”

“I’m sure you won’t have to wait too long then. I’m sure you’ve heard all about how much my body hates me.” Ranpo shrugs.

The doctor grimaces, the one sign that shows he does actually have a heart under all that arrogance. “Yes, I am aware.”

A week passes and nothing happens.

Normally, Ranpo would rejoice at his body cooperating for a week, but he’s here in the hospital, taking up a bed and spending Fukuzawa’s money, and for what? To sit in a bed and do nothing all day? It’s frustrating, and the worst part is that he spends most of the day alone; Fukuzawa’s working during the day, so Ranpo doesn’t get to see him until the afternoon, and the staff assigned to him are busy with other patients, so they don’t have time for him.

He'd sort of been hoping to see Poe, since he’s a student and doesn’t work as much as the other nurses, but he’s been off work, sick, so Ranpo hasn’t seen him. And aside from Fukuzawa, he’s not allowed any other visitors right now, so he’s only been able to keep in touch with Dazai via phone, but even that doesn’t happen much; his friend had simply told him he was busy, and Ranpo hasn’t heard from him since. Which would be concerning, but Nakahara had swung by later that day and assured him that Dazai was fine, and was legitimately busy.

It's been a week, and Ranpo’s bored. He’d tried to convince Yosano to let him take a walk outside, but she’d refused, which Ranpo had found odd because walking around outside would make him more likely to get sick and didn’t they want him to be sick? Not that he’d gotten a chance to ask because Yosano had had to go take care of another patient and promptly left him alone, leaving Ranpo confused and even more bored than before.

“Ranpo-san?” A voice calls from the door, and Ranpo sits up, eyes lighting up as he registers Poe standing in the doorway. He almost doesn’t recognize the nurse at first since he’s not in his scrubs; he’s wearing dress pants and a nice looking, cream sweater, and there’s a mask obscuring the bottom of his face. Poe’s hair is loose too, falling over his eyes and hiding them from view.

“Poe-san! Where’ve you been? And why don’t you have a face?” Ranpo asks, referring to the way that almost none of Poe’s face is actually visible. Yet, somehow, he still looks good.

“Oh, uh—” Poe brushes his hair to the side, revealing one of his eyes, dark circles more prominent than they usually are. “—I couldn’t find any pins to keep it back, sorry. As for where I’ve been, did they not tell you?”

“Yosano-sensei told me you were sick, but you just had a cold didn’t you? They only last, what? A couple of days? Never mind anyway!” Ranpo tilts his head, patting the empty space on the bed in front of him. “Come sit! I’m so bored, no one’s been around to keep me company, and they haven’t let me do anything at all.”

“Actually, I’m here for a reason.” Poe says, coming closer, but not sitting.

Ranpo narrows his eyes and studies Poe from where he stands. The man has his hands behind his back, but from the way his arms keep shifting slightly, Ranpo can tell that Poe’s fidgeting with his hands and trying to hide it. And despite Poe’s hair, and the mask on his face, there’s no hiding the pink tint to his ears that comes when Poe’s trying to lie about something. Or do something he’s not supposed to. That parts a guess though, because Ranpo’s never seen Poe be disobedient about anything before.

But, Poe’s planning something, and Ranpo’s going to figure it out if it’s the last thing he does.

“A reason huh? Would that reason have something to do with the fact that you are dressed like you’re about to go out? And that you’re hiding an extra mask in your pocket?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.” Poe says cryptically, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “They did tell me that nothing gets by you.”

“That’s because everyone thinks they’re smarter than me, which is honestly, their first mistake. I’m sick not stupid.” Ranpo rolls his eyes and climbs off the bed, accepting the mask that Poe holds out to him and dutifully pulling it over his face.

“You know, you’re supposed to get dressed before wearing the mask, Ranpo-san.”

“Maybe that’s a sign you should tell me what’s going on.”

“Patience, Ranpo-san. You’ll see.” Ranpo can’t see the smile on Poe’s face, but he knows it’s there. He can’t help but stare, brain working overtime trying to piece things together. He knows he can figure it out, he just needs some more clues.

Ranpo’s confusion grows as Poe leads him out of the hospital and as much as he’s excited to finally set foot outside, he finds himself hesitating at the entrance of the building. “Uh, Poe-san? Not sure if you realize, but I’m not supposed to be just walking out of here.”

“You have permission for today. We’ll be back by evening.” Poe says. He’d managed to snag a hairclip from one of his fellow nurses on the way out and now his bangs are clipped to the side, revealing both his eyes, and Ranpo finds his heart skipping a beat against his will every time those eyes fall on him.

So, Ranpo focuses on Poe’s words instead of his eyes and a grin grows on his face, stepping out of the building and grabbing onto Poe’s hand, dragging him forward, ignoring the undignified yelp Poe makes. “Well why didn’t you just say we’d be doing something for my birthday? No wonder people were leaving me alone all day.”

Poe groans. “How did you even—”

“Figure it out? Well, for starters, Yosano-sensei’s my doctor and she’s never avoided me when I speak to her, so I knew something was up then. And then Dazai was busy, and I know you don’t know him well, but Dazai would rather be shot in the face than do some actual work.” Ranpo explains, watching Poe’s expression turn from curiosity to awe. “And while my sense of time might be a little skewed, I do still remember what day my birthday is. One thing I don’t know though, is where exactly you are taking me.”

“It is supposed to be a surprise, so you know… I’m not… going to tell you…”

“You don’t sound very confident about that, Poe-san.”

Poe sighs and drops his head. “It is very hard to say no to you, Ranpo-san.”

“Well, you were warned.”

How much further? Ranpo can’t help but think as Poe leads him down yet another street. He’s long since lost track of where exactly they are, content to trust Poe’s judgement, even as the man has his nose buried in his phone looking at directions. It’s a little reassuring to know that Poe’s just as lost as him, even though it’s for a much more valid reason. Ranpo had never seen the point in learning how to get to places, not when he didn’t go anywhere in the first place.

He’d tried to get Poe to talk to him earlier, but the man is so focused on making sure they’re going the right way, that he hadn’t listened to Ranpo at all, so they’re just walking in silence. Not that it’s an awkward silence; it’s actually rather pleasant, and it does give Ranpo the opportunity to look around and observe his surroundings. There are a lot of people walking on the streets, bundled up layers of clothing; winter is on the way and the wind is already cold enough to leave a bone-deep chill in the air. And normally, at this time of year, the blue sky is broken up by gray clouds blocking the sun, and therefore, what little warmth remained in the day. But today, there’s not a cloud in sight, almost as if nature could sense that it was a day that didn’t warrant them.

And while Ranpo was glad to have the sun beating down on him and warming his bones, it didn’t stop the problem that was starting to grow.

He was getting tired.

Being tired was hardly a new sensation to him, and he was well aware that his physical fitness levels were absolute trash—even though it totally wasn’t his fault to begin with—but that didn’t stop him from trying to push his limits. And, well, he’d been pushing them. For a few blocks now.

“Poe-san.” Ranpo wheezes suddenly, reaching out to grab at Poe’s hand, tugging the taller man to a halt. “I need to stop.”

Poe spins around to look at him, eyes widening as he takes in Ranpo’s condition. It’s comical the way that his head jerks around, trying to find somewhere for them to stop and rest, and Ranpo can’t help but chuckle at it. He’s still grateful, though, when Poe leads him to a bench and they sit.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” Poe’s hand is on his back, moving up and down steadily while Ranpo tries to remind his lungs that he does in fact need them to keep functioning.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Ranpo takes a deep breath. And then another. “Just tell me how much further we have to walk.”

“Two more streets. I can call us a taxi though if you need it?” Poe queries gently.

“When I’ve already walked this far? No way. Just give me a moment and we can go.”

It takes ten minutes before they can keep going, and while Ranpo would’ve been happy to sit on the bench for longer, he knew if he didn’t get moving, he wasn’t going to move until forced—and Poe clearly wasn’t going to force him to do that. So, he pushes himself onto aching legs, and begins walking. Poe reacts quickly, overtaking Ranpo until he’s in the lead and two streets pass by in the blink of an eye.

And Ranpo doesn’t tear up when he sees where he’s been taken.

Not at all.

He’s been brought to an arcade, a place he’s always wanted to go to, but never had the chance to actually do so. And now he’s here, standing in front of it. Ranpo can’t help but rub his eyes, thinking momentarily that this is some elaborate dream his subconscious has conjured up, but no, it’s not. He’s really here. “What…?” He’s at a loss for words, and his eyes are wide as he slowly turns to look at Poe.

“I admit, I did not come up with this idea.” Poe says, and doesn’t say anything more, just motioning for Ranpo to enter the building.

“Surprise!” Ranpo jumps as he’s greeted by those he considers his friends and family, the people that have been there for him the most in these past few years. And no, he’s certainly not crying; there’s just dust in his eyes.

Dazai wraps him up in a hug the moment he spots the tears, his voice teasing. “Aww, Ranpo, I didn’t spend all week coming up with this just so you could cry about it. That’s just going to make me think it was a bad idea.”

“Shut up, they’re happy tears.” Ranpo reaches up and flicks Dazai in the forehead, his friend pulling away and acting like he’s just been shot which has the rest of the room rolling their eyes.

Fukuzawa’s next to approach him, and Ranpo readily accepts the hug the man gives him. “Dazai didn’t want you to spend your birthday in the hospital, so he arranged for you to be able to leave and spend the day here.”

Ranpo gives his friend a look. “Ready to admit you actually have a heart underneath all those bandages?”

Dazai gives him a look. “You’re going to have to beat me first.”

“You’re on.”

Aside from Dazai and Fukuzawa, Yosano and Nakahara are also there—they try to say that they only came to keep an eye on the two teens, but Ranpo knows that they came for him—and it doesn’t take long for him and Dazai to rope the two into playing games with them. Supposedly, Nakahara’s the one that introduced the arcade to Dazai in an attempt to give him a healthy coping mechanism, and now Dazai’s introducing it to Ranpo.

He appreciates the sentiment.

He also now understands how Nakahara has the patience to deal with Dazai on a daily basis; the man takes all his aggression out on the poor arcade machines that have done nothing to deserve the wrath of a tiny ginger man whose literal job is being calm.

“One day, Dazai, I swear to fucking God, I am going to figure out how you cheat! Bandaged bastard!” Nakahara curses as he and Yosano lose yet another game to Dazai and Ranpo. The four of them are playing a fighting game that Ranpo’s heard of, but never played in his life—and it shows. After the first two times his character gets obliterated, Ranpo’s content to hang out with Yosano’s character on the edge of the screen and watch Nakahara and Dazai pummel each other.

“Now, now, however could I cheat, Chuuya? It’s a fighting game, it’s all about skill, and my skills are clearly superior to yours.” Dazai retorts, sticking out his tongue.

“Another round!” Nakahara demands.

And rages when he loses again.

Ranpo has fun; letting Dazai drag him around the arcade and playing all kinds of games with his friend. He has no idea how to play half of them, but Dazai takes the time to teach him—poorly he might add—before pitching him up against Yosano most of the time, but also Nakahara, and surprisingly, he manages to convince Poe to play a game or two. They’d tried to convince Fukuzawa to join them, but the man had politely refused, stating he was much happier watching the rest of them have fun.

Then Yosano suggests a dance battle, and the true war begins.

They find the Dance, Dance, Revolution machine on the second floor, and the first round is Ranpo and Poe—Ranpo throws an accusatory look at Dazai for that, who does nothing to hide the fact he’s filming this.

Ranpo has no idea how to dance, and neither does Poe, so the dance battle becomes more about trying not to trip over their own two feet instead of dancing, but despite that, they still enjoy themselves. By the end of the song, Ranpo’s legs are ready to die and he lets himself collapse to the floor, breathing heavy but smiling. Poe falls next to him a few seconds after, looking just as tired as Ranpo feels.

“I do not understand—the appeal in dancing.” Poe wheezes when he finally catches his breath.

“Apparently it’s fun.” Ranpo responds, dragging himself upright so he can watch the next battle—Dazai and Yosano—play out.

“It’s torture.”

“I’m pretty sure dancing has never been used as a torture method before, Poe-san.”

“You don’t know that.” Poe says. Ranpo just laughs, imagining a scenario where prisoners had to dance and keep dancing until they physically couldn’t, and maybe, just maybe, Poe’s onto something.

The second dance battle concludes with Yosano as the victor, and the air turns to ice as the doctor turns a predatory gaze onto Nakahara. “You’re up, Nakahara. Think you got what it takes?”

Nakahara’s eyes narrow and he removes his coat, throwing it on top of Dazai whose joined them on the floor. “Oh, you’re on, Yosano-sensei. You’re not winning this one.”

Yosano does in fact, win, the first round.

But only the first round. After that one loss, Nakahara seems to become possessed by some sort of dance god, and wins, one round after the next.

“Chibi’s a beast.” Dazai mutters under his breath, and Ranpo’s inclined to agree.

“Are you having fun?” Fukuzawa asks Ranpo when the group decides to take a break, retiring to the rest area that Fukuzawa had taken residence in.

Ranpo nods, stretching out to lean across the table. He may be exhausted, but it’s been worth it, to smile and have fun with others. It leaves him wanting to do this again in the future; hoping that he’ll actually be able to do such a thing—and not just visiting the arcade. He’s hoping that a day will come where he’s actually able to travel places and have lots more fun. Hope is all he has at this point, and he’s going to cling to it.

“Here.” Ranpo looks up to see Fukuzawa holding a box towards him, wrapped carefully with a ribbon stuck to it. It takes him a second to realize it’s a present, and he slowly takes it from his guardian. And just as slowly, Ranpo undoes the bow, and carefully tears the wrapping paper to reveal the gift underneath.

It’s a gaming console. The new handheld one that Ranpo had seen advertised.

It’s an expensive gift.

Before Ranpo can say anything, a hand lands on his head, ruffling his hair and he just stares as Fukuzawa smiles at him. “Happy birthday, Ranpo.”

“Thank you.” Ranpo says, eyes tearing up as he places the gift on the table and leans over to give Fukuzawa a hug. His guardian returns the gesture, holding him firmly. “Thank you.”

“My turn!” Dazai practically throws himself into the chair beside Ranpo and produces his own gift; this one crudely wrapped in newspaper, which doesn’t surprise nor bother Ranpo in the slightest. It’s a gift from a boy he’s come to call his best friend. “Open it, open it!”

Ranpo opens it with just as much care as he did Fukuzawa’s. A card slips out—handmade from the looks of it—and Ranpo puts it aside to read later once he’s back in his room. He knows Dazai, and knows whatever is written inside is not meant for anyone else’s eyes but his own. He continues to pull apart the newspaper, layer by layer, and after the seventh layer, he snaps. “How many newspapers did you kill to wrap this?”

Dazai snickers. “Let’s just say the newspaper population is very much under control now.”

“Those poor papers did noth—” Ranpo cuts himself off as Dazai’s gift is revealed. It’s a leatherbound book, that upon opening, reveals it’s actually a photo album. And it’s filled with photos of the past three years of Ranpo’s life. Ranpo flicks through the book, seeing plenty of photos of him and Dazai, but there’s also photos of him and Fukuzawa—his guardian must’ve contributed some of the photos—and somehow Dazai’s even managed to get a photo of him and Poe.

He remembers the day the photo shows; when he was still recovering from his last flare up, Dazai had come around to visit him whilst Poe had been in the middle of reading one of his stories. The photo shows Ranpo resting with his head against Poe’s shoulder, trying to keep his eyes open as he listens, and Poe’s shrunk in on himself so that Ranpo can rest comfortably. It’s a nice photo.

Ranpo sniffs, blinking back the emotions that threaten to make themselves known. “Thank you, Dazai. I appreciate it.”

“I should hope so, it took forever to put together.” Dazai’s cheeks are dusted pink and he looks a tad uncomfortable at being thanked, but he doesn’t reject the thanks—not that Ranpo would let him in the first place. “There’s some empty pages at the back too, so you can add more photos if you’d like.”

“I’m sure with you around, I’ll have plenty to add.”

Ranpo expects that to be the end of it all, but then Nakahara and Yosano pull out a gift for him that they’d pooled their money together to buy for him. Yosano’s portion of the gift is a very, very, soft blanket that Ranpo immediately loves, and Nakahara’s is a little gift basket of sweets from all over the world.

“Only the best for our favorite patient, even if he’s a little shit at times.” Yosano says.

Nakahara doesn’t say anything, but he does knock a fist against Ranpo’s shoulder gently.

Ranpo cries then.

“Happy birthday, Ranpo-san.” Poe says as Ranpo climbs into bed, and he blinks as Poe holds out a carefully wrapped present. It seems that he has one more surprise waiting for him. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected Poe to get him a gift—they haven’t known each other for long, and Poe doesn’t seem like the type of person to just buy a gift for people he doesn’t know. “I-I-I know we haven’t known each other for l-long, but when Dazai-san told us h-his plans, I thought I could do something similar.”

Ranpo’s curious now, and while he wants to just rip away the paper, he forces himself to carefully pull the wrapping apart. It’s only fair, after he’d done the same to everyone else’s gifts.

Inside is a leatherbound book, similar to the one that Dazai had gotten him, but it’s not a photo album. It’s a novel, and it’s handwritten. Ranpo runs a hand down the first page, caressing the book as if it would fall apart if he dared to be any rougher with it. He tries to say something, but his throat closes up and he coughs to clear it. He tries again. “Is this… one of your stories?”

Poe nods, his face slowly turning red. “You-You seemed to enjoy the short stories I wrote, so I thought you mi-might like to read one of my longer ones. It’s a mystery novel I wrote years ago, so I hope, you uh, enjoy it.”

Ranpo continues to stare at the book for a little longer before he realizes he should say something instead of making Poe just stand there looking lost. He closes the book and brings it to his chest, and smiles at Poe. “I will. Thank you, Poe-san.” He gestures for Poe to come closer, and brings the man in for a hug once he’s close enough to do so. Poe stiffens as Ranpo hugs him, but he relaxes after a few seconds, his own arms coming up to return it.

“You’re welcome, Ranpo-san.”

-----

The trial finally begins when the very next day, Ranpo wakes up unable to move. His joints scream at him at the slightest motion, and he tries his best to just lay there and deal with it. The sun isn’t up yet from what he can tell, which means it’s not yet time for morning rounds, so no one will be by for a little while yet. He could reach over and press the button to call for help, but Ranpo would rather wait than risk increasing the pain.

Haruno comes to see him at the start of her shift, and upon seeing the pinched expression on his face, she immediately pages Yosano to his room, who thankfully hasn’t gone home yet after working the night shift. Yosano takes one look at him and summons the foreign doctor Ranpo doesn’t like and the two get down to business.

“When did the pain start?” Yosano asks him, sensing his apprehension to having Fitzgerald in his room and taking charge.

“Couple of hours ago.” Ranpo grits out. He still hasn’t moved from the position he woke up in.

“Any other symptoms?”

“None.” Ranpo spots the look of guilt that flashes across his doctor’s face as she realizes what’s triggered this flare up—like Ranpo had figured out hours ago—and tries his best to smile. He refuses to let Yosano feel bad for giving him a day he’s going to remember until the day he dies. “It’s not your fault.”

“I allowed you to overexert yourself.”

“And I went along with it.” Ranpo argues back. “Besides, I’m fine if I don’t move, so really, this is just a very elaborate game of Statues.”

“We’re not going to stand by and leave you in pain, Edogawa-san.” Fitzgerald says, coming up to stand on his opposite side. Ranpo really hates the feeling that comes from being loomed over by someone so much taller than him, but he really doesn’t have much of a choice right now. “The drug we’re going to be using on you has painkiller properties, so if it does what it’s supposed to, it’ll help.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“We’ve tested how it reacts to the usual painkillers we supply to those who suffer from chronic pain, and there’s been no reaction between the two, so if it doesn’t work, we’ll give you them instead.”

“Would you like me to call Fukuzawa-san?” Yosano asks as they get everything ready.

Ranpo shakes his head. “No. He’s coming by today anyway; he’ll find out then.” Ranpo just wants his guardian to hold onto the memory of him being well enough to play arcade games for just a little while longer.

The drug doesn’t work, and no one is surprised by this outcome in the slightest, but relief still comes for Ranpo when they give him his usual painkillers, and it’s only a few hours before he feels like he can finally risk moving. Even though the pain fades, there’s still a deep aching sensation in his bones, but Ranpo has long since grown accustomed to ignoring it. It’s only if it becomes sharp, shooting pain, that he actually needs to worry.

Once Ranpo is comfortable, Yosano and Fitzgerald leave, already talking medical jargon and what to do next before they’ve even left the room, and Haruno takes a seat in the chair beside his bed, tasked with watching over him just in case he has a reaction to the combination of drugs running through his veins.

Ranpo closes his eyes and sleeps.

When he wakes, it’s to see Haruno replaced by Fukuzawa, his guardian quietly dozing in the chair. It must’ve been a busy day at the café; Ranpo can count the number of times he’s seen Fukuzawa sleep outside of his bed on one hand—nearly two. And it’s always odd when he sees it. Ranpo briefly tosses up between waking Fukuzawa or trying to go back to sleep when his eyes catch on the novel that Poe had given him, and promptly changes his plans. Carefully, he calculates whether or not he’s able to reach the book without having to leave his bed, and thinks he can do it.

Now the hard part; staying quiet.

Ranpo shifts over to the edge of the bed and leans, stretching his arm out as far as he can, ignoring the way it shakes. He wants that book and he is going to get that book, even if he has to fall out of bed to do it. His fingers brush the edge of the book’s spine, and he hooks them into that gap between paper and leather, tugging the book close enough that he can get a hand around it and pull it the rest of the way.

Just as had when Poe had given him the book, Ranpo traces the cover. It’s made from brown leather, and the borders have been embroidered in silver. The book lacks a title, but there are words on the cover, in a language that Ranpo has no clue how to read—it’s English, he knows that, but he’s never learnt how to read the characters or how they’re pronounced.

For Ranpo.

            E. A. Poe.

Ranpo recognizes Poe’s name at the bottom—only because he’s seen Poe write his name in English before—but not the two characters before it. It clicks then that Ranpo only knows Poe as Poe; he doesn’t actually know the man’s full name despite the fact they’ve known each other for a few months now, and makes a promise to correct that when Poe next stops by, whenever that is. Ranpo’s learnt recently that Poe only works part-time so he’s only at the hospital a few days a week; it doesn’t stop him from coming in on his days off and reading to the kids in the paediatric ward.

It also doesn’t stop him from visiting Ranpo.

Ranpo opens the book. The first page is blank so he flips it to the next one and—wow, Ranpo appreciates the gift even more than he already had. Because the entire novel is in English, but Poe’s taken the time and effort to translate the entire story onto the opposite page; Japanese and English, side by side. It’s a beautifully crafted gift, and Ranpo can’t help but stare at Poe’s handwriting, reading the words but not taking any of them in. He’s just too enamoured with the book.

Eventually, Ranpo does begin to read it, reading slow so that he can appreciate Poe’s writing skills; it seemed that Poe was just as good a writer when he was a teen as he is now, and before long, Ranpo feels as if he’s being pulled into the book itself, unable to put the book down or fight a good stopping point. He continues to read, and read, devouring the words with the need to know what happens next as quickly as possible. He wants more. He never wants to stop reading Poe’s stories, never wants the man to stop writing, not if every story he writes is just as good as this one and the others that have come before.

He's a quarter of the way through the book when he hears Fukuzawa stir in the chair, and that’s enough to get him to finally put the book down. He looks around for something to use as a bookmark, but doesn’t see anything and resigns himself to folding the corner of the page down, which he’s been told, is supposedly a bad thing to do.

He can already imagine Poe’s horrified face when he finds out.

“Hello.” Ranpo greets his guardian, patiently waiting as Fukuzawa returns to the land of the living.

Finally. “Hello.” And then. “I heard the trial started this morning.”

Ranpo quickly turns his head away, not wanting to see the expression that’s on Fukuzawa’s face. It’s most likely calm indifference—the way it always is—but he can hear the unasked question underneath his words.

Why wasn’t I called when you were hurting?

“Yeah. But it didn’t work.”

I didn’t want to bother you.

Fukuzawa sighs, leaning back in the chair, his bones popping at the change in position. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Ranpo answers, because he is. He’s still got working painkillers in his body, and the deep ache had eased off once his body seemed to realize that no, it was not going to be trekking across the city again anytime soon, becoming much more bearable. “I’m still sore, but it’s not too bad.”

“I see.” Fukuzawa’s eyes fall on the book that’s still in Ranpo’s hands. “Did one of the nurses give you that?”

“It’s from Poe-san. It was a birthday present. He gave it to me yesterday after the arcade.” Ranpo hands the book over so that Fukuzawa can look at it. “He said it’s a story he wrote years ago. It was in English, but he translated it so I could read it.”

Fukuzawa’s eyes widen as he sees what Ranpo means. “That’s incredibly kind of him. Are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah. I’ll read more tomorrow. How was the café?” Ranpo asks, slipping into the usual routine of questioning that he and Fukuzawa had developed between them.

“Same as always. Atsushi and Kyouka send their well wishes as well.”

Ranpo nods and listens as Fukuzawa continues to quietly talk about everything that happened in the café that day; from new customers that didn’t understand that the café was literally being run by three staff, and therefore, could not cater to their extravagant coffee orders that were more sugar than coffee, to how each of the cats living in the café were doing.

Ranpo has a love-hate relationship with the strays that Fukuzawa had given a home. On one hand, he loves them and the attention they give him. On the other hand, he hates how one scratch—even the tiniest of scratches—is enough to nearly kill him. He’s heard rumours from other cat owners that the aloof creatures often seem like they are plotting their owners’ demise, and he’s starting to believe that they’re true.

Ranpo continues to listen as he’s updated on the two workers that Fukuzawa had been forced to hire when Ranpo had become too ill to help out. Atsushi and Kyouka are nice kids, both younger than him and barely old enough to work in the first place. Ranpo still doesn’t know exactly what it was that led to them getting hired—apparently it had something to do with being given kitten eyes? —but Ranpo was more than grateful for their help, even after everything that’s happened since. Ranpo was mostly glad to see the stress lines begin to fade from Fukuzawa’s face.

It's like that, that he slips back into sleep.

The second trial of the drug yields no other results other than an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach and an intense feeling of nausea that lasts for days.

The third brings about the longest migraine Ranpo’s every experienced.

When the fourth time eventually comes for him, Ranpo’s tired. And rightfully so. With each time that the drug is pushed into his veins, he’s monitored so closely that he’s long forgotten what peace and quiet feels like. All he wants is just a few precious hours of time to himself—mostly so he can breathe—but it doesn’t seem like that’s bound to happen anytime soon.

Especially since, right now, he’s being monitored.

But unlike the other times, this time it’s Poe sitting with him, and Poe’s presence is always welcome. His friend—because after so long in close proximity, Ranpo’s decided that they are indeed, friends now—is more than happy to sit in the chair beside the bed after the usual routine of questions, and scribble away in his notebook, not bothering Ranpo unless it’s him that breaks the silence, and these days; the room is more silent than not.

Ranpo had been attempting to read Poe’s book when Poe had arrived, but ever since he’d woken up that morning, he’d felt chilled, like he was walking through a cloud of fog, so he hadn’t been able to focus for more than a few sentences. He’d felt a little better though, when Poe had caught sight of his book on Ranpo’s lap and blushed.

“Ranpo-san?” Poe’s voice draws him out of his head and back to the present. Poe’s looking at him with concern all over his face.

It takes another minute for Ranpo’s brain to come back online enough for him to respond. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I asked you how the pain is today.”

Ranpo grunts in response. It’s enough of an answer and the only one he’s willing to give right now. He’s tired and sore, he’s allowed to be just a little bit bratty. They should know by now that he’ll tell them if the near-constant pain gets any worse. And it beats repeating the same old words over and over to the same people, over and over.

“Is it still your joints?” Poe asks, fiddling around the equipment that Ranpo is connected to.

“Stomach.” It had been hurting since last night.

“Are you nauseous?”

“A little.” Ranpo answers honestly, because while the nausea was enough that morning for him to turn away his breakfast, it wasn’t bad enough to have anyone concerned—namely the doctors in charge of him. So he hadn’t said anything about it. But he’s been warned several times against downplaying his symptoms, and the discomfort had increased a little since the morning, so for once, he speaks the truth.

Poe lets out a hum, grabbing Ranpo’s chart from where it rests at the end of the bed and reads through it, adding his own notes and observations before returning it to his rightful place. Ranpo relaxes as Poe plonks himself into the chair and stretches his long legs out instead of curling them into his body like he usually does.

Ranpo has made it a little game for himself to try and figure out just how Poe’s body works considering the man is so damn tall, but more than capable of fitting into the smallest of places; namely, the plastic chair that Poe seems more than happy to squeeze into despite it looking extremely uncomfortable. Yes, Ranpo is definitely overthinking it, but it’s a valid concern, a fun little mystery for him to try and decipher.

His train of thought stops, replaced by another mystery he has yet to know the answer to, but can easily gain. He feels the soft leather under his fingertips. “Hey, Poe-san.”

Poe looks up, pen paused where it had been writing, probably in the middle of a sentence. “What is it?”

“What’s your name?”

“My name…?” Poe sounds confused, and Ranpo doesn’t want to repeat his question so he holds up the book and taps where Poe’s embroidered his name into the cover and understanding dawns on his face. “Oh, I thought you knew my name? It’s Edgar Allan Poe.”

Ranpo blinks upon hearing the name, and blinks again, repeating the name in his mind. And again, under his breath. He says it normally and then says it slowly, and it’s as he’s sounding it out that he snorts, but not because he thinks Poe’s name is funny. Edgar suits Poe quite nicely he finds. “Really?”

“Yes…?”

When the confusion persists on Poe’s face, Ranpo decides to take pity on the man. He points at himself. “Edogawa Ranpo.” He then points at Poe. “Edgar Allan Poe.”

It must be the way Ranpo pronounces Poe’s full name that makes it click and the man laughs. “Oh my, that is quite interesting. Who would’ve thought that our names were so similar?”

Ranpo opens his mouth to respond when he’s hit with a worst case of nausea yet, the room spinning slightly as he throws himself upright, one hand coming up to cover his mouth, the other wrapping around his stomach as he hunches over. He must make some kind of noise because Poe’s throwing his notebook to the side one second and shoving a basin under his head the next, a hand coming to rub at his back. Ranpo drops his hands to grasp at the plastic, knuckles turning white from his hard his grip his. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose to try and alleviate the nausea. And after a few minutes, he thinks he’s won, but then his stomach cramps and he’s throwing up.

Amongst half-digested food and stomach bile, there’s blood. A lot of it.

Ranpo stares, heart pounding as he tastes the iron on his tongue and sees red from his peripheral vision. He barely registers the moment Poe invades his personal space, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder as the nurse leans over and slams his hand against the call button before he goes into nurse mode. He can hear Poe talking to him as Ranpo throws up more blood, but is too stunned to respond. This has never happened to him before; he’s never thrown up blood, and he’s scared.

He hears more voices and rapid footsteps entering the room, but he still can’t bring himself to look away from the red in front of him. His hands are shaking now, and he’s pretty sure he’s starting to hyperventilate. There are hands on him now, voices that he hears but doesn’t understand talking at him, and he feels something cold against his bare skin. It’s the cold that jars him from whatever state he’s in and he jerks his head up, eyes meeting those of Yosano’s.

“Breathe, Ranpo.” His doctor commands as she tries to listen to his lungs. Ranpo does his best to obey, managing a couple of proper breaths before his stomach rebels again, body falling limp when he’s done.

He hears shouting, but it’s soon replaced by a ringing sound and Ranpo does nothing to fight against it nor his quickly fading vision.

“You’ll be fine.”

It’s the last thing he hears, whispered directly into his ear, before he knows no more.

One surgery later, Ranpo learns that what caused him to throw up blood was a perforated bowel that was caused by an ulcer that was caused by the medication he’s been taking. Unsurprising, really. Ranpo doesn’t quite take it in when he’s told, trusting Fukuzawa to do that for him and tell him when he’s not high on anaesthetics; he doesn’t know when his guardian arrived, but—Ranpo loses his train of thought, not even sure himself how much time has passed. Ranpo just continues to stare as Yosano talks.

“We caught it early enough that it was only a minor perforation. He’ll be fine, Fukuzawa-san.”

“Will he though?” Fukuzawa sounds upset. And stressed. Ranpo whines when he catches the look; he doesn’t want Fukuzawa to be stressed. He wants to see him smile and be happy. His guardian squeezes the hand he’s holding gently. “You know that Ranpo has a higher infection risk than most. It’s why surgery is always a last resort with him.”

“I know, and know that we’re taking the necessary precautions. We were able to repair the damage with laparoscopic surgery, so he only has small wounds to take care of.” Yosano raises a hand as Fukuzawa goes to say something. “I am aware that with Ranpo, small wounds are just as dangerous as large ones, but they also heal quicker, meaning it’s a lower risk.”

“And the trial?”

“Since the medication is what’s caused his condition, we’ll have to put it on hold temporarily. He’s the third patient in this study to go through this, so it’s most certainly the drug doing this and not his illness. We’ll work out the kinks and try again once he’s recovered and strong enough.”

Ranpo decides that then is a good time to enter the conversation with the question burning at the edge of his mind, and speaks. “S’ther ‘ugs not…” His voice trails off and he giggles.

Yosano just stares at him, trying to decipher whatever it was that had come out of his mouth, although Ranpo’s not sure what’s so hard to understand. He’d spoken clear and concise, like he always did. Like he’d been taught to by his parents.

Fukuzawa comes to Yosano’s rescue when she takes just that little too long. “He’s asking about his other medications.”

“How—no, you know what, don’t answer that.” Yosano sighs, quickly replacing her stunned look with one of professionalism. “Because of the nature of Ranpo’s injury, in order to let it heal properly, we do have to put a halt to his usual meds. It’s not ideal, I know, but we do not want to risk aggravating the injury.”

Ranpo will later come to understand that Yosano’s words are the reason for the coming hell he can barely recall, but for now, he just floats through the clouds in his head, giggling every now and then whilst Yosano and Fukuzawa watch him worriedly.

Ranpo’s body decides that this surgery is to be the catalyst of all catalysts, and throws the worst flare up Ranpo’s ever experienced in his life at him.

Despite everyone’s best efforts, Ranpo’s incision sites become red and inflamed; infection has set in, and with it, comes a raging fever that leaves him weak and breathless. It truly feels as though he’s been doused in alcohol and set on fire, and he’s completely unaware of his surroundings. He thinks he can feel something, or someone, touching him, but he really has no clue. Whatever it is never lasts long anyway. Sometimes, the fever disappears at times, but it is always replaced with chills that leave him wanting the burning heat to return. The chills make him tremble and shake, which sends tiny bolts of agony through his body every time he moves. The fever isn’t much better, making him thrash and toss and turn.

The worst part is the pain.

He can deal with the side of him that’s ill and fighting against the infection, but he can’t deal with the constant—because it’s always present, no matter how delirious Ranpo is—pain. He’s pretty sure he cries, maybe even screams, but there’s no relief and he can’t understand why that is. Every other time he’s been in pain that’s this bad, relief has come for him, painkillers snapping at the source of it until it’s nothing more than a distant memory.

He doesn’t remember being told he can’t take anything right now.

He doesn’t remember why.

Ranpo knows he says things, but he has no idea what he says; it’s like he’s drowning and everyone around him is free of the water, watching as he struggles and flails, trying to get to the surface for the next precious breath of air that’ll keep him alive just that little longer. Later, when the infection has long passed, he’ll ask Fukuzawa about the things he’d said under the influence of the delirium, but he won’t get an answer; only an expression of pure sadness that tells him all he needs to know.

It gets to the point where Ranpo just gives up, let’s his body sink further into the ocean in his mind, but it’s then that a hand breaks through the water and pulls him free, and his eyes blink open, and instead of an ocean, he sees a ceiling. He sees relieved faces all around him before he closes his eyes again, this time slipping into a sleep that will hopefully chase away the exhaustion that’s eating at him.

It doesn’t.

Even though he’s fought off the infection, it quickly becomes the least of his problems. The fever is gone, but it’s been exchanged for nausea now. He’s so nauseous these days that anything he manages to ingest comes right back up before an hour as even passed, and it gets to the point where he just refuses to eat, no matter how much they try to convince him to, all because he’s tired of the pain trying to eat brings him. He loses weight; his clothes becoming baggy and loose as time passes by. Ranpo already didn’t weigh much to begin with, so he’s not surprised when his refusal to eat is met with quick resistance.

Yosano sits on the edge of the bed—Fukuzawa had already tried and failed, so they’d sent her to talk to him—a hand resting on the multitude of blankets that cover his body as he shivers underneath them; the weight loss has caused him to feel cold all the time, at least, he thinks it’s that. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was another elaborate scheme his body was throwing at him to make him even more miserable. He doesn’t know, and he no longer cares. “Ranpo, you need to eat, hon.”

“No.” Ranpo shakes his head. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, and we’re doing what we can to avoid that.”

No, you’re not. Ranpo thinks. If you were, you’d put a stop to it.

Despite him not speaking his thoughts, Yosano is able to understand what he’s thinking and she gives him a sympathetic look. All Ranpo can see however, is pity, and he pulls away to bury his face into the pillow. “Ranpo, you do understand why we can’t give you anything, right?”

Of course he does, he’s not stupid after all. It’s been explained to him several times since he’d woken up, but that doesn’t mean he’s listened. His mind and his body are far louder voices than the ones taking care of him, and it’s just so easy to get lost in his mind instead of paying attention. At least in his mind, he’s able to forget about everything that’s happening right now, yet everyone around him seems determined to keep him tethered to the present.

“You can’t make me eat.” It’s a lie, he knows what’ll happen if he continues to refuse food, but he can at least pretend he has a choice.

“Ranpo—"

“Um, is it a bad time?” Poe’s voice sounds from the doorway, interrupting Yosano’s pleas, and Ranpo peeks up to see his friend standing there holding some kind of beverage, looking nervous about something.

“Yes.” “No.” Ranpo and Yosano say at the same time. Ranpo glares. Yosano sighs.

“Ranpo’s just having some troubles.” Yosano explains. “Is there something you need, Poe?”

Poe shakes his head, brow furrowed in the way it usually is when Poe’s trying to think about what to say without it sounding like he’s overstepping. It’s something the man seems to do unconsciously, and Ranpo’s yet to figure out what causes it. Maybe one day he’ll know. “I, uh, was thinking about the way that Ranpo-san’s unable to eat right now, and I-I might have a s-solution…”

Yosano’s interested now, leaning forward so far, she might as well no longer be sitting on the bed. “What is it?”

“W-Well… sometimes I have days where food is h-hard to stomach and I find that shakes a-and s-smoothies were sometimes acceptable. So, maybe, uh, Ranpo-san could try one?” Poe shakes the drink in his hand slowly, drawing attention to it.

Ranpo looks at it, trying to figure out just what’s in the cup. He can’t smell anything from where he is, so whatever it is, is simple and not overpowering in the slightest. He’s still hesitant, but upon looking at Poe’s hopeful face, he finds is reluctance fading and curiosity taking over. “What is it?” He asks as he sits up, drawing the blankets tighter around himself.

“Fruit—berries mostly, yoghurt, milk. Simple and easy on the stomach—well, unless you can’t handle dairy—while still being somewhat beneficial. If it’s not to your liking that’s fine, I can come up with something else. But if you can keep it down, then maybe… we can do this until you can handle solids again?” Poe explains, crossing the room to hand Ranpo the drink. Ranpo stares at it for a long time, mentally debating whether or not it’s worth the risk of trying it. It’s just as Poe said; it’s simple and easy, and certainly looks like it’d be digestible. It’s just a matter of whether or not Ranpo’s body agrees with that.

The hope in Poe’s eyes grows even more when Ranpo sniffs it, and he smiles when Ranpo has a mouthful. The drink is smooth, as expected, and sweet. Ranpo’s pretty sure that drinks such as these are not supposed to be this sweet, which means that Poe’s taken the time to curate the drink to Ranpo’s tastebuds, and that knowledge chases away the despair that’s long settled within Ranpo’s chest. He takes another mouthful, and then hands the cup back to Poe. Rolling over, he pulls the blankets over his head, cutting himself off from the world. It’s rude, and he should be more appreciative, but he doesn’t care. He has little energy for caring these days.

But he’s grateful when, hours have passed and he realizes that while he’s still nauseous, he didn’t throw up.

Poe looks especially pleased when Ranpo asks for one of those shakes again the next day. Then the next one as well, until slowly, Ranpo stops dropping weight and stabilizes. He doesn’t gain any weight, and probably won’t until he can eat proper meals again, and he still throws up occasionally, but it doesn’t hurt as much when all that comes up is liquid. He can see the relief of everyone’s faces when he moves from one shake a day to two, the nausea fading enough that Ranpo can finally push it to the back of his mind and pretend it doesn’t exist.

He's presented with a small plate of food after some time that’s more like mush than actual food, heart pounding and hand shaking as he slowly eats it, waiting for the moment his body decides to reject it.

It doesn’t, and he feels he can finally relax.

-----

Ranpo wakes with a scream tearing itself from his throat, eyes frantically looking about the pitch-black room, hands clutching the sheets underneath him so tight he’s sure they’ve torn. His chest his heaving and he’s gasping, but he’s losing more air than he’s taking in. A sob escapes him, and it’s that one, lonesome noise that sets off the panic that had been lingering since the nightmare that had awoken him. He cries and sputters, burying his face into his trembling hands as he tries to quiet himself, not wanting anyone to witness this side of him, even though he knows they’ve seen him in much worse states. But it feels a little different, for them to see him crying from something his subconscious has showed him, when usually he’s crying because of something physically affecting him.

He doesn’t usually cry from bad dreams, they don’t usually affect him so, but when the dreams involve his parents, he can’t help but fall apart. Ranpo barely remembers what the nightmare was about this time—it’s not surprising, he’s never really remembered his dreams—but he could easily remember the feelings that had come with it; terror and sadness, along with a smidge of pain. And grief.

Ranpo’s still a mess when he hears the door to his room slide open, but he moves to cover his mouth, muffling his sobs as best he can in hope that the person will leave him alone.

They don’t.

He hears footsteps quickly approach the bed before it dips underneath a weight and seconds later, arms come up and draw him into a hug that’s tight but not too tight. Ranpo doesn’t hesitate to drop his head against the person’s shoulder, and slowly, his hands fall away from his mouth to return the embrace. He clutches at the person’s shirt, recognizing the unique texture of the scrubs under his hands. It wasn’t until a slender hand threaded its way through his hair that he realizes it’s Poe that is holding him. That knowledge alone is enough to ease the panic into something easier to deal with, and he takes his first proper breath of the night.

“Are you alright?” Poe asks when Ranpo’s calm enough that he can.

“Yeah.” He’s lying, and it’s obvious he is, but not even Fukuzawa’s allowed privy to his nightmares; his dreams and the memories they show him, are for his eyes only.

Thankfully, Poe doesn’t push, just hums. “Would you like a story?”

“Yeah.” Ranpo pulls away, just enough so that it gives Poe the space he needs to climb fully onto the bed, being mindful of the equipment still attached to Ranpo, and settling against the pillows. Ranpo drops against him, his arms winding around Poe’s waist, head coming to a rest against his stomach. He feels Poe stiffen underneath him, but he doesn’t tell Ranpo to let go or move, so he stays like that.

Poe begins to speak once Ranpo is comfortable, and it’s then he notices the lack of notebook. Usually, whenever Poe reads one of his stories to him, it’s one that’s already been jotted down in whatever notebook he’s carrying with him at the time. But this time, he isn’t, not that Ranpo’s surprised, not really. The stories in the notebook all come from the same place after all; Poe’s mind. The notebook is just a conduit between the Poe and the story, allowing him to order his thoughts around enough for it to make sense on paper.

Even without the notebook to guide him, the stories Poe tells are his to tell, long-written into his memory, and it’s almost as if the man is able to see his notebook in front of him without it actually being there. Ranpo listens to the way Poe speaks, his friend’s voice just as soothing as it always is; sometimes his words slow as he tries to remember what comes next, but the story never stops. Ranpo lets his eyes drift closed, allowing the words to chase away the last of the nightmare.

The next night, when Ranpo awakes in terror, Poe is already there, on the bed with his legs stretched out, and textbook in his lap. He’s not in scrubs this time, and Ranpo vaguely recalls that Poe had taken the rest of the week off to study, or something like that. As if the textbook didn’t make it obvious.

“Another nightmare?” Poe asks him.

Ranpo nods, rolling to press his face into Poe’s thigh this time. And this time, Poe doesn’t stiffen; it’s Ranpo who’s tense this time, waiting for the inevitable question of what’s terrorizing him in his sleep.

It doesn’t come.

“I don’t have a story this time, but I can tell you about… bioethics?”

“Bioethics? Really?”

“Yeah, I suppose it doesn’t really make for good bedtime reading.” Poe sighs. He looks tired, and Ranpo wonders just how long he’s been sitting here. “I can find something else?”

“Bioethics is fine.”

“Okay, so—” Poe begins, and even though it’s still the same voice talking, the words don’t feel as empowered as they usually do when they are Poe’s own. They feel less… magical and devoid of life. Ranpo finds himself quickly bored of the subject, but it’s something to focus on, and he had agreed to it, so he can’t really complain in the end. But it’s still boring.

He falls asleep listening to Poe talk about moral quandaries.

By the fifth night, Ranpo doesn’t even jerk awake. He just opens his eyes, body locked in fear, and he tears up, not because of the nightmare himself, but he’s just so, so tired of waking up every night with his body on high alert for a threat that doesn’t even exist. It’s this fifth night, that Ranpo is the one that starts off the late-night conversation he and Poe have started engaging in.

“Tomorrow marks three years since my parents passed.” He doesn’t offer more than that, his words enough of an explanation for someone as smart as Poe to connect the dots.

And he does. Connect the dots that is. “How long do the nightmares last when this time of year comes around?” Poe asks, a hand coming to grip Ranpo’s own. Poe’s sitting in the chair beside Ranpo’s bed this time, a different textbook in hand this time.

“A week, sometimes two.”

Poe nods. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’ve been helping.” Ranpo admits, because he has. He feels bad for keeping Poe up at night, knows he’s one of the main reasons for the bags underneath his eyes, but he does appreciate what Poe’s been doing for him, all without him asking too. Everything that Poe has done for him, outside of what’s required of him from his job, has simply been out of the kindness of his heart, and, well, there aren’t many people who just do that.

Poe ducks his head at Ranpo’s words, cheeks turning pink just a little. It’s barely noticeable with the way that Poe’s hair falls across his face, but Ranpo’s spent enough time around him to notice the change. It’s adorable.

“Would you like me to sleep with you?” And now it’s Ranpo’s turn to blush, face turning an impressive shade of red at the words. Poe takes one look at him and turns equally just as red, seemingly realizing what it is he’s just said. “Not like that! I-I mean, you always seem to rest e-easier when I’m—when someone’s sitting on the b-bed with you, so I thought, um, it-it might help you get some rest—”

“Sure.”

“—but I can understand—wait, what?” Poe stops rambling and just stands there, seemingly shocked that Ranpo’s actually agreed.

“I’m not repeating myself. Just… get over here.” Ranpo huffs, shifting over so that there’s space on the bed. Poe hesitates for not even a second before he’s climbing onto the bed. Unlike the first night, where Poe had sat against the pillows, he lays down beside Ranpo, their faces only inches apart as they both try to fit onto the bed that is certainly not made for two people. Poe’s arms end up winding around Ranpo’s waist, and his legs are awkwardly pressed against Ranpo’s own. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it generates a warm feeling that has Ranpo sighing out the stress and fear he’d been harbouring.

He shuffles closer towards Poe as his friend begins to speak, quietly starting a story when Ranpo hadn’t even asked for one. Ranpo tucks his head underneath Poe’s chin, and entangles their legs until they are both comfortable in the bed. Poe responds by loosening his awkward grip so that he’s more draping his arms than embracing, and buries his face into the top of Ranpo’s hair. His words become a little muffled, but Ranpo can still hear them and that, along with the sensation of behind held, quickly sends Ranpo off to sleep.

When Ranpo wakes up in the morning, Poe is gone, and Fitzgerald is striding into his room with the latest version of the drug, deeming Ranpo well enough to continue the trial now, even though Ranpo does not share the sentiment. If anything, he feels as unready as he possibly could be to resume the trial; the side effects of his last flare up still at the forefront of his mind. Ranpo wants to say something—and he really should—but as he stares into Fitzgerald’s determined face as the main claims that this is the one that will actually yield results—like Ranpo’s some kind of animal and not a teenage boy whose done nothing but suffer since the trial began—his words fail him and he just watches as the drug is administered. It’s too late now to say something, so despite how lethargic he feels, he does his best to listen as the doctor warns him of potential side effects.

He just wants it all to stop.

It’s the seventh—or eighth, Ranpo’s lost track at this point—trial when Ranpo wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating and shaking, his body on fire. It hurts so bad, and it takes only a few seconds for Ranpo’s mind to catch up with the signals his body is sending it, and he bursts into tears. This pain is different to that of his usual flare ups, and that leaves Ranpo feeling both frightened and angry. Frightened because he doesn’t know what this is; has never experienced it on this level before, and pain of an unknown origin could mean anything right now, and none of it good. And he’s angry because Fitzgerald is the doctor and should’ve been able to see that Ranpo wasn’t ready for this. That’s his job. But…

He should’ve told Fitzgerald he wasn’t okay before the trial restarted in the first place.

He should’ve said that he wanted to stop, that he was done; tired of going through the same thing over and over with no results.

Mostly, he just wanted it all to end.

He’s alone right now in his room, which is the worst scenario possible, since he can’t move without hurting himself, which means he can’t get someone to come and help him. His leg twitches, and Ranpo can’t help but tense as the feeling of being stabbed over and over washes over him, but the movement reminds him that his phone is where he’d left it before falling asleep; beside his leg. He manages to grab it and with shaky hands, doing his best to ignore how it sends bolts of agony up the limb, and flips it open to press the call button on whoever’s contact is the one he lands on first.

“Hello…?” Dazai’s sleep-filled voice comes through the line after only a few rings, and that’s all it takes to set Ranpo off, and he sobs into the phone.

“Dazai, it hurts. It hurts so bad. There’s no one here and I can’t move, and it hurts. It hurts, I’m tired and sick, and—and, I don’t want to do this anymore—”

“Ranpo—”

He doesn’t give Dazai the chance to interrupt “—I can’t do this anymore. The pain, the nausea, the hospital, I can’t—I can’t. Please, Dazai, make it stop. I want it to stop—”

“Chuuya, get up. We need to go, now.” He hears Dazai say, Nakahara’s sleepy grumbles unintelligible through his own mindless rambling. He can hear things move in the background; the rustling of bedsheets, the sound of two people throwing clothes on in a hurry. Ranpo knows that Dazai and Nakahara are speaking to each other—more like Nakahara trying to figure out what’s going on whilst Dazai tries to both listen to Ranpo as he continues to ramble and to Nakahara as he asks questions.

Ranpo continues to cry and shake, waves of agony flying across his body. It feels like there are nails being dragged across his skin. It feels like he’s been dunked into a bath filled with ice. He can’t do this—not anymore. Just once in his life, he’d like to be given a chance to live instead of whatever bullshit this is. “Dazai, if this is what the rest of my life is going to be like, I don’t want to live anymore. It hurts. Life shouldn’t hurt this much. Why does it hurt so much? Please just let me die—"

“Ranpo, listen to me.” Dazai’s voice is firm as he interrupts, and it’s enough to get Ranpo to focus enough to hear the rest of what he has to say. He can hear frantic sounds in the background as people move about. Car doors slam. “You’ll be okay. Just keeping talking to me, okay? About anything other than the pain. I’m on my way, so just talk to me and try not to focus on the pain. You’ll be okay.”

So, Ranpo speaks through his tears, following Dazai’s request and just talking about whatever comes to mind—he ends up talking about Poe’s latest story that he’d listened to just the other day. He hears Nakahara asking questions in the background every now and then, but still, Ranpo talks. He keeps talking until the next thing he’s aware of is a hand coming to cover his own, gently prying his phone away from his ear. Ranpo opens his eyes, unaware that he’d even closed them in the first place, and the first thing he sees is Dazai’s face right beside his own.

Dazai’s crawled onto the bed to lay beside him, one of his hands clutching Ranpo’s own—holding it loosely—and the other cupping his cheek gently. Ranpo lets out another sob, grateful that his friend is here, that he’d left the comfort of his own bed just to be here. Even through the haze that’s clouding him, Ranpo notices the lack of bandages underneath Dazai’s baggy clothes.

“Shh… breathe, Ranpo.” Dazai says. “Chuuya’s hunting down Yosano-sensei, she’ll be here soon, and then you won’t hurt anymore.”

Ranpo nods. Then flinches when it hurts. He cries more.

Dazai breathes deeply from beside him, silently encouraging Ranpo to follow his cue, and Ranpo tries, he really does, but it’s just so hard when his body jerks because of his sobs and makes him hurt even more. It’s quickly become an endless cycle of distress that shows no signs of stopping.

Hurried footsteps echo down the hall, coming towards his room, and Ranpo is relieved, knowing that help is coming for him.

But the relief is short lived when instead of Yosano, it’s Fitzgerald that enters the room. Ranpo stiffens, and he lets out his loudest cries yet—he doesn’t want this man anywhere near him—and that’s enough to set Dazai on the defensive, his friend pulling away to become a physical barrier between Ranpo and the doctor. Ranpo is so grateful that his friend can read him like a book in moments like these, when he himself is incapable of articulating.

“Who are you?” Fitzgerald questions, eyes narrowed.

“A friend.” Dazai’s voice is ice, cold and unfriendly, a far cry from his usual cheerful and carefree way of speaking. “Where is Yosano-sensei?”

“You are in the way. Leave. My patient is in distress.”

“He’s in distress because of you. I’m not moving unless it’s Yosano-sensei.” Dazai spits back, and Ranpo knows that if he weren’t clutching Dazai’s hand like a lifeline, Dazai would be squaring off against Fitzgerald. He’s almost tempted to let go just to see it happen. A wave of pain reminds him why he hasn’t done that yet, and he whimpers.

Fitzgerald growls. “Move, or else—”

“No.”

“What’s going on here?” Yosano’s voice interrupts as she strides into the room, Nakahara right behind her. She doesn’t even wait for an answer before her eyes scan the room, stopping on Dazai and the way he’s standing protectively in front of him, and then they continue to fall upon his own shaking form. Yosano turns towards Fitzgerald. “Out. I’ll deal with this.”

“It’s not—”

“Do you really want to argue with me?” Yosano doesn’t give her co-worker the chance to respond. She’s furious. “I’ll speak with you afterwards, but first, Ranpo needs tending to.”

Fitzgerald continues to stare down Yosano, who refuses to back down, for several long seconds, before he finally clicks his tongue and leaves the room. With the doctor gone, Ranpo feels himself relax a little, and Dazai returns to laying beside him, a hand returning to wipe away the tears under his eyes.

Yosano says nothing and works around Dazai instead of asking to him to move like she normally would; the only thing she asks of his friend is for him to let go of Ranpo’s hand so she can access his IV.

“What are you giving him?” Dazai asks, not because he’s curious—he probably already knows what’s happening—but because he knows Ranpo needs to know what’s happening to him.

“A sedative to help calm him down, and painkillers to combat the pain.” Yosano explains, and Ranpo feels the always odd sensation of medication being pushed into him. It works fast, and Ranpo is soon relaxing as the pain recedes. “Nakahara’s told me the gist of it, but if you could fill me in on what happened, I’d appreciate it.”

Ranpo falls asleep before he can hear what Dazai says in response.

This time, when Ranpo wakes, he’s not alone, and importantly; there’s a distinct lack of pain. There’s a warm weight pressed against his back; an arm draped over him as whoever is behind him breathes into his hair, still asleep. He’s almost tempted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but then Nakahara walks into his field of view and falls into the chair beside his bed, and he can’t help but tense up, memories from the night prior returning to him in a flash. Dazai must be the one that’s behind him.

“Breathe.” Nakahara is quick to say, realizing that Ranpo’s awake. “You’re alright. Nothing’s happened since Yosano-sensei came and took care of you last night.”

“Why are you here?” Ranpo asks. He knows he could figure it out, but he’d rather be told straight right now, not willing to spend the brainpower required to think right now.

“Because of an idiotic doctor that drove his patient into a breakdown.”

“It wasn’t a break—”

“Edogawa-san, you called Dazai at two in the morning, telling him you’d rather die than keep doing this.” Nakahara doesn’t say the words unkindly, but it doesn’t stop Ranpo from flinching at hearing them. He doesn’t quite remember that part of the phone call. Nakahara sighs, leaning back in the chair. “How are you feeling? Right now, I mean.”

Ranpo takes a moment to think over it. He feels like he’s run a marathon, which isn’t surprising considering the state he was in last night, and his body feels a bit heavy; a side effect of whatever medicine Yosano gave him. Then, he realizes, that it’s not his physical state that Nakahara’s asking after, but his mental one. Nakahara’s a social worker after all; one that works closely with the psychologists and psychiatrists of the hospital, helping to mediate between adults and the children he works with.

“I don’t know.” Ranpo answers eventually. “Tired, I guess?”

“Do you think that’s because of last night, or what’s been going on since the trial restarted?” Nakahara asks.

Ranpo narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t someone from psych be asking me these questions?”

“I’m more than happy to bring someone down if you’d rather speak to them instead.” Nakahara shrugs, unbothered by Ranpo ignoring his initial question. The man seems to have endless patience, and considering his main client is Dazai; he’s not surprised. “You know what my job is; what it is I do, so I’m sure you know what my intentions are.”

“You intend to figure out what it is I actually want, and relay it to Yosano-sensei and Fitzgerald-san, right?”

“That’s right.”

“What if I don’t know?” Ranpo questions quietly, because he truthfully doesn’t know what it is he wants. He was telling the truth in his ramblings to Dazai over the phone; that he wanted to stop doing this, but he also didn’t want to stop, knowing that this trial might one day be the thing that helps him live longer.

Nakahara remains unbothered by his words. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Ranpo and Nakahara talk for a long time, the latter helping him work through his thoughts and feelings and figuring out a plan from whatever it is Ranpo tells him. The questions are hard, and sometimes Ranpo can’t find the answer, but Nakahara is never bothered by that; moving on to the next question whenever Ranpo hesitates too long.

It’s just the two of them now, Dazai having been kicked out of the room once he’d woken up; his friend had kicked up a fuss at that before stealing one of Ranpo’s blankets and leaving the room to go sit in the hall where he hears him start up a conversation with whoever else is waiting outside. Apparently, Nakahara had refused entry to anyone, including Yosano, just so that he could talk privately with Ranpo—even if that talk ended up taking hours.

In the end, Ranpo tells Nakahara everything that he’s been feeling since the trial restarted; from the nightmares he’s been having for the past couple of weeks—he doesn’t say what they’re about—to the way Fitzgerald’s presence has him on edge because of the way the man looks at him. Personally, he thinks that parts a bit pathetic, but Nakahara doesn’t judge him, only nods and waits for him to continue. Ranpo continues to talk about the way he feels drained after every flare up, wondering when it’s all going to end—if it ever ends. It’s after he says that, that Nakahara begins to look concerned.

“Edogawa-san, answer me honestly.” Nakahara says when he’s finished talking. “Do you still wish for your life to end?”

Ranpo looks away, unwilling to answer the question, but knowing it’s one of the few that he won’t be allowed to get away with not answering. Even if he answers ‘no,’ he’ll still be put under a watch because that’s just what the policy of the hospital was, but he’d also be lying if he did say that. “I don’t actively seek to end my life, but if an opportunity came up, I may or may not take it.”

“Okay… you understand that you saying that means—”

“I’ll be put under a watch for the next forty-eight hours to ensure I don’t do anything stupid.” Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Ranpo grins. “I know how it works, Dazai’s told me.”

Nakahara rolls his eyes. “Of course he has. I shouldn’t be surprised that the two of you don’t seem to know how to hold a normal conversation. But yes, you’ll be under watch for a couple of days. After that, we’ll reassess and see how you feel then.”

Ranpo nods, fidgeting with the sheets as he stares at the ground. It’s not something he’s keen on being subjected to, considering he’d mostly said what he’d said last night in the heat of the moment when he was feeling like absolute shit, but he’ll deal with it. Not that he has a choice in this case.

“Now, last question.” Nakahara waits for Ranpo to look back up at him before he continues. “Do you want to continue this trial?”

After talking for so long with the man in front of him, Ranpo feels that he finally understands what it is he wants. And that’s to stop. The trial’s not worth shortening what life he has left to live with the amount of flare ups and issues he’s had since it started, and Nakahara had reassured him that there was no shame in pulling out; that if someday, the drug did work and did end up on the market, he wouldn’t be cut off from it. But the most important part, is that he’s reassured that he won’t be judged for failing to see it through to the end, and that he’s not wasting the hospital’s resources—or the doctor’s time. It happens. Nakahara had said. Plenty of people drop out for various reasons, yours wouldn’t be any less valid.

So, with that on mind, Ranpo shakes his head.

“I want to stop.”

[heartofspells]

Congrats!!! Can we have younger wolfstar please? Like Sirius in second grade frantically searching for a cure for lycanthropy and then realising why he actually cares so much

Thank youuuu! And thank you for this, my lovely. <3

--

James quietly mocks him whenever he finds Sirius' nose shoved deeply inside a book, but even his usual chauvinistic bluntness is quelled with their newly gained knowledge. Their friend is a werewolf, and they don't care, except they do, just not in the way Remus likely expects.

He's cursed, suffering, and Sirius can't shake it from his head. Even once they confront him, once Remus is made aware of their knowledge, once things have mostly calmed again, Remus no longer trying to leave, has stopped swearing to never hurt them no matter what, breathes more easily when faced with their resoluteness in their friendship, Sirius can't let it go.

He watches nearly constantly, more so than he had when he'd still been trying to sort it out, piece the puzzle together, the way Remus limps but carefully hides it away directly after a moon, the growing flush across his cheeks before, notices how pale and sickly he looks for close to a week afterwards. Remus gets cold easily, Sirius realizes quickly after his discovery, like a jolt racing through his entire body, most of his friend's clothing too thin to provide much warmth even with added layers, so Sirius starts pushing his own jumpers and heavier things into Remus' arms every morning, going so far as to wrestle them over his head when the other tries to resist.

When he's not watching, he's in the library, using James' cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section, ordering books through owl post. Sirius takes to reading some of them behind his school texts when Remus pushes them to study, grumbling under his breath but secretly relieved for the excuse. Peter and James help as well between everything else, but they don't devote themselves to finding answers the way Sirius does, eyeing him curiously when they think he can't see or doesn't notice.

And it's not as though Sirius is any different, least of all with Remus, still remaining his cheeky, cocky self. He saunters around the castle the same as he always has since their previous year, flies and plays Quidditch with James, earning himself a place on the team, serves detentions by the armloads. He offers out sly jokes to Remus as they traipse through the corridors, going so far as to suggest a nickname, mouth pulling into a teasing smirk, grey eyes glittering, one brow arching higher on his forehead.

He's no different, but somehow he is, able to feel it during odd moments of the passing days. As he searches tenaciously for a cure, his head still large enough to believe he'll be the one to find what all others have missed so completely, Sirius ponders why it's affecting him so much more than his other two friends. They all care about Remus, all support him just as he supports them, sometimes those lines blurring, Sirius feeling as though Remus gives far more than he ever gets in return. But Sirius becomes softer with his friend after his discovery, once the truth is firmly rooted in his head, his determination to fix it, somehow, overshadowing so many other things that it's astounding to Sirius, knowing he's always been more selfish than is typically advised of most.

Why is Remus any different to him? He's not different, not from how he'd once been, yet he is, though it's not his condition, not the lycanthropy Sirius can't find a solution to help alleviate, no more than it's his upbringing, the curious Muggle bit of information he possesses or who he is as a person. It's also not pity, something Sirius knows as well as he knows his own name.

Instead, he thinks it's maybe the smaller things, and Sirius begins making a list as he continues skimming pages for solutions that don't seem to exist. It's in the way his mouth tilts in certain ways for each of them in turn, special expressions reserved for his friends, but the one he gives Sirius infinitely both softer and brighter as it creeps over his face. Sirius sees it when Remus picks over the corners of pages as he's reading his own books, how he gnaws on the ends of his quills, spitting out feathers in irritation yet never stopping the habit, something so impossibly endearing it causes Sirius' chest to tighten in an odd way. He studies the caution in his friend's hands as he manipulates potions ingredients, the way his stance firms almost imperceptibly in Defense, grip loose but sure around his wand, the flutter of his eyelids when professors offer praise Remus doesn't think he deserves.

It's a curiosity Sirius tries not to focus on as the year swirls itself away around him, but he can't stop himself, eyes finding Remus easily within every room, no matter what. The tugging in his chest becomes more pronounced as time passes, a dull ache joining it when Remus decides to remain on his own or chooses to spend time with someone else, just as heat stirs deep in his belly with every smile or touch or quietly murmured word and breathy laugh bestowed his way. And it's only when Sirius randomly comes across Remus inside the library, seated beside a Ravenclaw in their same year, heads pressed close as they study the same text, jealousy spiking like a raging monster in the pit of himself, that Sirius understands.

Oh.

His breath catches, chest hitching, frozen in place as Remus takes notice of him, head lifting slowly, that same small, curated smile spreading across his features, brown eyes clearly happy to see him.

Oh.

[wavvie]

🔺🥯😞 for nelia and ilanius, obviously, and one other of your choosing !!!

🔺does your oc know how to use any weapons?

Nelia - Nelia depends solely on her magic in lue of a weapon. Her knowledge of weapons is really just "sharp end goes in enemy, don't get hit with enemies sharp end," though I can't blame her. Her unique ability lets her tap into the source of all magic, meaning very strong spells, without paying the price of using such spells. Where others must be granted that access, Nelia gets a free pass to take as she pleases. However, she still has limitations and rules she must follow. She can't just rain fire on a city just because she feels like it.

Ilanius - Ilanius is well versed in weapons. His stepfather raised him pretty much as his son, giving him an extensive education. Ilanius is often duel-wielding short swords but knows how to use various swords, cross-bows, and a bow and arrow. Ilanius also was born with magic, though to no avail has he been able to control it. Many have tried to teach him the art of mastering chaos. So, in theory, he could attempt to use that as a weapon, though his opponent would likely best him while he was casting.

Otho - Otho, much like Nelia, knows what end to stick them with, and that is all. Though he loves to tell people he studied to become a bard at the College of Winter's Edge. Winter's Edge is not a Bard College; it's known for being a school that mainly teaches necromancy, illusion, and transmutation. Though most laugh off his claim, there's more truth in it than many would think.

🥯 what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast?

Nelia - If Nelia is near civilization she'll eat whatever the locals recommend. If she's traveling with someone, they usually will catch and cook something and share it with her under some sort of agreement. If she's traveling alone, she usually fends off hunger with anything she can forage. Hunting with magic makes anything caught pretty much unedible, and she lacks the patience for traps.

Ilanius - Ilanius will eat whatever he can catch if he's in between cities. If he's near civilization, he usually eats poached eggs on some sort of bread and if he can afford it he'll have bacon too.

Narsi - As a Lady in a wealthy family Narsi typically eats honied portage with fresh berries, a small plate of bread with different cheeses, and smoked ham/fish depending on the season.

😞 does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone?

Nelia - Whether intentionally or not, Nelia tends to scare people away. She claims she likes it that way, but girlie lies through her teeth. In minor interactions such with merchants, inn keeps, and barmaids many walk away from the interaction pleasantly surprised she wasn't all as bad as she seemed. Mama didn't raise her to forget her manners.

Ilanius - People flock to Ilanius like a moth to light; he easily earns people's trust. That being said, he'll compliment you to your face only to talk shit about you behind your back, though usually it's well deserved... usually. Ilanius is very charming and easily liked, and that's what makes him so dangerous. I'm not saying he's a bad person, but maybe watch that valuable family heirloom he's nonchalantly eyeing.

Yaenfiera - Once upon a time, Yaen inspired love and respect everywhere she went. Now? One mention of her name and people spit. If she dared show her face? Well, no violence occurs -she was anointed by the divines to speak on their behalf; you can't just go punching holy figures- but horrendous words are thrown her way. I guess that's what happens when you start a war (albeit she didn't draw first blood, but Ivaenia had every legal right to declare war and break the 500-year war treaty, among other treaties), only to bounce when your people need you.

ask me more?

[wacky-nameless-inventor-24]

Chickens Can't Fly

HELLO. SO. I'm here to dump the plot of the 'Chickens Can't Fly' story (or at least what I had so far)!

'Tis an AU where Gyro has wings, and they're like, full on giant white angel feathered kind of wings. They're a physical trait passed down through his family, and his mother had them. However she never told his father, so he f r e a k e d when his son hatched and just like, had wings. She finally had to come clean and Gyro's dad left her. Because of that, and his mother's strong warnings not to show anyone for fear of being captured and tested on and stuff, Gyro has never told anyone about his wings. Not Scrooge, not Boyd, not Della, not Fenton, not anyone. They can like, sink into his back so they're basically not there anymore, so he does that most of the time. However they automatically pop out when he's afraid, as sort of a 'fight or flight' response, so he has to be careful with how afraid he is of things. However, he does have some kind of special... thing... idk yet, built into the back of most of his vests to keep them from coming out in emergencies. But doing that hurts, so he does try to keep his fear under control.

He does have a crush on Fenton, but after what happened with his parents- and really how much that hurt his mom- there is no way he's letting that go anywhere.

He goes on flights at night when he knows he's not going to be spotted, it helps him clear his mind and feel just a little bit free and like his wings aren't a burden. However F.O.W.L. spots him out one night, and uses their new knowledge to blackmail him into building weapons or whatever they want for them. In the end though they decide that he could do better closer under their surveillance, and they kidnap him, along with Gizmoduck who heard the scuffle and came to help him.

While being held captive Heron forces Gyro to show his wings to Fenton (she takes his vest off, and with the amount of stress he's under there's no way he can keep them in without it), and Fenton's honestly just more concerned at how upset Gyro is about that than that Gyro has wings. They're held in a cell together, and Gyro refuses to let Fenton talk about it afterwards, he's barely keeping himself together and talking about that would be too much.

Eventually they do make it out somehow (only a few days later, so it wasn't tooooo long), and Fenton takes Gyro to his house to get cleaned up, and Gyro finally breaks there and explains everything to Fenton. Fenton is the bestest and listens, and says he'll love Gyro no matter what (tiny confession there that Gyro doesn't catch on to at first 👀) and he'll keep his secret.

I'm sure some other stuff happens after that, they probably start dating or something idk, no idea what to do about the threat of F.O.W.L. over them. In the end they do have another big fight against F.O.W.L. (that could possibly tie into the canon finale???), where at one point Gyro is forced to use his wings in front of everyone. I was thinking it could be some kind of dramatic scene where someone's falling and there's no one available to save them so Gyro has to step in and do it... then he spends the rest of the fight like "Y'KNOW WHAT FUCK IT I CAN'T CARE ANYMORE" so he keeps his wings out (possibly dramatically and symbolically throwing his vest away at one point??).

Anyway yeah they win and everyone's fine with it after everything Scrooge has done Gyro having wings is one of the less weird things, so yeah they're all just cool with it and honestly that's their happy ending. Gyro is dating Fenton and he's got Boyd as his son and he's finally able to be free for like the first time in 36 years.

[9800sblog]

Thinking he'll see ghosts if he gets involved in tarot-thats literally me,couple of years ago when I got into spirituality,tarot etc I was so scared watching tarot videos,even sometimes I get scared while watching some particular type of videos,usually the one's with talking to spitit guides or passed on loved ones,I've decided and then undecided to connect directly to my spirit guides,they are allowed to give me message in my dreams or in other non scary ways tho they don't seem to do so much,maybe I can't see it,last year I was trying to astral project for few months cause I noticed I've been doing a lot of the things people tell you to do for astral projection and maybe it was meant to be,after many half attempts,lucid dream nightmares(nightmares are common for me in general yikes) and few almosts I gave up,I thought I could talk directly to my spirit guides there but I just couldn't be nonchalant about oh you might see a shadow figure,you might come across tricksters,for me I need to know everything about something and prepare for it properly,also if you tell me this might or might not happen my brain will cling to it happening so I'm on guard so it's hard for me to take chances with this,even I am spiritual,I have severe anxiety disorder(untreated atm due to things out of my control)and that probably has some hand in this,have you ever felt this way? how do you deal with being scared of things like this?

oh my god when I started getting into these things, I was sooooo scared!! i started doing telepathy communication with my future spouse and sometimes I'd just see or feel the person in my room and I'd FREAK OUT, turn on all the lights, look every corner to see if there's something or someone, then distract myself somehow so I wouldn't think of it while also being vigilant, just in case.

how did it get better? literally just figuring out what's going on and how things work. before being into spirituality, I was super into science, so my spiritual knowledge is intertwined with scientific explanations, makes things less scary. because science explains everyday life in simple ways, spirituality is literally a type of science. I don't like when people explain spirituality in complicated terms or make it feel like magic or something exclusive, spirituality is everyday life and habits. spiritual practices like tarot cards are just supposed to make it easier, it's not a big deal.

I don't personally believe spirits can interact with the physical world, that's why I'm not a fan of talking to spirit guides too often, it can confuse the shit out of you. so that horror movie thing where ghosts pull your feet at night is literally impossible, they can't harm you physically or force you into anything. I think they can bring ideas into your head, but only if you ask and you'll only follow if you're susceptible or agree.

I personally don't like watching general tarot videos and things like that because that type of media usually reaches a bigger audience - it's more difficult to interpret the messages and too many people "popularize" their beliefs for money and attention. I'd say if you don't feel comfortable in a video, just move along, it's not a big deal at all.

I think most of us are chilling when it comes to shadow beings, I like to think of them as black holes - if you came into contact with one, you wouldn't be able to avoid it and it would cause major destruction, but how many stories have you heard of someone dying in a black hole? the other "dark spirits", I think of them as natural disasters like hurricanes, you can easily protect yourself from it, some people are more susceptible to it's consequences, but also most people can and do recuperate from it. and if you're prepared, it's not that big of a deal.

i hope this helps! it's just my personal thing, but figuring out how science explains spiritual beliefs is the best thing for anxious people that are into these things hehe

[a-tale-of-legends]

Thoughts abt the pokemon villains in the Legendverse after their respective

Giovanni and the rest of Team Rocket are either in hiding, or doing their business to a much much much smaller scale. Team Rocket is the only evil team that I can see still living as they are essentially an underground business. Wouldn't be surprised if theirs still some small factions up. Giovanni may be involved in TLH, though I'm not sure if it's the Legendverse version of him or RR version.

Maxie and Archie are barely able to dodge a life sentence, thanks to Steven and Wallace. vouching for them. After some years in jail and parole, and lots of couples therapy, the two both end up settling down together. They are still passionate about the land and sea respectively, but now put their knowledge to good use. May or may not have a bunch of mudkips and may or may not have a kid of their own ( that isn't Jin lol)

Cyrus, from the earlier post, got dragged out of the Distortion World and put into therapy. It took a long while but he's doing much better now. Happier too. He still prefers to keep to himself, so Danica got him a cottage at Lake Verity( Mespirit promised to keep an eye on him). Though, every so often he goes out, visiting Danica and her mom, Cynthia ( they started to rekindle their old friendship) and his grandparents. He's not exactly ready to revisit his home in eterna woods, but he silently hopes he can one day.

I'll be honest. I think Ghetsis is dead in this au. His sickness got the best of him and he passed away. The shadow triad are ultimately aimless right now, though I think Wayne helps them out. Maybe. Colress, as we know, is living his best life. Though he does want to try and reconnect with Eva. He was very fond of her, as a fellow lover of science and machinery. But, given how she doesn't want to see him, he'll just have to wait and see.

Lysandre.....oh Lysandre. The perfectworldshipper in me wants to have to miraculously survive and get lots of therapy and love happily live together with Sycamore. But alas. It cannot be. Given how in my version of events, Lysandre used Yveltal's power, with Xerneas as a potential back up. So basically, he's dead. Sorry Sycamore. ( Though I can see an alt ending with him surviving thanks to the backup Xerneas power. Though I think for now he's dead).

Guzma in this au isn't really a villain. Well, I would argue neither is his canon counterpart. Basically, Guzma is a freedom fighter, and is only seen as a villain due to being the few that actually stands up to the Aether Foundation - the real villains. After everything went down, Guz repurpose Team Skull into helping Alola. He also becomes the uncle to the Alola kids, and rekindles a lost love ( Kukui) and starts a new one ( Burnett)

Lusamine is most likely by herself in either Kanto or Kalos. She is no longer in contact with either her kids or the Aether Foundation. She has a lot of regret,after deeply reflecting on her actions. To her kids and to Alola. I feel she gets better, but is no longer in the picture ( unless I think of something related to TLH). I don't know what this means for Mohn though,but I do think he deserves to remember his past and be caught up to speed on everything. He'll be there for his kids :)

Rose is in jail lmao.

[buddyapologist]

i know hamilton is hashtag problematic but dear theodosia is SUCH A GOOD BRAD AND BUDDY SONG it hurts my fucking heart!!!! i am now going to break it down lyric by lyric bc of hashtag fixation i love them SO MUCH!!!!!!!

starting with buddy as a baby. so a bit different here but i always thought of brad as seeing buddy with lisa's eyes, maybe when he's hallucinating from joy or trauma or close to passing out drunk. her eyes are brown/hazel (sorta OT but i hc buddy as being mixed white and japanese), but sometimes he sees lisa's blue eyes and he's terrified that he'll make the same mistakes his father did or the same mistakes he did as an older brother. last line is self explanatory.

brad and his friends putting time into making their home bigger, getting things to make it easier to take care of a child. probably stealing or scavenging around for things like baby formula, toys, things for her to do since she has to stay inside. brad didn't grow up in a home where he was allowed to have things, so he wants buddy to have everything she can. he loves her. every little thing she does amazes him.

buddy grows up in new olathe, and it's wild, untamed, insane with grief and nihilism and anarchy, the dust is starting to settle and groups are forming, and brad has to deal with raising buddy in a world that he doesn't recognize. they're all learning about it together. and he knows that he would kill anyone as many times as he needs to to keep her safe. he teaches her to fight, teaches her how to kill. he passes his knowledge on to her. he passes his trauma to her, too, he continues the cycle of abuse. but he believes in her. he praises her when her aim is true and she's fast and strong. she impresses him every day. he loves her.

kinda self explanatory, but i fucking LOVE "there is so much more inside me now". brad felt empty, lifeless, worthless, self-hating and guilty for so many years. he finds buddy and suddenly he feels like he has purpose again. this is his second (third, sort of, if you count dustin) chance at being able to take care of someone, and maybe he can do it right this time. he loves her so much and all of these new feelings are so overwhelming. i think one of the reasons why he keeps turning back to drugs and alcohol is because he doesn't know what to do with his feelings, because he doesn't know what love looks like.

brad's father wasn't not around, but he sure wasn't a good fucking father for his kids. brad knows he'll make mistakes. he doesn't fully believe in himself. but he'll do whatever it takes to keep buddy safe. he will kill anyone who comes across her. he will keep her safe no matter the cost. and now, take it further to the events of Painful - as brad crosses the land looking for her, by killing everyone in his path, everyone who could be a threat to her, he believes he's making the world safer for her.

i like to think of this as a fast forward to the end of Painful and into Joyful. in the time buddy's spent outside, things have been brutal. she's been maimed, chased, threatened, probably nearly killed, traumatized not just from her father but from the world around her and all the people who wanted to use her. all the gangs fighting each other, men turning on each other, all bleeding and fighting for her. brad killing most of rando's army for her. the foundation brad laid for her was anger, violence, drug addiction, vengeance, and he's passed that all to her, and she carries it with her into Joyful. she blows them all away, literally, by killing everyone in her path, taking up brad's mantle after he died, finishing what he started.

it's fucking incredible i love it so much i LOVE THEM

[manygalaxiesinone]

U.T.D Joker

((Hee ho dood! Prinnyfrost reporting for duty! Well I guess I'm doing this after all. I know only one person voted in favor of this on the poll I posted a few days ago, but as I said, I do like the idea of it and since it technically won anyway I might as well. Don't worry, I'll get to the other stuff I promised to do from the polls later. Just haven't had that many moments of peace to focus on them lately. So for that one person who wanted to see this, whoever you are, this is for you.

For those unfamiliar, the Ultimate Demon Technique is a powerful fighting style in the Disgaea series that was showcased in Disgaea 5. While I can't recall if Goldion invented it himself, he is the most famous wielder of it at the time due to his overwhelming power and how many moves he created. The moves shown in Disgaea 5 is only a fraction of the skills the UTD actually house, mainly thanks to this guy as well as Zeroken taking the time to expand it in various ways in the future. According to Disgaea RPG, a vast majority of skills in the Disgaea series like Etna's Sexy Beam are birthed from the Ultimate Demon Technique. Not only that, but you don't have to be a demon yourself in order to learn it, though it would be difficult to master it. Killia himself has pointed out that Goldion has had many students over the years aside from him and Zeroken and the fact that he only selects one to pass down his knowledge was a widespread myth. Basically it's like Ultra Instinct from Dragonball. Due to how difficult it is to master it, people believed that only a select few can use it, when it reality anyone can learn it if they work hard enough.

As I've shown in the post for the poll, even Killia believed it's possible for the player character to learn it and the game has confirmed that the player character is a human. So it's not exactly out of the question is someone like Joker from Persona to start learning it. And now all of a sudden, I can’t help but imagine Ryu from Street Fighter learning this. I'd do one for him too if I was more familiar with Strert Fighter. Keep in mind, this is how I personally think Joker will apply these moves though granted I never played Persona 5 Strikers. You're free to come up with your own ideas.

First, I would like to imagine Joker picking up the first 2 skills that Killia and Zeroken use, which are Exploding Tiger and Hellfire Shot. Exploding Tiger is shown as hitting a small group of foes with a swift attack that soon explodes with user's element. For this, I imagine Joker taking out his knife and making a quick dash similar to Killia, but his element will depend on the persona he's wielding at the time like darkness for Arsene, fire for Surt, ice for Jack Frost, wind for pixie, light for angel, ect. And the exploding energy itself can be a more colorful version of the basic elemental spell. As for Hellfire Shot, I can see Joker shooting fire bullets out of his gun as rapidly as he wants into a group of foes and/or fire a charged shot. Instead of Killia and Zeroken, he will have freedom to mix it up a little. The tradeoff for this being he'll still need bullets in order to use it and the charged shot will be as powerful as the amount of ammo he has left, but will completely deplete his ammo once fired.

Next is Avidya Holy Water. This skill can only be mastered when a demon has removed all negative thoughts and feelings from the heart. Not only is this skill a powerful attack in general, but it can also be used to free anyone from brainwashing. Honestly, the fact that you have a persona at all makes you qualified to at least learn this if you think about it. I can imagine Joker being able to use this to get new personas as long as they can actually survive the blast. Of course, it can't work that well on mid-bosses and stuff. And as the name implies, this will be a light based attack.

Then there's the Macrocosm, a move that becomes more powerful depending on the bonds the user has with others. Needless to say this move would get stronger and stronger the more Joker maxed out his confidants, however he doesn't get the skill until the end of the game, meaning this will be a reward for new game+ while making sure they don't start over completely broken from the very beginning. Whether or not you want to classify this as almighty even though it's not a star move is up for debate.

Finally I think it's fair to allow Joker to make up his own original UTD skill. After all, Zeroken made his own skill which is his ultimate move in the game and while Killia wasn't the one to create Macrocosm, he has perfected it. Remember, it was the skill that Goldion himself was unable to fully master as pointed out by Lieze. Killia was able to bring out its full potential thanks to the power of bonds. What comes to my mind is a showtime skill where Joker summons Satanael and has him shoot his sinful shell while Joker uses the Macrocosm. Call it "the Bonds of Hell". What do you think?))

[rayofsunas]

otherworldly! s/o

A/n: happy monday! I woke up at 7am and since then I've been grinding out assignments/classes and now this, so I actually feel productive even though I've been staring at my computer for a while. but thank you for requesting anon! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! <33 also to understand this more, I'd like to point out that this connects to the speculation Genshin and Honkai are alternate universes of one another. so for example, Scaramouche is a harbinger from his time, but he may have been a warlord in a different, with a completely different name (keeping his appearance ofc) hope that makes sense. so if you've paid attention to what I've been saying about Scara and his mini-series, etc. you'll understand what I mean in Scara's lol. his reader insert is fem for the same reason as above btw!

Summary: otherworldly! s/o who arrived as a fallen meteor, that can bring back plants to life/heal deep wounds/scars and resurrect people.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, fluff, alternate realities/time traveler au! (reader is not the traveler), death/resurrection

Word count: 1.7k

Albedo

you don't have a vision like some people in Teyvat, because you're not from there; you're from a whole different world itself. instead, you have healing abilities that allow you to any energy you absorb in the form of food/sunlight, and you can use that energy to heal others. though, the healing can only go as far as healing minor injuries such as shallow cuts, scratches, or smoothing out scars. the same can work if you were to heal yourself.

Albedo is so intrigued when he finds you passed out in the pit of a meteor, half of your body hanging out while the other is awkwardly still in it

one, because who is this stranger in a meteor for crying out loud

and two, he notices your wounds on your arms are healing by themselves, slowly though

as someone who studies alchemy, life forms, and such, he's very intrigued that you're able to heal yourself without medicine, and he wonders if you can do the same to others

so he takes you to his lab, and runs a few tests

yes, you're still passed out when this happens, but he's just so curious and couldn't hold back

don't worry though, he's just drawing some blood and testing to see what you can do, because who knows, you may not even speak his language and won't be able to communicate with him (doesn't make a difference Albedo, you need COnSENT-)

so, just for science, he cuts the palm of his hand a little and decides to see if you can heal him

it doesn't take him long to notice the way the tips of your fingers are glowing a light greenish-yellow, so he immediately assumes that's the source of your powers and places a finger on his palm

it takes a second before anything happens, but eventually his cut starts to slowly close

once again he's even more shocked and intrigued

you have the natural ability and he's never come across someone with so much raw strength being able to do that

so you're right up his alley

when you wake up you're confused as hell (obviously) but thankfully, you can speak his language and are able to share your story

Albedo decides to make a deal with you

he'll help you get home if you can educate him more about your ability and your homeland. you agree

it works out perfectly, because you both have something the other needs/can do for the other (you have your power that he's interested in, and he's found a way for you to return home)

it's also easy to work together because of those same common interests, and it helps that he studies alchemy cause he's way more knowledgeable about you and the process can go a tiny bit quicker for you if you wish to return home sooner

at first you're merely friends, co-workers if you wish

but then he starts falling for you and vice versa

you both genuinely enjoy each others company, so you decide to stay in Teyvat a little while longer, even after he finds a way for you to go home

I wouldn't put it past Albedo to want to return to your world if you allow it

he'd be interested in this new or not so new world ;)

Xiao

you're like the traveler in a sense, where as soon as you climbed out of the meteor, you felt this connection to Teyvat and your vision randomly appeared. you have a dendro vision, something you learned was a rarity within liyue and mondstadt. along with that vision, you had the previous ability to grow/heal plants. you can bring back dead plants, though if they've been dead for a very long time, that's beyond your ability. they also can't be brought back if they've been badly burned.

Xiao may not be interested at first about what vision you have or even where you came from + why the hell you climbed out of a meteor

he's more interested in getting you home so you can stop asking questions about his own abilities/vision and odd, unfamiliar, but beautiful world

but boy when he catches you bringing back a wilted Glaze Lily?!? shook

he secretly thinks you're so cool and it piques his interest

he's never seen anyone do this before, and though his eyes were deceiving him when he first saw the lily spring to life again

but then when he catches you healing more plants, on your way to Liyue to hopefully find Zhongli for answers, he's so interested

he doesn't ask a crapload of questions, BUT he's going to ask at least one or two

"how're you doing that?"

"what are you?

the questions are kind of vague and require more in-depth explanations than he'd originally hoped, but he's surprisingly willing to listen to your story on the way to the harbor

after he learns your story and calls for Zhongli, he'll immediately leave and claim he has no further interests in you

but he's obviously lying

he finds as he's sitting on top of one the smaller mountains one night, looking down at the glowing Liyue town, he has more questions

way more questions

surprising Zhongli, Xiao shows appears when he's showing you around and getting you accustomed to the people/culture

he finds himself hoving behind you, shyly almost, never asking questions (at least not in Zhongli's presence

his reason for standing behind you is to protect you from any harm, so that way, when he decides to ask you more questions, you'll be there for him to do so and not dead or lost

when you tell Zhongli you'd wish to stay in Teyvat, specifically Liyue, Xiao is happy ngl

he can ask you questions and now that you're somewhat used to Liyue, having been here for four months already and planning to stay forever, he can catch you alone and ask questions without Zhongli hovering or acting as your tour guide lol

slowly, and I mean sluggishly slow, he's going to ask you more questions and he may, emphasis on may, tell you his own story

Scaramouche

you're from an alternate reality of Teyvat, a former doctor in your world. basically, Teyvat hundreds of years in the future. you've studied the human body to become a doctor obviously and you used to be able to bring back the dead using your bare hands. it didn't matter how far back ago they've died, as long as their full-body was still intact (full skeleton needed). though, the further back they died, the more energy you'd use, and if you run out of energy too soon, you couldn't bring them back. but now in this strange land, you can't. in exchange for your powers being lost, you're given an electro vision.

Scaramouche is tasked with finding out more about these odd meteors that keep appearing in various corners of Teyvat

and one very large one

he doesn't care who you are, what you are, what your excuse for being in Teyvat is, but he's been ordered to explore the fallen meteor and since you happened to be passed out inside it upon further exploration, you're part of the mystery he's been told to check out

and, it doesn't further help your situation that you landed in Snezhnaya, in the weirdest, not-so-warm clothing AND he finds you attractive (yes, you heard it here folks), plus you're going to catch hypothermia out here dressed like that

it would suck for a pretty girl such as yourself to be frozen to death

so Scaramouche decides to take you to the Tsaritsa, who leaves you in Scaramouche's care since he found you

she says he can do whatever he wants you, dispose of you, etc.

when you finally come too in an odd room on a couch in front of a fireplace, you're confused, cold as hell despite the flames, and when you see his face, you're immediately angered, which he finds odd

it's almost as if you recognize him... but he doesn't recognize you so he's confused as well

"what're you doing here?"

bold of you, he thinks. to question him with that tone as if you have authority here, over him

"watch yourself. I was going to ask you the same."

you don't seem too pleased with him though

"we agreed to never speak again, or so I thought..."

"are you stupid or are you just playing the stupid card to be released?" he'd say

though as soon as you burst and yell at him about a situation he's not familiar with, he's starting to understand a bit more

you're not from here, not anywhere in Teyvat at least, and by the way you're talking to him as if you know him, he assumed correctly that you're from an alternate reality, where he's also present

though despite his correct assumption, he demands answers and you cannot be allowed any kind of freedom until he gets them

you tell him your story and how in your world, a version of himself exists and that you were briefly married, though split because he was too much of a control/power freak for you and your daughter

he disagrees with the last part about him being a control/power freak ofc but

he decides he'll keep you around, against your wishes

one, because you can become useful if your resurrection abilities are awoken; you'd be able to save many fallen Fatui soldiers, with more training so you don't run out of energy ofc

and two, he doesn't think his other self would miss you very much if you're both on bad terms, he sure would miss such a pretty face if you were to leave though, that's for sure...

so, he's going to keep you around, so he can help train/get used to your electro vision. it works best that way since he has the same vision and can train you more efficiently (I think Scara has electro powers, just an assumption!)

he will also hopefully be able to awaken your resurrection abilities and if you can't, well then sorry you're disposable

overtime, all the Harbingers tease him about his little crush and he either denies it or strongly provokes it cause his ego is through his fucking hat

exhibit a. literally doesn't care that he's caught by childe staring at you train and will say something like, "and? you're just jealous she's not interested in you like she is me."

exhibit b. will throw a fit if someone accuses him and says he has, "no room for crushes or love." even if he was somewhat capable of it in your world...

3.22.21, rayofsunas

[jeanette-luminia]

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞—𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵

Summary: Two years. two years of wait, he promised after those two years, he'll come back to you.

Song Recommendation: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, FLUFF!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warning: feeling of loneliness, crying. (tell me if i miss somethings.)

A/N: FINALLY! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED BUT HOLY SHIT I DID IT! After a month or two I finally finished the mini series, omg it took longer than expected, BUT IT'S DONE! I'm glad some of you stick into this series start till end, I'm really happy how it turned out, and I hope you like it too!

Tales of Time Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

Time was irrelevant, for the most part, it just passed without our knowledge, or does it ever exist? For the most part, people don't tend to realize how the time moves fast, or slow—they’d just go with their day, and never realize how fast or slow the day will pass. Maybe people are ignorant, they let the day pass, maybe even waiting for their inevitable death.

For others, time is fast—but to you, it was slow, it felt like the world was making it slow for you. You have tried to pass the time with every power you can, but it’s not long enough to pass two years, not now at least.

The bookstore became dull, of course there’s still people visiting, but without Bucky coming over once or twice a week, it felt dull—it was one of the things you wait for the weeks on end, he was the only thing you were looking forward to every week. Without him, you have no one to tell you to recommend the book they think will enjoy, no one will laugh at your crappy jokes, no one will be able to taste your freshly baked cookies straight out of the oven, without him—you feel empty inside.

You thought you wouldn’t feel this way again, it was too soon, he left too soon. God, you wished you'd met him sooner, then maybe you would have told your feelings right about now, then again—you knew the world can be unfair.

You hold his dog tag close to your chest as you look up at the starry night, reminiscing the memories you’ve spent with him.

You walked around the afternoon, feeling the cold breeze of fall as leaves flew with the gush of the wind. Your eyes wander around the small park in brooklyn as you sit at one of the benches, the tree branches softly clash together whilst the light reflects the water.

It’s been 4 months since he left, you learned to cope, but only for a mean time. You learned to cope with the loneliness, whenever you’re in the Bookstore, or at your apartment—but it's never ever lasting, though you wish it was.

Leaving is one of the things that people have a hard time moving on, maybe because of the attachment, then suddenly leaving—or because you love them. You are no new to the pain of someone leaving your life, the heartbreak you felt, it aches—the tears you’ve shed for them, pleading not to leave.

You were no stranger to those kinds of things, I’m used to it, you thought to yourself before. You just want to close your eyes, fall asleep for how long he will return.

“You seem lonely.” a familiar voice echoed through your ear, you slowly opened your eyes when you were met with a familiar pair of blue eyes staring at you, you chuckled as you pat the vacant seat beside you.

“And you, Mr. Rogers, seemed lonely as well.” he sat down beside you and leaned back, you could see his shoulder slowly drop, “So I guess we're both lonely then.”

“I guess so.” He grinned as he finally let himself relax. “Stressed?” you asked, “Maybe so, Just been missing someone.” he replied as he looked up to the clouds. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him, ever since the war, he thought he lost his best friend, then he found out that he’s being tortured by HYDRA and forced him to be a killer he didn’t deserve, then he left again, came back, then left again—but deep down, you knew he understands why he left this time.

“You know, you’ve always put on a brave face.” you paused, turning your head up to the sky. “You’ve always taken care of everyone whenever they need it.” you smiled. “You even take care of me.”

You kept your head high, in the corner of your eye, you saw Steve turn his head towards yours, with a small frown on his face. “What are you saying…”

“What I'm saying is that you don’t have to be strong all the time.” you looked him straight into his eyes, his eyes reminded you of Bucky, maybe it’s because of the colour, or because of the desire to be the reliable one, the one who tries to help or fix what’s broken—the desire to be the strong one.

“Like what I said to him…”

Bucky puts his free hand in his face, eventually pinching his nose bridge, he wasn’t angry per say—he’s having a hard time getting used to showing his vulnerability. It’s not everyday someone accepts you for who you are even if you’re vulnerable.

The sound of the tea cup meeting the hard wood table clunked, he removed his hand as he stared at the tea you made. “I made ginger tea, hope you don’t mind.”

“Thank you.”

He falls in a comfortable silence with you, most of the time, this is how you two spend your free time. “You don’t have to hide being vulnerable, you know.” you suddenly broke the silence.

“I’ll create a problem.”

“I don’t think it will—you’ll create a problem that wasn’t there in the first place.” you smiled softly as he heard the soft sip of you take.

Bucky just stares at you, he wonders what’s the limit of your empath, or what happens when you’ve reached the limit, you read a person like a book, and you treat people with such delicacy. You sip your tea one more time, looking up to see the sunset, with the sunlight touching your skin, you look ethereal.

“There is strength in vulnerability. The ego has to break, and pride has to slip away so that love would seep in… To be vulnerable is to be brave.”

Steve let your words sink in, he felt like it’s been forever since he’s been comforted, usually it’s him who is the one comforting, it never occured to me that he needed that. You checked your watch on your wrist, standing up and giving a small stretch.

“I’ll see you around, Steve.” you simply pat his shoulder gently and went on your way whilst you felt another breeze of the fall season upon you, winter is near.

Steve sat there, frozen. The realization hit him like a truck, it made him smile. “Now I know why you were drawn to her, you punk.”

You groan in frustration as you put your head on the cemented kitchen counter with a laptop in front of you, “What’s wrong?” Wanda asked as she lowered the heat from what she was cooking. “Just stuck on a chapter.” you grumbled whilst sitting up from your previous position.

She perked up by your response as she turned around to face you. “Can I read it—”

“No.” You cut her off before finishing the sentence as she huffed in response, you smiled looking at Wanda, you closed your laptop down and put it on your bag, knowing you wouldn’t have any progress today.

“That's the third time you’ve said no.” she exclaimed.

“And that’s the third time you asked.” you retorted as you gave her a smug smile and rested your face on your palm. “Come on! I’ve been waiting for 6 months now.” a small pout formed on her face, you giggled at how childish her antics were.

“You can read it when I'm done—check your cooking.” “Oh right.” She stood up and took the ladle and stirred.

It wasn’t new they started inviting you in the compound, it was mainly Steve’s idea, but they all collectively agreed. You were the first person to make him smile and turn into a teenage boy in high school crushing over someone, they also give you updates on how Bucky is.

It has been 11 months since he left, soon, it’ll be a year away from him. It's crazy how you coped for 11 dreadful months without him. There were many ups and downs, many sleepless nights alone with your thoughts—pondering about your choices in life, and occasionally missing him.

You walk around the snowy sidewalk, trying not to slip. The peace fills your mind as very few people or cars pass by you, readjusting your scarf whilst a thick layer of jacket warms you. At one point, it started snowing, you stopped walking and admired the sky.

You admire the snow suddenly just appearing above you , occasionally landing on your face as you let it melt. Overtime, you learnt to take advantage of the time you’re alone—almost as if it was your last day.

It has been approximately 11 months since he left. The constant feeling of being alone was somewhat comforting in its own way, it made itself a temporary comfort whenever you felt the void seeping inside. A month after that talk with Steve in the park, you’ve been reminiscing about everything, everything that led to this.

You couldn’t put those experiences in any form of art other than words, literature—so without a thought, you wanted to write it. It was a silly idea, essentially writing a part of your life, something you’ve never thought off. Though you’ve always wanted to write your own, you never thought the first thing you’ll write is a part of your life.

You opened your eyes all of the sudden, a grin formed in your lips as you couldn’t wait to go home, you sprinted trying not to slip from the ice. All you needed was a sense of peace, peace to think, finally entering your apartment, you abruptly pulled out your laptop and opened it to your docs as you started writing.

You typed and typed until you passed out on the couch from exhaustion. Even in your sleep, you have a faint smile on your face as the last paragraph you typed was…

Under the fall season, she took the leaf from his hand, brushing her soft fingers against his. She felt the confidence to kiss him, at least in the cheeks, she thought. He watches her get closer and closer until her lips feel his cheeks. As if time paused, she felt like there was no one else on earth when she heard his voice with a charming smile plastered on his face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Come over.” Natasha said on the other line, you switched your phone to your right hand and tucked your left hand on the pocket of your trench coat, “Yeah! Come on, you've worked on this for more than a year, we’ll celebrate.” Sam cheerfully butted in.

For a year and a month, you’ve put your time and effort into making your book, whenever you have nothing to do in the bookstore, you write. In the compound? Write and talk to the others. In your apartment? Write.

“Alright, I’ll come.” when you heard a ‘yes’ from the voice of wanda, you giggled. You haven’t been on the compound for at least almost a month, usually they invite you at least twice or thrice a week, you’ve wondered why they haven’t been inviting you, you’ve grown fond with their company—then again they were the earth's mightiest heroes, you can’t expect them to be there with you.

“Be there at…” you looked at your wrist watch, 4:51 PM. “five or something.” she laughed at your unsureness as you let out a chuckle. “Be sure to be here okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” with that, you hang up the phone.

Walking around the spring season as new flower blooms and trees began to thrive again, you began to inhale the sweet aroma of fresh bread from the local bakery, and the fresh brewed coffee filled your lungs. You smile at children playing with their families and occasionally you’ll see some old couples taking their afternoon walk.

Feeling the spring breeze as you drove around to the compound, you collectively decided to get a car after the running incident last two years, you chuckled as the memories started to make their way back to your core memories. Remembering it was a bittersweet feeling inside.

It has been two years and a month since he left, two years of waiting yet he hasn't come back, worst case scenario—he doesn’t remember you. But he promised he’d come back, and swore that he'd come back. You've been hangin on his words for a month, but you can't expect that he’ll come back right after the two year mark hits, after all, he needs to recover after being on ice.

You exited your car as you double checked if it was locked. Whilst you enter, you notice how dark it is, looking at your wrist watch it was only 5:48 PM and the sun was setting fast, you wonder where they are. “Hello?” you called out but only heard the echoes of your own voice, the atmosphere was eire and somehow tense.

You were worried something happened to them or they left for an emergency mission and didn’t have the time to tell you. “Guys?” you called out again only to hear the echoes of your voice. You cautiously walked towards the main room frantically looking everywhere for them. Just as you were about to call one of the members, you saw a figure in front of you, assuming it was a man.

He looks broody, and muscular, he was facing the other way, hence why you can’t identify him, but he looks familiar. The broad back, and the muscular shoulder, he gives an intimidating aura yet something sweet—almost as if it's bittersweet. You stepped forward, swallowing nervously, but before you took another step, the man perked up, glancing on his shoulders before turning his head towards yours.

You felt a huge lump on your throat, you felt like you couldn't breathe, it was hard to believe—you could feel yourself trembling, he turned around, facing you. You felt the corner of your eyes well up with tears, God—you missed him, you missed his warm embrace, his hugs, the way he smiles at you, the way he laughs at your stupid jokes, the one who tries out your freshly baked cookies straight out of the oven—you missed him, so much you didn’t know you can miss someone like this.

“Hi.” He took the step forward slowly as he slightly brought his arms up. He looks different, at least from the last time you saw him. He once had long hair that you like to play with so much, now trimmed and well kept, he looks more healthy than he was two years ago—he looked more beautiful than ever.

“Bucky?” You weren’t sure if he heard, considering it was barely a whisper, but the way we lit up, you were sure he heard you. You try to reach for him as you gradually try to move, but somehow your feet are stuck.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He calls you in such gentleness. Finally, you lifted your foot forward, slowly growing close, you felt like the distance was far, like he was a mile away but in reality, it was only steps away from him.

You sprinted forward, you wanted to feel him, hold him, love him. You’ve been missing him for two whole years. Your body collided into his, you tighten the grip from his jacket, not wanting to let go, you didn’t want to let go anymore.

He wrapped his arms on your body, casually patting your head. “I’m here.” he whispered. “I’m here.”

“I–” you sniffled, you didn’t realize you were crying the whole time, everything was suddenly overwhelming, but he was here, with you. He kept his promise, he came back.

“Don’t leave me again…” you plead, taking a sharp inhale. “I-I was so lonely without you, I-” you stuttered crying to compose yourself, all of those two years of emotions inside, the ones you never knew how vulnerable you were the past two years.

“Breathe–”

“I love you I just— I can’t take it, I miss you so much.” You pulled away, not wanting to wet his shirt, whilst you tried to pick yourself up and wipe the tears from your cheeks you felt a hand under your chin making you look into his steel blue eyes.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He gently caresses your cheeks and wiping the tears that are falling from your eyes, he kisses your wet cheeks as you let out a breath chuckle. “You really love me?” He questioned, you can feel himself questioning himself, was it because he made to wait for two years? Because he left you?

“I could leave you again or even hurt you-” He felt a thumb on his bottom lip, telling him to stop, stop talking and stop overthinking.

“Buck, I love you so much. And it doesn’t matter if our world matches or if it’s in a different hue, because our world will collide together, and it'll be the most beautiful thing I will ever see. I could look at you for a single minute, and find a thousand things that I love about you—you are the person I will never stop looking for in a crowded place. And even if it hurts, or how lonely it feels—even in a million years, I'd wait for you.”

He let out a breathy laugh as you followed, Bucky held your hands whilst you intertwined your hands into his, you stayed in silence for a moment with your forehead touched. “I kept your dog tag.”

He pulled away slightly and saw you smiling at him. “You did?”

“I did.”

He felt a sudden warmth inside of him, just the thought of you keeping the one thing he owns. “Do you want it back–”

“Keep it.” He cuts you off, you tried to look for some signs of him wanting it back, but he only shows that he wants you to keep it, so you didn’t argue back.

“I may not know how to love you like you want to.” he began to talk, you feel the heaviness in his voice. “Buck–” He put his finger on top of your lips, gesturing you to listen to him, you nodded.

“And I may not give you what you deserve, but…” he took a deep breath and look into your eyes and said; “From the bottom of my heart, I love you so much, I wanna treat you like you are the queen because you are to me, you are the one I want, and I may not show it to you right now, but soon—I will.”

He wiped the small strand of tears falling from your eyes. “Soon.” You hugged him again, but this time, it was love, happiness, and warmth.

“I finally realize why your voice is pleasing to me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it's you.” as cheesy as it sounds, he fell harder for you when he heard your laugh, that genuine laugh he missed.

“Now, I owe someone a dance, right?”

© 𝐋𝐔𝐕-𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐃 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate. please ask me first then credit me once you shared my work to other platforms.

[fallenrepublick]

Hey, I know you currently mostly think about Krennic but i have this question i have been thinking for last two months.

Let say that after we save Sunder/Riot/Brutus we live our best lives and nothing destroys it. Years passes and at one poin, after looking in the mirror they realize ... that they are getting old.

I don't really remember if in your headcanons some nightbrothers lived to their elderly days and the boys saw them. But if they did then let's just say they were still rare and the ones who lived were only shells of what they supposed to be.

So, what would their reaction be when they finally realise they not only lived long enough to experience it but they also see how a healthy nightbrother would look if they were able to live a good life.

Would they be happy? Scared, becuse as they get older they get weaker? Or just fascinted and gratefull for the life they are able to live now.

If you find this ask too weird or just don't have any thoughts about it you can just skip it.

AKSGDH MOSTLY THINK ABOUT KRENNIC NO 😭😭😭😭

But this... intrigues me...

There are zabraks that age, as we saw with Viscus, yet it's a rarity. There were a few around the time the boys were growing up, mostly left over men that were never chosen as mates, now left behind to train the young boys that newly entered the village.

But the way each of them react to the aging is... varied.

Sunder's shock comes the strongest. It's not a fearful shock, but rather one of pleasant, unexpectd surprise. He hadn't noticed it before, but... he really is aging. Where once there was relatively smooth skin, there are smile lines, crows feet at the corners of his eyes. He touches each line lightly as he stares in the mirror, as if being too harsh might wipe away the reality of it all.

So few zabraks were given this opportunity, to grow old, to see themselves age and show proof of their long lives, and none were allowed to do what he had, to grow old at the side of someone they loved. He sees the age lines as scars in their own right, proof and knowledge displayed clearly on his skin of the life he's lived. And there's more difference yet between him and th elders he's met. Their lines were hollow, heavy on their face as if their bodies ached for the ground itself, a loss of hope that something would change over the years. But his lines are bright, lively. They decorate his face gladly, creating halos and highlights around his face, in the places you've always seen his smile shine through the most. For him, it's not something to fear, but to celebrate.

But Riot's fear comes the moment the lines start to show. He's aging. His use is depleting, his attractiveness, his worth. Already, he's on thin ice. He was never all that attractive to begin with, but these lines, the wrinkles marring his skin will only destroy the slight appeal he had to begin with. If you see them? What will you think? Will you finally realize the truth, that he isn't worth any more of your time? He could never blame you for that, after all. Even he knows that it's as much a reason as any to be rid of him finally.

You've only grown more beautiful with time. But him? No... no he's old, old and useless. He doesn't see where the lines are placed, that they tell a story, hold every smile he's given you, every joke he's made and laughed at by your side. He only sees his value, what he can no longer offer you. By now, you've promised him that he can tell you anything, that he shouldn't have to hide his fears from you. But this? How can he admit to this fear? The one, single thing that you could do that would break him, that he thought would never come to haunt him again, finally returning at the prospect of him losing what good he is for you. This... this he'll handle on his own... until the day comes where you make that decision.

And Brutus? He stops. Dead in his tracks. For a moment, he doesn't see himself. The age, the years he's spent with you, they add up, showing clearly on his face, reflecting not him, but the face of his father, who he'd always been told he looked so much like. He sees the years his father never had, what he might have looked like had he been allowed to raise Brutus. Already, he's far past the age that his father was, given the opportunity of a happy life that still seems to be nowhere near its end.

It was never supposed to be this way. Out of the three of them, he was always the one that was meant to go first, the one that would've died in combat in the place of his friends. He was meant to protect them, to ensure their survival by giving up his own. Yet here he stands, in a house he shares with you, someone he loves more than anything in the galaxy, not even a hint of danger in sight. Is it... right? Should he not have followed through with it, gotten rid of himself early on and fulfilled his role? What right does he have to survive this long, to be here in comfort while those that came before him suffered so much and were all subject to the same fate?

He thinks of you, of the way you begged him to follow you, to leave Dathomir in search of something better. You wanted so much for him, to save him, to protect the protector. He did it for you... It might not be right... but as he thinks of his father, he wonders if this is exactly where he would have wanted his son to be.

[leggyre]

this was gonna be just stuff about nik bc i wanna ramble about him but i figured i should probably elaborate on the Buniverse™ worldbuilding aka "why being able to use magic in a world where magic is accessible is actually an impressive feat" so here goes the discord screenshots, followed by me rambling about nik

(its a lot of text)

-he looks a bit distant and unfocused all the time but hes actually extremely observant and always taking mental notes on pretty much everything going on around him -which is somewhat how he created his own Magic Method®. Nik is one of the very few(im talking single digits) beople who can not only use magic efficiently, but also understand how it works. -he is kinda lucky to be the heir to, like, a lot of knowledge gathered by his ancestors, passed on by his grandparents(who still give him aid whenever they can; theyre really cool old beople. grandpa crafted his wand! grandma is always delivering goods he requests at times, along with a few grandmother-brand gifts. both are always helping keep his controversial identity a secret) -he's always been a big loner, but not by preference; his social skills are horrible. he's a bit self-conscious about the fact his only quality is "being smart", even though he excels beyond expectation at that one quality. all the beople he's ever been close with(aside from family) only approached him because they wanted help with homework and such, and he ended up spending his formative years making himself more helpful on that regard because he just........ really likes helping beople. it was only years later that he realized he'd never formed any meaningful bonds -which brings me to.......................... nik is kind. very, very kind. he'll spend a whole week feeling bad about causing someone a minor inconvenience. he handles this by... simply not thinking about it. he doesn't look much into the controversial figure he is, he knows even a little bit of critique would make his heart sink; it would lead up to a lot of stress caused by him trying to appease everyone, and that's very much an impossible thing to do. he's mostly convinced himself he's doing the greater good, which will benefit everyone in the long run. the world is black and white, and so are his actions. -that attitude overall is kind of what started his relationship with dart. kind-of-enemies to lovers kinda stuff because in one of the rare instances nik is forced to look back, he ends up backpedaling really hard and uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh yeah

thanks for coming to my nik talk :-)

--

anyway this one is not just about nik but its funny so here

[lovevejoy]

Talon Theories | 🎆

Hey! So I was scrolling through the comments on the new origin story video— which was amazing and I'm so freaking excited for more Talon and Overwatch lore— and I saw some pretty interesting ideas and suggestions! So I thought I'd show the comments and give some commentary, and at the end of this post I'm going to add some speculations on the current status of all the Talon members!

Alright, first some hidden details in the video!

This was pretty cool, I relistened and definitely heard Widow's gun going off. This leads into some other theories I'll show in a minute!

I didn't actually do this, but a lot of other comments were confirming this fact. I think that's a pretty awesome small detail!

So that's all I noticed from the comments as small details, but here are some interesting theories I'd like to mention:

The idea of Sigma having multiple personalities is interesting. I personally think that Talon grabbed him from where he was being held and Talon took advantage of his moments of weakness from his discoveries and experience in the black hole, effectively manipulating him. But maybe he isn't being as affected by Talon and instead the aggressive side of his personalities is trying to gain more control after everything he went through and being "rescued" by Talon? It's something to consider, and it'd be an interesting plot!

This is probably my favorite one. I love the idea of him being stuck in a state similar to Tracer's, but he has completely solid forms all doing things at once. The theory would play out like this:

His suit is similar to Tracer's chronal accelerator, he wears it when goes out for missions and it keeps his conciseness stabilized in one body so he can focus. However, when he takes it off, he is suddenly trying to live in all of his presences and that's a way Talon manages to keep control of him. So he chooses to wear their suit and work with Moira or the other agents.

He'd get this suit from Moira. In game interactions, she's shown interest in Tracer's technology. They have a voice interaction that goes:

Moira: Your state of chronal uncertainty is fascinating to me Tracer, I do wish you would allow me to study you.

Tracer: While I'm truly touched by your offer *sarcastic laugh* I think I'll have to pass.

So without the ability to study Tracer's condition, she turns to the next best thing: Sombra's translator (Sombra stole the technology from Winston, so the design and function is familiar to Tracer's, confirmed by Lena herself). Moira gets enough information and is able to design the suit and (either befor or after it's completed) Reaper, Widow, and possibly Moira herself goes to retrieve Sigma from where he's being held.

Sigma is allowed to research and use Talon's resources for his studies, and he quickly finds ways to control his levitation abilities.

This theory would also make sense game-wise, too. I watched a video where someone proposed the idea Sigma could create a clone of himself. If he has three or two presences in the lore, in the game it would make sense! The clone would act as a decoy and stalling tool as it would try to get the enemy team to waste cool downs and could even contest the point, like Bob or how Sombra could before her invisibility was changed.

I think it's most likely he'll just have multiple personalities, probably two, or just be under Talon's control but I still love this idea!

Finally, I'm just going to give a quick summary of what I think Talon is like right now.

Doomfist is set on waging war and doing everything he can to make things worse in the world. He's getting a little more paranoid of double agents and spies however, so he's trying to do things quietly. There are certain people who he doesn't trust but needs, so he's playing it by year and monitoring Overwatch and Volskya closely, as well as handling any extremely important work by himself.

Reaper is pretty hard to speak for. I think at this point, his storyline could go two ways. One, Reaper is following Doomfist closely and hunting down and killing former Overwatch agents. We don't know if he's actually killing them, but in past comics and animated shorts when he's had the opportunity to kill he hasn't. So he's either being petty and not returning to the other side OR he's actively working on collapsing Talon. There are plenty of other theories about Reaper betraying them out there, but my personal favorites are he's working with Widowmaker and Sombra to help Widow escape and destroy Talon. Another idea is that maybe Talon has done something to him to, or threatened him in some way. But I think he's not exactly in the morally gray area, but not as evil as Doomfist.

Widowmaker is starting to feel again. We know from the comic 'Reflections' she can feel sadness, maybe guilt or remorse. She's standing over her dead husband's grave. Is whatever they've done to her just wearing off? I think she's growing immune to the reconditioning, and/or Sombra is messing with the results of tests or whatever technology they've surely implanted inside of her. Either way, she's most likely scared. She's probably worried on blowing her/their cover, or maybe she doesn't want to feel. Wouldn't it be better to not feel anything over deaths you've caused than live with the guilt?

Sombra is obviously only using Talon for their resources. We knew that since the day they revealed her at Blizzcon. The theory that she's working with Reaper and Widow comes up because we believe she's working with Reyes. On Oasis, they have a interaction where Sombra asks something like, What are we doing here, Boss? to Reaper. So they're most likely working together a step further than just a Talon mission. We don't actually know if Sombra is aware Doomfist knows she is likely planning to betray him and that he knows what she pulled in Russia. If she and Reaper were actually working together, he'd probably tell her. She's probably seen as a risk by the majority of the Inner Council (especially Sanjay, given her history with large companies that are corrupted ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) so she better watch her back and not get cocky.

And finally, Moira is in Talon for the resources, but she's definitely evil. She'll do anything to gain knowledge and reach her goals. I don't have much to say about her, except she probably doesn't care about all the politics surrounding the Inner Council and Doomfist's plans, rather she just wants to learn new things and study. She's probably going to be studying Sigma and talking with him a lot, after all they just saved him from a Testing Facility.

So those are my notes and theories for Sigma and the future of Talon! I'm really excited to see their storyline play out and this is my first time being apart of the game when a new character gets added, so I'm hyped!

Please let me know your theories in the comments! I really want to know what y'all think! Have a great day! 💕