#but aside from extreme cases at least leave me an exciting story

[basingstokemercury]

okay

wow

that was a messed up dream

and I say as a perennial weird-dream-haver

might need to lay off mikado and yeomen for a while?

[constellationcrowned]

THE CROWN OF LEAVES starter sentences Featuring prompts from chapters 1 and 2 (all routes), change pronouns and etc as necessary.

"I don’t often ask you to do something for me but today I’ll make an exception…"

"According to yours and _____’s words, constellations/_______ are important, probably even the main part of me."

"Next time you’ve a mind to lie to me, come up with a better story, you dolt."

"You can trust in my senses, they’re a touch sharper than yours."

"I don’t want to be entertained. I just want to find a silent corner in this house."

"You’re not supposed to be constantly on guard with the ones you love. Being able to trust is a very valuable quality."

"If something unexplainable happens, the spirits are to blame. And if blaming the spirits is not enough, you can also break loose on some clueless fool."

"Let’s smooth out our unfortunate acquaintance with the rules of decencies and introduce ourselves to each other."

"Do you think I wouldn't come to my ______'s rescue? I’d be the first to run if I only knew where to."

"That’s enough, _____. It’s obvious that you spoiled him/her as a child. S/he’s stupid and lazy because you didn’t teach him/her the value of hard work."

"Okay, that’s enough. I don't believe in destiny or predetermination. I change my life myself!"

"_____ never do anything for others, only for themselves."

"You won't deny yourself the pleasure of challenging and refuting me, will you?"

"Don't forget, you still need to protect me!"

"I’m talkin’ about your brains, alright? As if somebody’s gone and pried open your skull and given it a good bit mix-up with a spoon."

"I’m serious. For him/her, there is no friend more important and closer than you."

"It looks a bit… Well I don’t want to be rude… but… boring."

"I just want to understand why you are making this such a big and terrible secret."

"If you absolutely have to write down your name, write it all wrong. In that case, an evil spirit won’t be able to possess you."

"Nobody will forgive you if you screw up."

"Why so grumpy? I just wanted to see my friend."

"I’m only asking you to stay in touch, that’s all. And should you run into trouble — well, I'll always come to the rescue, if I can."

"I asked you for at least a day---a single day!---not to touch those blasted constellations/_____."

"As your faithful friend, I prefer to ignore your failures."

"Won’t you tell me what’s wrong with the little one? S/he’s extremely silent."

"If one learned how to hide all of them did. The dead helped the living to avoid their mistakes."

"As far as I know, amnesia's not contagious."

"Some challenges need to be addressed head-on. I have an axe, for example…"

"Some _____ are eternally exiled for violating the rules. What if _____ is one of them?"

"Not everyone knows what they want from life. And not everyone has as much energy as you do to look for the best place for themselves."

"Honestly, I've had enough of aggressive communication for today."

"Can I see them? The _____, I mean."

"I'm not eager to end up like my ______! And neither do I want to be a substitute----no matter for who or what!"

"That's right. If you've chosen your way, then follow it."

"You're going to die until none of those who are willing to save you are left---and they're already few."

"_____, bark."

"Mark my words, I’ll ensure your punishment is long and exciting."

"Even such a touching confession won’t make me become your partner/_____."

"There’s no time to be tired, I need to pack my things."

"Now I know exactly what kind of monster under the bed I was afraid of as a child. It was you!"

"I don't know about _____, but ______ definitely loved you very much."

"In what way can one become a murderer? In the most direct one."

"And here I thought you were just foolin’ with me, but you really, truly don’t understand a bloody thing."

"I have no choice and you know that! I don't want to run into _____ again!"

"A part of me is in _____. Moreover, it saved his/her life."

"This is my real home! All jesting aside, if you lived here for awhile, you’d realize it’s not nearly as bad as it seems."

"A long tail is useful for plowing the ground, but that’s it."

"I knew there was something dangerous about you, something otherworldly. I should have followed my hunch."

"So you don’t remember _____, do you?"

"If s/he acts like this towards friends, then how does s/he act towards enemies? I don’t even want to know."

"You mentioned something about your destiny---we're going to test it now."

"That’s just how our culture has turned out. It’s full of mysticism, even if you don’t like it."

"I… I remembered I had another wound, aside from the one _____ gave me."

"Remember this once and for all: you don’t play these stupid games with me."

"Glad you care about me and my health! How sweet of you!"

"I’m not staying with him/her. Leave it to him/her to kill me in the middle of nowhere."

"Sometimes, as it happens, I see a human and my stomach growls."

"I'm not insulting anyone---I'm telling the truth in the most straightforward way."

"I’d like you to understand this: I don’t hate you."

"Who is “everybody”? Does anyone else other than you want to see me?"

"I shan’t be messing about with your head anymore. Seems to me it’s suffered quite enough."

"You’re a friend of our birthday boy/girl, aren’t you?"

"If you want to get rid of insomnia, I advise you to stop drinking coffee first."

"If the ______ doesn't get banished, people will start dying."

"Grow up and stop believing in fairy tales."

"I work with what I see. You looked like you were about to throw up."

"______ would happily go to any lengths to save you."

"I remember everything very clearly! Why won't you believe me? Why would I lie?"

"Did s/he really get so mad at me for not coming to his/her party?"

"Just admit it. Admit that you’re bursting with envy."

"It’s okay, you can keep it. It suits you---with all the stars and everything."

"How do I know it's not poisoned?"

"Two of my friends are dead! Why?! Who allowed them to die?"

"Your mind isn’t all that good and well, and you know why? You broke my restriction."

"Now I can’t even take it away…...only kill it."

"You really hear them? And just what are they going on about?"

"It's difficult to trust someone who's been constantly stalling from the very beginning instead of speaking frankly, isn't it?"

"You think I enjoy yattering about myself? Not even close."

"Good, be afraid. A horrendous monster with giant sharp teeth dwells in that house/_____---it will gobble you up and not even choke."

"It occurred to me that I could ask about your childhood and get to know you better."

"Keep in mind though, I can replace mercy with rage at any time."

"There’s no such thing as “______”. It sounds like some beaten fantasy book trope."

"Maybe s/he's gone totally nuts and started suspecting everyone around of some evil deed."

"Such a delicate ringing… a pleasant sound….it must be that one day it will grow louder."

"And what’d it get you? Nothing. Not a bloody, damned thing."

"You know what happens to mortals if they don’t leave _____ when....when they should?"

"Was it too hard to smile, huh?"

"I haven’t done anything wrong! I have nothing to do with it!"

"Your head has finally got rid of _____ and made a space for me. I’m glad it did. Now I’m going to be your best friend/____."

"I used to be very friendly---perhaps much friendlier than I am now."

"I’m not exactly what you’d call the finest at maths, but that’s already two conditions, and not just one."

"You managed to defend yourself. On your own."

"If you're the savior of the _____, then why did _____ kill you?"

"That title isn’t ringing any bells? Oh, okay, I knew I should have chosen something else."

"Just tell me this: do you hear the stars?"

"I know better. I’ve been around him/her longer than you."

"There’s no wound….but s/he stabbed at me right here."

"Obsession is passion! And what’s so bad about passion?"

"I think you give too much importance to fairy tales. Although, this isn’t surprising of you."

"Let me tell you who you reminded me of, to make this awkward situation even more awkward."

"They dragged you away, and I was afraid you were done for. Are you okay?"

"I’ve lived my entire life by the ______’s side, I know all about them!"

"Both were so determined, so desperate. A perfect example of self-sacrifice."

"Trust is the very thing I don’t demand. I just suggest helping each other. Wouldn't it be the best decision to stick together?"

"____’s right smart at telling stories. I’m even a touch envious, really---s/he’s always got the best of ideas, meanwhile my brain is all full of spiders and dirt."

"What’s the point of saving the ______ if there will be no one left to dwell in it?"

"I… hate him/her....but….what would I hate him/her for?"

"Carry your ladies/______ in your arms, and they won’t run away from you."

"I'd hate to find your bare corpse somewhere under a birch."

"Well, why so silent? We haven’t seen each other in ages! You could have said “hello”, at least."

"If you forgot about _____, just let it stay like that. And this is my best advice."

"Did I get into a scrap and make a scene?"

"You’re as good as a tool for them, and they’ll indulge you for as long as you are useful to them."

"_____.....Why on earth am I thinking of her/him? I don’t know….but s/he’s driving me wild right now."

"They judge me… hate me…"

"You're a despicable son of a bitch used to being fussed over by everyone."

"This world---whatever world it is---is empty, and there’s nobody in it except me."

"This creature has a soft spot for eyes/____, because it has none of its own."

"Oh, my little friend. You will always be safe."

"S/he is generally incapable of holding long meaningful conversations."

"Am I the only one lucky enough to see you both from a slightly different perspective?"

"This is my secret, and you are the only one privy to it. Well, happy now?"

"I only hope that you’ll always tell me about your adventures."

"It is difficult to get along with someone who is light-minded about deadly danger."

"Part of it is true. You may decide yourself which part exactly."

"You are our bright star, and you need to take to the skies."

"Oh, _____, where did your blind trust in _____ go? Weren’t you the one insisting just half an hour ago that s/he only wants the best for me? Naive."

"Do you think I can just go back to my regular routine without thinking about any of this?"

"Yes, I condone his/her shortcomings. There is not much good in me myself to force _____ to change for me. I love him/her the way s/he is."

"S/he was my companion, s/he means a lot to me! There were supposed to be the two of us….but you let ______ die!"

"I’m your partner, me! I’m the one you must trust!"

"How about a good ol’ goodbye hug?"

"What am I going to do without them? Who's going to help me? I can't deal with it on my own. I need them by my side!"

"The order is disturbed. If _____ is gone, what's the point of _____? If ______ is gone, what's the point of me?"

"Who brought me back to life if it wasn't _____? And what for if nothing will ever be the same again?"

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

HEY BESTIE ITS ME AGAIN! i was wondering if i could get a will request with angst. LOTS AND LOTS of angst about will and the reader seeming to always miss each other in sense of relationships and because of that the reader distanced themself from will so months pass by and they both are single then and they run into each other and eventually get into a fight bc he’s upset that they ghosted him and eventually have an angry love confession and happy ending?

thank u sm bff

YOU WANT ANGST, I"LL GIVE YOU ANGST...in a fairly decent amount cause this was hard to write for some reason🙃 sorryyyy @poulterfilms

~~~~~~~~~~

Why did life have to be so hard?

You watched as Will got ready for his date that night, giddy and excited to be going out, rambling on and on about how nice this person was, who he met a few days prior.

You just smiled and nodded along, pretending that your heart wasn't painfully throbbing with jealousy.

You hated this feeling, longing. It was strange, you never felt this way before with Will. You've been friends with him as long as you can remember, seen him have plenty of dates with other people. So why did you suddenly feel like you wanted him all to yourself? It wasn't like you at all.

"So, what do you think?" Will asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slowly spinning around to show off his outfit.

You plastered on that same fake smile that you unfortunately got into the habit of doing nowadays. "You look great, Will. You always do." You didn't mean to sound so sad, but it came out that way and you internally cringed.

Will cocked his head with a confused grin. "You okay?"

You nodded your head eagerly. "Of course!" You stood up from where you sat and quickly adjusted the collar of Will's shirt, struggling to pull away when he smiled at you. "I always have to fix that damn shirt collar." You chuckled weakly, forcing yourself to take a couple steps back.

Will copied your chuckle, turning around to do a once over in his mirror. "What would I do without you?" He joked, but you frowned for a split second before shaking your head.

"Well, don't wanna keep the lucky date waiting, right?" You patted him on the shoulder, maybe a little too hard since Will rubbed his shoulder with a grimace afterwards.

"You are absolutely right. I'll be off then, night, love!" Will placed a quick kiss to your cheek, heading out of his house, leaving you alone with the ghost of the kiss lingering on your cheek. The innocent, and most importantly, friendly kiss.

You looked around the living room solemnly, looking to your feet to see the two pups you were trusted to take care of while the owner was out of his date. Welp, at least I have his dogs to share my misery with...

You had no idea how you let this happen. You've always seen Will as a friend, and nothing more. You've both hyped each other up when one of you scored a date. Will has seen you off to plenty of dates and never had a problem with it, so why couldn't you do the same for him?

Unbeknownst to you, Will actually has had similar feelings. He didn't know how it happened, but he developed strong feelings for you. He clearly knew you didn't feel the same, and he had to sit idly by as he watched you be in and out of relationships with people who weren't him.

He's never been one to get jealous, but he'd definitely be lying if he said he never was jealous of your partners. He wanted to be the one to hold your hand, he wanted to be the one to open doors for you, to be the one you smiled at when he wasn't looking. He decided to move on, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But his respect for you trumped his lust that he felt at the same time, he just wished he could turn his feelings off.

You decided to hole up in your apartment after Will came back from his date, the date that went "extremely well." The "he'd definitely be seeing this person again" date.

You couldn't say you were devastated, for obvious reasons. You didn't want to tell Will you had feelings for him, and you didn't want to be selfish. You always felt selfish nowadays.

You just felt like a burden.

It was hard hanging out with Will, always having to hear about his new partner, how they're so nice and kind and caring and apparently so fuckin' amazing...it made you want to vomit. It made you not want to hang out with him as much anymore, but thankfully, that decision was made for you. Will didn't have time for you anymore, he really wanted to make his relationship with this new person work, more than he wanted to keep your friendship strong, you thought.

Eventually, you just stopped trying to initiate conversations. Will would text you, all the time really, he'd just be too busy to see you. Between acting roles and sending time with his partner, you'd only be with him through text messages.

An epiphany struck you one day: you deserved better.

You knew you were right, and that's why it made your choice to painful. You had to cut ties with Will, but you had no idea how you'd do that without breaking down.

You took the coward's way out, at least, you thought it was cowardly.

You simply just stopped replying to his text messages. But once he started to text you messages like "can we talk?" you thought you might give him a chance. You said you'd do it tomorrow, then tomorrow turned into the next day, then a week passes, then a month. You stopped thinking about it, you didn't want to think about it, because every time you did, the urge to contact Will got stronger and stronger. You wanted to move on. You needed to move on. But, you never could get him out of your thoughts completely.

Months and months go by, and before you know it, it's Christmastime.

You'd decided to travel around after cutting off contact with Will, mostly just couch hopping with friends, exploring the area to get your mind off how heart broken you felt. It was a good distraction, for awhile. But now that Christmas was soon, you had to go back to your home town; you did miss your family quite a lot. But you did feel that similar anxiousness after coming back home, thinking about Will and the "what ifs." Will always loved spending time with his family during the holidays, and you knew he'd probably be in town.

Just going outside to check the mail was nerve wracking to you, but you chuckled bitterly at your paranoia, it's not like he was going to show up at your house out of the blue. He wouldn't do that.

Your family really wanted a Christmas tree, a real one. You tried to use your allergies as an excuse to just stick with an artificial tree, but your parents were dead set on having a real tree. It wasn't exactly a lie, you used to get real trees, you just couldn't be around one too closely or else you get into a sneezing fit. But you really just didn't want to be out in the town, just in case.

But your family dragged you along to help pick out a tree anyway, in the freezing cold.

You idly kicked some icicles that were formed on the bottom of tree branches, smiling subtly to yourself as you heard the crackle of the ice hitting the concrete. You looked over to see your family still trying to decide on what kind of tree they wanted, and you remembered how indecisive your folks were. You were gonna be there for awhile...

"Y/n?" As if you weren't freezing enough, the voice that you heard from beside you made a chill go up your spine, causing you to sink down more into your coat.

You looked to your left, unluckily for you, seeing your former best friend beside you, an unreadable expression on his face. "Will...? Uh, w-what are you doing here?" You weren't sure if it was the cold that made you stutter, or just the pure nervousness and almost fear that you felt.

Will uncomfortably shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath before answering. "My, uh, mum wanted to have a tree this year. I'm guessing yours did too?"

You nodded curtly. "Yep."

The awkward silence made you want to curl up into a ball and throw yourself off a cliff.

"We should probably talk." Will said.

"Uh," You nervously rubbed your hands together, "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why not?" He asked bluntly, his expression turning cold.

You sighed. "I...well, I have to help my parents get this tree so..."

"Fine. I'll come by later."

"Wait-"

"See you tonight." And with that, Will walked away in a hurry, not giving you the chance to refuse.

You bit the inside of your lip hard, a coppery taste coating the tip of your tongue when you explored the small dent in your mouth that you created from stress.

You figured this day would come soon enough. Karma's a bitch, as some say. You thought you'd have a bit more time to prepare yourself for a confrontation, but the universe decided to be a jerk and sucker punch you in the face with your regrets.

You went home, feeling like a knife was twisting in your gut as you helped your family set up your Christmas tree in the living room, constantly glancing at the clock every chance you could.

Eventually, your family decided to leave the house once more, having bought tickets to a play that night, which you politely declined to go to. You weren't interested in yet another retelling of the Christmas story acted out by little bratty children who couldn't remember their lines half the time. No, you have somewhat decent standards.

You just sat on the living room couch with your family pet, staring at the clock, seeing the hands move slowly until it finally reached nine o'clock. You untensed for a moment, thinking that maybe Will decided to not come over. The loud ring of the doorbell quickly squashed that idea.

You opened the door, not surprised to see Will on the other side, his cold expression unchanged from when you last saw him.

You said nothing as you moved aside, opening the door wider for Will as he walked in.

The air felt thick, like there wasn't enough oxygen for both of you to be in the same room. It felt similar to whenever you pulled your blankets over your head when you were little and afraid of the dark, thinking that nothing can hurt you if you were completely wrapped up in the comfort of your duvet, but never getting enough fresh air to keep those blankets over your head, eventually having to pull the blankets off to breathe. You really wished you had a blanket now...

"Well?" Will broke the silence, looking to you expectantly.

You shrugged slightly. "Well what?"

Will chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "You know what, Y/n." When you didn't reply, he continued. "You stop talking to me all of a sudden, for months, not even telling me why. I need to know why, I deserve an explanation."

You sighed, looking anywhere but at him. "I just...needed some time away..." What a fucking lie...

"Some time away, really? That's your excuse? We were best friends, everything was fine, so what went wrong, huh? Why did you just up and leave everything behind without telling me?" You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself as his voice got louder with every sentence. "Are you even listening to me? Do you hate me now, is that it? I don't know what I did, please, tell me." He pleaded.

"Will..." You whispered, finally looking to him to see unshed tears in his eyes. "it was me, not you. You didn't do anything wrong..."

Will stepped closer to you, his arms crossed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt to be ghosted by the one person you thought cared about you the most? It really fucking hurt. And now, you're just standing here like you don't even care."

"I do care, Will." You said softly, reaching out to touch him but he quickly flinched away.

"Then why did you leave? I want the truth."

"I wasn't happy...with myself...with you." You started, walking over to take a seat on your couch. "I felt alone. You spent all your time with your partner, you rarely had time for me anymore."

"Wait, my partner?"

"Yeah...the beginning of this year, you started dating that person, I forgot their name..."

Will shook his head. "It didn't work out with them, I'm not seeing anyone, haven't for awhile. But that's not the point. Why didn't you just tell me that you felt alone? You know I would've made time for you if that's what you needed."

You felt like you wanted to scream, frustration starting to consume you, but you settled for a muffled groan. "It wasn't just because I felt alone..."

"Then what?"

Fuck it...

"Because I hated seeing you date other people. I absolutely hated it. And when you started gushing about how amazing this person was, I felt like I wanted to bash my head in with a hammer." Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated, but you got your point across.

"You didn't want me to date other people?" Will's heart beat rapidly in his chest, just the thought of why you possibly felt that was making him anxious to ask, "Why?"

You were scared to answer, afraid of his reaction. What if he hated you? That would be the worst case scenario, you'd rather die than have him hate you. But, you did owe it to Will to tell him the truth. The unfiltered, honest truth.

"We've been friends for as long as I can remember. We always told each other everything." You smiled weakly. "We'd always be happy for each other whenever we went on dates and found people that made us happy. But...there was a point where I realized that no matter how many dates I went on with other people, I never truly found happiness in those people. Because, I always thought about someone else...you." You looked up at Will. "You've always been the one person to make me truly happy. And I finally figured it out, it's not because you were my best friend, it's because...you're the one I always wanted to be with, Will."

Will took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to take in your words. "That night, when I was about to go on that date, you weren't yourself. You looked sad..."

"I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me." You wiped away a few fallen tears with your sleeve, sighing tearfully. "I was being selfish...really selfish." You frowned.

Will carefully sat beside you, looking straight ahead. The red and green lights placed crookedly on the Douglas fir being one of the only light sources in the room, illuminating your tear ridden face and causing a reflective shine to Will's glassy sorrowful eyes.

"I had no idea." Will said, being the first one to break the silence yet again.

"That was kind of the point." You sniffled, curling your knees up to your chest.

"...I'm sorry."

You furrowed your brows, looking to Will in confusion. "Why are you sorry? I'm the only one who should be sorry."

Will shook his head. "No..." He laughed sharply, clenching his fists in his lap. "It's funny."

"What is?" You asked, trying not to sound offended.

"I've spend years trying to get over my feelings for you, and you tried to do the same. Guess I'm not as intuitive as I thought."

You silently gasped. "Will? You...? Huh?"

Will smiled weakly. "I only started dating other people because I was trying to push away my feelings for you, and of course, it didn't work."

"Will, if this is some joke-"

"It's not. Have I ever lied to you?"

"...no. You've had feelings for me this entire time? And I punished you for it..." You said as you felt the tears well up in your eyes again.

"No, Y/n, no. You had no way of knowing, just like I had no way of knowing how you felt about me."

"I'm so sorry, Will. I never should've left."

Will quickly grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You're here now. It's okay...we're okay."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Will smiled softly. "Of course. I've never been able to stay mad at you for long."

You frowned. "What if I deserve it?"

"No. No, you don't. It's all going to be okay."

You took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears again as Will pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "What now?"

"Maybe it's too early to ask but...we could go on a date." Will chuckled weakly.

You looked back up at Will, trying to hide your growing smile. "Really?"

"If that's what you want."

You looked at the clock. "It's getting a little late, I don't think that many places would be open right now. We could go out tomorrow?"

"It's a date." Will smiled.

You sighed. "I really wish I would've talked to you about this instead of running away..."

Will shook his head, bringing his hand up to gently caress your cheek. "I shouldn't have raised my voice earlier. So now we both have something we regret. But it's okay, Y/n. I felt like running away quite a few times myself whenever you went out with someone else...or just hiring a hitman or something."

You laughed genuinely, playfully pushing Will's shoulder. "I think my family is gonna be home soon."

"That's my cue to leave, I take it?"

You pouted. "I don't want you to."

"Well, hey, we'll see each other tomorrow." He smiled.

You walked Will to your front door, frowning as he opened it. "I never used to be the clingy type with anyone."

Will turned around to face you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm hug. "It's all going to be okay. We're gonna do this thing right."

You pulled away with a huff, looking deeply into his eyes. "I really want to kiss you right now." You giggled.

Will grinned, replying to your statement by leaning in, delicately brushing his lips over yours before fully placing them onto yours passionately. You could truthfully say that the kiss made you weak in the knees, it was everything you imagined it to be and more. It was intoxicating.

The kiss quickly got heated, and you didn't know if you'd be able to stop yourself. Will grabbed at your sides, trying to pull you even closer than you were already, eliciting a quiet moan from you when he gently pulled on the roots of your hair. But you finally forced yourself to stop, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry." Will quickly apologized.

"I didn't want to stop." You snickered, running your hands through your now tangled hair. "We haven't even gone on our first date yet and I already want to rip your clothes off."

Will blushed and grinned. "Guess we'll just have to save it for tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow it is."

~~~~~~~~~

I had trouble writing this, if you couldn't already tell. Ugh, I have no idea why the reunion bit threw me off balance so badly

[with-my-murder-flute]

Sometimes you just have a really intense week and can’t stop thinking about how much trauma Lan Sizhui experienced by the time he was 5 and how being the Very Best Boy isn’t always healthy and then you need to write Lan Wangji the child psychologist and his incredibly anxious foster-son, y’know?

---

Bunny is on time-out again.

"You have to behave,” A-Yuan says in the voice of the potato-head, packing accessories into its body and shoving it into the bed of a soft plastic truck. “You get in the car now.” The Barbie van is already full, with a dinosaur and a fingerpuppet and one of the new larger Lego figures, and all their carefully packed luggage. A-Yuan does that. Over and over again, for each of his toys, he methodically packs and unpacks luggage. It’s his most common form of play, but not the most enjoyable.

A-Yuan’s breathing is rapid and shallow, so much so that he takes little gasps when he talks to himself. Routinely, predictably, he’s calmer when he turns away from the dollhouse. He’s most collected when selecting items to put into luggage, deciding on pieces of felt and Barbie shoes, but even with the vehicles he can lose himself enjoying the movement and progress of the cars. But underneath it all, there’s a jerkiness to his movements and a certain disconnected quality in his speech and body language that tells Lan Wangji that he’s pretty distressed.

It’s a step forward that Bunny is out at all, Lan Wangji knows. A behaviour therapist at A-Yuan’s last preschool made it a point to extinguish comfort-seeking behaviour towards the toy, which was becoming both careworn and grubby. A-Yuan’s had it at least since he was fourteen months old; it was with him when he came into care. Maybe his birth mother gave it to him. A-Yuan has obediently derogated the toy; if it’s left lying out, he can usually be trusted to throw it into a corner to prove what a big, grown-up boy he is.

Lan Wangji has very carefully gauged his son’s limits of tolerance for some things. When the car ride begins, he waves slightly and says, “Have a nice trip,” which makes A-Yuan glance back at him nervously, but it’s just mild enough, just unemotional enough, just tolerable enough, that it doesn’t provoke too much emotion. A-Yuan can keep pushing his vehicles around, and feel safe enough to drive one into Lan Wangji’s foot. He doesn’t persevere at that point, though; the trip has culminated and he gets up and walks to where he can see down the hallway to the front door, then wanders over to the slide.

A hundred million years ago, Lan Wangji thought he’d be a genetics researcher, like his uncle. Then he thought he’d be a neuroscientist, like his undergraduate thesis advisor. Then he thought he’d be a psychologist like his brother, who focuses entirely on assessment and the development of psychometric tools. For a little bit in grad school, he thought he’d counsel adults, like Wei Wuxian, until a classmate told Wei Wuxian that Dialectical Behavioural Therapy was “objectively badass” and he developed a fixation Lan Wangji could not follow. In retrospect his career path is absolutely obvious, resonating clearly through every bone of him, but it took him a very long time to realize he ought to work with children. It’s a little shocking that he, who was so bad at being a child, feels so prepared to be a father.

He smiles when A-Yuan looks at him anxiously from the slide, the moment of uncertainty as he lets go and begins sliding down triggering the need for reassurance. Lan Wangji is always waiting for that glance, waiting to return it. At A-Yuan’s last placement he’d been assessed as having an avoidant/dismissing attachment style, and despite its uncharitable and parent-shaming nature Lan Wangji can’t help but agree with what his husband had muttered over that one: “Were the parents even trying?”

The most vital task, and the hardest, is being present in the moment with a child. Not worrying about the future, not concerned with the past, not preoccupied with an external standard. He’s surprisingly bad at performing objective assessments with children, because he can see how unfair they all are. His greatest facility is something he built for himself, brick by painstaking brick: the willingness to sit with discomfort, and have faith that the chaos will not remain chaos. All his years of meditation have cultivated a still eye to see the world from, and the faith that patience and compassion will see him through.

Still smiling, still watching A-Yuan, Lan Wangji moves closer to the dollhouse. He carefully stars arranging its contents, righting knocked-over furniture and returning blankets to little wooden beds. He takes out a shark figurine, a couple of doll clothes, then puts Bunny on the floor near his shin. When A-Yuan comes close, magnetically drawn away from the slide, Lan Wangji reaches behind himself for the tea set they were using earlier, arranging cups and plates in front of him as though they’re going to have another tea party. He leaves the placement of the cups ambiguous; it’s not like Bunny is specifically invited, but there is a suggestive proximity, the way the other cup is in proximity to the shark. A-Yuan takes the teapot, and Lan Wangji solemnly holds his cup out while A-Yuan pours. For the sake of the ritual he accepts milk and refuses sugar and mimes stirring his invisible ingredients before taking a sip.

When A-Yuan is done drinking, Lan Wangji turns to Bunny, lifting a cup, and asks, “Would you like some tea?” A-Yuan noticed the moment that Lan Wangji’s hand moves, but as he addresses the rabbit A-Yuan seems to lose interest, which is to say, he slightly dissociates; blink and you missed it, but his eyes go a little glassy, he looks away, and then he acts on the adrenaline and gets up and wanders away.

The current theory about Bunny is like the theory of gravity, which is to say, it’s definitely pretty certain but it never hurts to be humble when it comes to knowledge. It’s honestly a little more speculative and psychodynamic than Lan Wangji is truly comfortable with, and A-Yuan’s case manager, possibly a little defensive over the last preschool placement, absolutely refuses to consider the possibility. But it still feels as essential and true as which way is up that Bunny performs the vital task of holding all the parts of A-Yuan that he blames for making the adults he cares about disappear. Bunny holds both the neediness and the hope for comfort that were so painful, his son shut them down in order to survive. Bunny was how A-Yuan mediated that desire, the source of his comfort, until he was three and a half, and the behaviour therapist.

A-Yuan knew his foster parents didn’t like him being disorganized and distressed and clingy, that they’d rather he behaved more like a six-year-old than four. Which he could, sometimes, because he had a ferocious intelligence which put him cognitively ahead of his emotional development. But he, well... adapted a little too quickly, one might say. Learned his lesson a little too well. Now they’re trying to reignite the behaviours that were extinguished.

Lan Wangji takes a risk, while A-Yuan is pulling picture books off the lower shelf, and lifts Bunny to his shoulder like a colicky infant. He doesn’t do anything else, aside from stroking the rabbit’s fur. He leaves it in place, with a little guiding help from his hand, when A-Yuan brings a Franklin book over and climbs into his lap, demanding to be read to. With interest he notes, halfway through the story, that Lan Wangji holding and petting Bunny doesn’t distress A-Yuan; as the story arc gets as exciting as Franklin books ever do (which is not, to be clear, a criticism) A-Yuan turns in his arms long enough to distractedly reach up and pet Bunny too, before turning back and trying to grab the book for himself.

Wondering how far he can push this, he keeps Bunny in place on his shoulder when they leave the room to check the clock, and A-Yuan goes to the living-room window to watch the street for Wei Wuxian. He looks curiously when Lan Wangji leans down to dig the remote out between the couch cushions, but easily redirects when Lan Wangji turns on the TV and goes to prepare dinner. Having the show on limits his anxious glances out the window to three or four a minute only, instead of sustained attention followed by a meltdown if he had to wait more than five minutes.

Lan Wangji thinks it would be easier to keep Bunny in place, on his shoulder like a dishtowel, if he had weighted plastic beads in his extremities, or if he was velcroed. He’s wary of changing anything about such a strong comfort object, though, so he just learns to move and stand differently to keep the rabbit from constantly falling off.

A-Yuan greets Wei Wuxian with the kind of terrified delight that looks like general indifference if you don’t know better; he runs over, stands uncertainly within arm’s reach of Wei Wuxian’s legs, and then dodges away before Wei Wuxian can reach down to him. Lan Wangji helpfully muted the show when he heard the door open--it gives A-Yuan the space to sit with his back to the room and self-regulate while the adults say hello.

“New friend?” his husband asks finally, an eyebrow raised.

“Modelling it as appropriate,” Lan Wangji says. “I thought perhaps he could tolerate us demonstrating that it is not discouraged.”

“Nice rabbit, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says seamlessly, in a voice meant to be heard from the couch. “I like it. Makes me wish I had a rabbit.”

“They are very good friends,” Lan Wangji agrees. “This one is not mine, but he is keeping me company.”

“Nice,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Maybe whoever you borrowed him from will let him hang out with me sometime.”

Their audience does not comment on this, but they didn’t need him to. Wei Wuxian sets the table while Lan Wangji cooks. A-Yuan’s palate is still pretty limited, so he’s used to making three separate elements of one meal, and can live with cutting up cooked hot dog into little coins so long as he doesn’t have to eat them himself. They just supplement their kid’s diet with a multivitamin.

A-Yuan looks askance enough, when dinner is ready, that Lan Wangji takes Bunny off his shoulder and asks, “Where should he sit while we eat?”

There is a fourth chair, albeit completely out of proportion, but he doesn’t dare try it. Instead A-Yuan thinks for a minute, and points to the kitchen counter behind the table. Lan Wangji props Bunny up against the wall, observing dinner if not participating, and after a second to think, A-Yuan accepts this as normal and climbs into his chair. He is meticulously well-behaved.

Lan Wangji aches for his son, and hopes one day he’ll feel confident enough in their love to break the rules around them.

They eat.

[scolopendress-tag]

I said I'd make a post detailing my kid Asra working for Lucio theory in this post so here it is! 

So Let's get STARDED.

So! To start off, how it began. We do know when Asra and Muriel were kids, Lucio came to them each seperately with a deal.

Essentially: work for me, or I'll hurt your friend.

This was the sentiment he repeated for both of them. So, not wanting the other to be harmed, they both agree - unaware of the other's deal.

For Muriel, it was playing heel/excecutioner at the coleseium. For Asra, it was doing... Well, we never know, aside from he worked under Lucio. But that's what we are here to discuss in any case.

Continued under the read more, for the sake of people's dashes.

Now presumably, if I got my timeline right, Asra at this time would've been around 12 or 13. We don't know much about how Asra was when he was younger, other than that he has certainly changed.

It's also worth noting that it's not amiss to say they were both also still homeless at the time, and the hut hadn't come into the play until after.

Asra was still living on the streets.

This all isn't overly important for any of my claims later, but perhaps someone else could make something of it. It does provide us with some framing for the situation as a whole, though.

Now onto Asra's time under Lucio. I don't know that we have any indication of how long it was, but presumably at least a year if not more.

We do also know that Lucio knew who Asra was. Both in that he knew Aisha and Salim had a kid, and that he knew Asra was said kid.

This is bring this up because we know Aisha and Salim were incredibly talented, and likely incredibly powerful. Lucio wouldn't settle for any run of the mill magician or alchemist for the work he needed. So he must've had some idea that Asra may take after that power as well.

To top it off, he also interacted and talked with the dock kids he also used, (two of which would actually later become palace guards,) and seeing as this is seemingly how he learned of Muriel, it's not off to think that this is also how he heard of Asra again to start. The kids knew of Asra's magic, and roughly where he was, and could've even continued talking about both Muriel and Asra to Lucio for unknown amounts of time.

So now Lucio knows that the kid of his two powerful practitioners of magic is not only still around, but taking after them as well.

If Muriel's intimidating size and physical power are what drew Lucio to him, why wouldn't Asra's considerable metaphysical power and talents draw Lucio in as well?

We know how much Lucio loves power, and that he has an interest in magic because of it, as mentioned in the main story. (no ss sorry... If you have one send so I can add. )

Plus, homeless kid in a vulnerable spot. Easy pickings.

That's what I think this whole thing was about, really. It's all power. Though Asra likely didn't have the full scope of power he does in the current game, he was probably still considerably talented, and was only getting better.

What Lucio specifically probably wanted from Asra then was either to be taught how to use that power, to use Asra for things that required it, and/or use his power for entertainment akin to how he used Muriel.

I think out of these however, using him for his power was most likely. Why? (And teaching him now, more on that further down)

(Sorry for bad quality lmao it's a small image. Also thanks to @8-bit-space for showing these to me like months ago. As you can see I can't stop thinking abt it)

These are screenshots from the old prologue. While they're not canon any more, there's reason to believe they still hold merit as to how Lucio feels about Asra.

Two things to me are major here. First is the "powerful potent magic," and how it's the "real deal," equating to a large part of how he views Asra yet again tying back to a heavy interest in his power. Now, you could argue this relates to using his powers in the palace during the plague, but the second point stands out even more to me.

"The one who broke him for me?"

What this implies to me is that Lucio could never quite get all the way through to Asra or control him when he was younger, and he's been dying to do so. He wanted Asra broken, presumably so that he'll become essentially a tool for him to use for his skill and not put up a fight- something Asra likely did as a child.

Because it seems that Lucio for the most part relied on control through fear when it came to Asra, threatening to hurt Muriel, lying to him about how he executed his parents, likely other things as well. But things seem to point to that never quite working like he had hoped.

This could allude to this as well. Though "impossible" is something Asra's been called a few times, namely also by Julian, there's no reason to assume Lucio wasn't also including his work with him as a kid in "always". Impossible to hate could be his draw to Asra for his power, his talent, his skills, the prospect of which I'm sure Lucio found practically mouthwatering. Impossible to love could be his stubbornness or reluctance to do what Lucio wants, always pushing against him or being hard to deal with, both as a kid and during the plague.

And lines like this, where he calls him a coward. I find it hard to relate this to the plague ritual as he was for the most part willingly helping with that, so it could be resenment for when Asra eventually ran off as a kid, unwilling to put up with him any longer, or his reluctance to do certain things for him then in general.

We know, and it has even been mentioned by a character within the canon, that Asra can be incredibly stubborn, to back that up. Plus, he could've been even harder to work with then both being a kid and as I mentioned earlier he has changed from how he was then, so he could've had more spunk to him or such.

This also easily means that what Lucio was trying to get Asra to do then was something Asra was quite obviously opposed to. Being used for his power is already degrading enough, but there could be more to it.

You'll notice in the post that was linked at the top (the reason I'm writing this) I mentioned pushing Asra to his physical limits and magical extremes. This could be one of the reasons for a push back.

If Lucio was having Asra do things for him involving magic, it's not out of pocket to assume he'd practically run him into the ground- I'm sure he really wouldve loved testing the limits of what Asra could REALLY do.

Wether it be huge expendure of power all at once, or tons of smaller things one after the other, it would absolutely take it's toll. We are shown a few times that using magic can exhaust someone, and I don't remember if this is shown in canon ever (tell me if so!) but pushing it even further could definitely lead to other things such as passing out, (Or nosebleeds, for the aesthetic,) alongside likely being incredibly painful and draining, both mentally and physically.

Basically, abusing his powers and the body that commanded them. It's also possible that the stubborness to work with Lucio could also be partially percieved because of this- Lucio taking Asra's literal physical inability to continue as defiance.

Another reason for push back from Asra would be making him do morally compromising things. This is a little more vague, but intimidation is a common headcanon I see for what Lucio made Asra do, and that could tie in here. Other things could be meddling in things and business he shouldn't, but again, it's a vague thing. Make of it what you will. Fucked up stuff all around.

[EDIT - TEACHING LUCIO]

(THANK YOU @tea-tye for showing me these, and credits to @hangedman-magician for the video they came from!!!!!!!)

...I cannot BELIEVE I forgot this, I KNEW I was missing something. Especially when I was fairly certain I remember Lucio being obsessed with the idea of magic. SO, MOVING ON,

There's not terribly much to pick apart here as it's rather direct- Asra saying he has in fact tried to teach Lucio magic. So in my eyes this solidifies that this was a component of Asra's time under Lucio. I still think my points about Lucio treatment (pushing Asra to his limits) stand, as well.

This can also tie in the stubborness mentioned as, well, can you imagine teaching Lucio? Asra backs this up by saying nothing he has ever said stuck with Lucio, and you know how Lucio gets when things don't go his way. He would've blamed his inability to learn on Asra, likely.

Looking to other quotes mentioned: the 'broke him' line still rings to me like he was trying to use Asra in other ways, and the 'coward' line could go either way from refusing to teach Lucio certain things, or refusing to do certain things for Lucio when he was merely being used. The "impossible" line could also go for others, as trying to teach someone like Lucio would've undoubtedly caused some head butting.

This is certainly really exciting and interesting to me as it gives a more complete picture on the exact situation at hand here. I still stay by my reasoning for Lucio simply using Asra as well on top of being taught because it seems highly likely that Lucio would've been too impatient to learn to do certain things himself, and like I said as well, I don't doubt he also just wanted to see what Asra was REALLY capable of. Something he could've saw as a tantalizing insight into the kind of power he could aquire of this kid would just... work with him.

NOW we have a MUCH clearer answer as to what exactly Asra was likely doing under Lucio, or at this point, almost certainly doing. It's a sad picture for Asra of course, but with this you can draw some interesting points as to how he could've been affected by this, as I'm sure it would've left some kind of imprint on him.

Sure it may not have been as traumatic as what Muriel went through, but when you look at it, it's hard to say it DIDN'T leave it's scars. If we consider all the points presented in this post truth we have:

A 12/13 yo homeless child, threatened with his friend's life to work for the Count that he knew was the one responsible for orphaning him and making him homeless in the first place.

Said child believing his parents are still alive, and as we see in Travel at Night, could very likely still be trying to find them. In a situation like Asra's that glimmer of hope probably was a big deal in helping him push on. This may also be a reason he agreed on top of Muriel's safety.

While working under the count, he is told that his parents were executed, no doubt devastating. The manner in which this was mentioned is up for debate, and could affect exactly how it was taken. Options could be Lucio joking or bragging about it (treating it as trivial or an accomplishment), or using it to threaten Asra, (as in I killed your parents, I'll kill you too,) both would work when it comes to controlling by fear.

It is also mentioned that Lucio told him the reason for his parents execution is that they messed up his gold arm, so Asra also has the knowledge that his parents were killed over something so unbelievably trivial.

Being used as a source of power and nothing else, both for teaching and pure work/entertainment, all for the man who killed his parents, day after day.

Being pushed to physically painful and mentally draining limits, expending so much energy that he completely exhausts himself, day after day.

Likely taking all sorts of verbal abuse from Lucio, day after day.

Like mentioned earlier, it seems clear that Lucio wanted to break Asra, so some other form of trying to chip away at his psyche to make him more convenient for Lucio is likely as well.

Those points alone, to yet again a CHILD no less, seem more than enough to cause some traumatic impact, and depending on certain specifics of what exactly went on during that time, it could be worse. I may make a post looking into the long lasting effects of this on Asra, I may not. It would mostly be headcanon regardless. If you want to add your hc relating to this situation though, I'll gladly reblog it!

And now that we are closing out, it's time to revise my summary. So, without further ado, THIS is what I think was going on during this time.

Lucio knows of Asras existence and parentage.

Lucio learns Asra is around and that he's got power.

Lucio LOVES power, so he threatens Asra into working for him.

Lucio uses Asra for his power and to be taught how to use it for himself.

While using Asra for his knowledge and power, runs him into the ground by pushing his limits to physical and magical degrees, possibly even moral.

Asra pushes back against a lot of this, or is at least percieved to, frustrating Lucio.

Lucio does what he can to try and control Asra even more, primarily via fear, but can't seem to crack him.

Eventually it's too much, and Asra leaves. Likely when the plague hit like Muriel, but it's possible it could've been somewhat sooner. Lucio is PISSED, because he wanted that magical power all to himself.

Less related, I can see Lucio trying to brush it off and pretending to be fine with it, excuse being "he was too difficult to work with, anyways," or something.

...And then... years later, as far as Lucio sees it, Asra comes crawling back- and he's tamed down to a degree! He's actually working with him. Lucio might not know what or who did it, but Asra is finally broke for him, and I'm sure he was absolutely ecstatic to have that power back in his hands- and more than ever before.

Think of all of this as you would like!

At the end this is all still speculative, so definitely feel free to make your own points or say if you feel any different abt anything- expansions or counters on this theory/headcanon welcome!

And if you also have any other screenshots or info not here that could add to the theory or change the outlook of certain things definitely add them!!! I feel like I'm missing stuff for sure, and my memory has probably muddled some things (hopefully I didn't get anything wrong, though.)

And @asrascherry thanks for the offer in helping word my hcs also! I forgot to say that. This one is just so long I wouldve felt bad bringing it all to you 😔 it's probably still messy as a result but I tried lmao (worried it's repetitive or unclear 😬)

Uh yeah! That's mostly it for NOW.

+All the love to Asra for going through so much I'm so sorry bb,,

Thanks for reading!

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Shin Tsukinami (Story 11+CG)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! If you enjoy these translations, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Monologue

We sneaked into Violet’s mansion, aiming for the chance that Carla-san and his members had gone out.

In the end, we were discovered by none other than Carla-san himself though.

Thanks to Shin-kun’s quick wittedness, we managed to successfully get away behind his back.

However, Shin-kun has injured himself during that time.

Shin-kun said that it’s not a big deal for him and that there’s no need for me to worry, yet I can’t help but be concerned about his current condition.

Place: Outside — Forest

Yui: (It seems that Carla-san hasn’t been chasing after us for a long time since that happened)

(I wonder, Kino-kun hasn’t come back either, since he’s scouting around the area. But is it really okay for me not to worry about him as well?)

(Thanks to that though, we’re able to rest by an open-air fire in the forest all by ourselves)

Looks as if Kino-kun’s not coming back from scouting any time soon, don’t you think?

Shin: He said he’d be looking around each of the three mansions, so it might really take some time after all, right?

Yui: True...

Shin: ...Kch

Yui: ...Nn! Shin-kun, does your injured leg hurt a lot?

(It must’ve happened when he kicked the chandelier. So he said he was fine, but at the end he isn’t)

Shin: It’s nothing too trivial, seriously.

Yui: But you’re still bleeding… at least let me bind something around it for the sake of stopping it.

*Yui rips clothes*

Shin: Wait! What are you doing without warning!?

Yui: I’m tearing my clothes in order to make a bandage for you. It’ll be fine, it’s just the inner fabric so you can’t tell from the outside that I tore it.

Anyway, now I can finally stop the bleeding.

Shin: Hah… you’re really something...

Yui: ...Hm, Shin-kun. Show me your injured foot.

*Shin shows his foot*

Shin: ...Nn…

Yui: It might hurt a little, but please be patient about it. If I don’t tie it strongly enough, the bleeding won’t stop after all.

Shin: ...Ngh

Yui: Ah, I’m sorry… ! This might’ve been a bit too strong.

Shin: No, it’s fine like this… thank you.

Yui: For the time being, let’s rest now. It would be bad if the wound stretched itself even more dreadfully.

Shin: …..

Yui: (Why’s he so quiet… ? He’s looking at me pretty firmly…)

Shin-kun? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me… ! Did it open one of your weak points even more… !?

Shin: No, that’s not it.

Yui: ….. ?

Yui: ...Eh! Hey, Shin-kun!?

(W-What’s he doing... ? He suddenly hugged me)

Shin: If you want to take care of it… I’d appreciate your blood.

Yui: ...Nn.

(Could it be… that he’s behaving like a spoiled child again? I’m pretty sure he’s acting like this because of him being mentally tired of his injury and worrying about Carla-san)

Shin: That guy isn’t around right now anyway, so it’s okay to stay like this for a while, right?

Yui: (It’s rare for Shin-kun to ask me directly like this, so let’s maybe spoil him right here)

Okay… sure.

Shin: Nn, thanks.

I’m somehow really worn-out today. I just want to touch you even more.

Yui: You can hold me until you’re satisfied, Shin-kun.

Shin: Ah… it feels so good to hold you in my arms like this...

Yui: Shin-kun…

Shin: When I embrace you as closely as I do right now, I always feel so calm. Almost as if you’re exceptionally good at this.

Yui: Heh, you think so? I don’t know about that myself.

Shin: You’ll see what I mean eventually. For now, I’m glad I’m the only one to know. Besides, if I teased you about it, I’d surely provoke an interesting reaction out of you.

Yui: ...Nn! Eh, Shin-kun, where are you touching!? Stop it, it’s tickling me.

Shin: Kuku, I knew it. I can see your body move alongside where I traced the side of your torso nicely, isn’t that right?

Yui: Ah, that’s natural! Anyone who’d touch someone else there would react with it being ticklish and stuff!

Shin: No, you’re the only one who’s as sensitive as that. I already smell the sweet blood coming from your skin just from that.

Haa… seriously, you need to put an end to that. Otherwise I might end up unintentionally getting all crazy about it.

Say… could I suck some if it’s okay? It’ll be useless even if you do end up saying “no”.

Yui: Fine… but only take as much as necessary, okay… ?

♡Roses♡

Shin’s mouth: This really is the best! It’s such a pain to resist and forcibly hold myself back, but it feels so good to get a proper look at your face while sucking now.

Shin’s arm: When it’s just the two of us, without our companion making fun of us, I can finally stop feeling irritated in our relationship.

Shin: Kuku. I don’t hate it when you’re being as obedient as that. Nn… Mm… Nn… !

Yui: Nn… !

Shin: ...Haa… Nn… Mm...

Yui: Shin… kun… Nn, does it feel good… ?

Shin: Haa… yes… it’s still as good as always. Your blood really is the best after all.

The more excited you get about it, the sweeter and richer your blood becomes as well. Nn… Mm… Mm...

Yui: Ah… Nn...

Shin: See, your voice is giving off nice hints too. Why not let me hear how much you’re really feeling it? Mm...

Yui: Ah… !

Shin: Mm… Haa… you really got a dreamy face on. Seems as if you really do love my fangs a lot, right?

Yui: T-That’s not even… true...

(But… I don’t have any power anymore either...)

Kino: Hm?

Yui: Kyaaa!!

Shin: Tch… obviously you had to come in at the best point.

Kino: How annoying. You two let others work their ass off while you were doing what exactly if I might ask?

Yui: N-N-N-Nothing! W-Welcome back, Kino-kun! We were really worried about you and almost got tired of waiting.

Kino: It didn’t seem like nothing happened though. Your face is all red, but what’s the matter? Your eyes are moist and your breath is rising as well, am I right?

Yui: (Uhh… by the way Kino-kun’s talking… he must’ve surely seen us. I’m so very embarrassed and I want to hide so badly…)

Kino: You don’t have to hide yourself now. You’re not the most honest person, hm?

Tell me, are you two in a relationship with another?

Yui: (Kino-kun is definitely enjoying himself right now…)

Choices

1) We’re nothing (black)

2) It’s a secret (white)♡ ♡ ♡

— We’re nothing

Yui: We’re nothing at all, really… ! All I did was check whether or not his injury needs internal medicine...

Kino: What was that? That excuse must’ve been painful to handle.

Don’t you realize that the more you deny it, the more suspicious you get?

Yui: Uhh…

Shin: Haa, the secrets out. You’re seriously one of the worst people when it comes to lying to others.

Yui: S-Sorry…

Shin: Doesn’t matter. We don’t have to necessarily hide our relationship from him anymore now.

— It’s a secret♡

Yui: I-It’s a secret between Shin-kun and I, only the both of us… !

Kino: Eh, why? You’re being unfair. Why am I the only one in the group not involved… ?

Yui: Um…

Shin: Yui, it’s fine. We should probably tell this guy sooner or later anyway.

end Choices

Shin: Kino, I’ll tell you now since it’s the perfect opportunity, so listen. This woman belongs to none other than myself.

It’s best to be clear here for the sake of you not trying any childish pranks or even worse  trying to make a move on her.

Kino: ’Kay, not that I bother. I only want to know more about the detailed beginning of your love and such.

Shin: Hah? Who are you to ask me if I could inform you about how we worked out together?

Kino: Aight, let’s go back to that abandoned house now. It looks like they haven’t found it yet, so it’s safer there than being here.

To be honest, I can’t tell if a member of any family is pursuing me or us as we talk right now either. But we should move as soon as possible.

Yui: (Pursuers, hm…)

Shin: You’re probably right. Every mansion has their own trollers unexpectedly turn up. I’m sure they’re looking for us with a bloody eye.

Yui: (Carla-san and Ruki-kun are looking for us… just thinking about it makes me feel scared)

Shin: Yui, what’s with the face you’re making? Are you okay?

Yui: Y-Yes, I’m fine.

But to be honest, I have to admit that I do get scared thinking of how everyone is chasing and looking after us.

Actually, it’s kind of different… I just want to find a way to get everything back to when it all was normal.

Shin: ...Geez. You’re being scared and just exaggerating everything again. Well, it’s not unreasonable to feel scared though.

You’ll always be by my side in any case. So there’s no need to worry. I’ll always protect you no matter what.

Yui: Yes, that’s true. Shin-kun will always be there with me. Thank you!

Kino: C’mon, hurry up, both of you.

Yui: (Technically there really is no reason for me to feel scared. After all, Shin-kun’s always next to me. I have to do my best for this as well!)

Place: Abandoned house — Inside

Yui: ...Zzz…

Shin: (She’s a really soundly sleeper…)

(I assume you’re tired from always worrying about me and dealing with this guy as well, isn’t that right?)

(It’s always the same tiresome thing with this guy. I have to be careful not to worry too much about him myself—)

Kino: Ahh~, she’s an extreme sound sleeper. I wonder if the strategy was too much for a girl like her?

Shin: Shouldn’t you rather say that this is the fault of your useless breaking into houses here and there? You’re the one continuously making us feel nervous.

Kino: Eh, am I? I’m just playing around a bit, that’s all.

Shin: It didn’t seem like you just “ordinarily” played around.

Kino: —Leaving that aside, don’t you think it’s slowly time for you to hear me out as well?

Shin: About what?

Kino: Al-righ-ty.

How far is your relationship with her? Don’t leave any details, tell me.

Shin: What? Why do you want to know? You know I already told you that I’m not telling you anything.

Kino: I thought you’re simply not telling me anything interesting about it as long as she’s awake.

And now you can technically say things that you usually can’t say, right? So, do you really like that girl?

Shin: ...Shut up! Why would I tell you something like that?

It shouldn’t matter to you if I like her or not. I don’t even understand what you mean anyway.

Kino: This doesn’t have anything to do with any “meaning”. I’m just interested in hearing those kinds of stories from others.

...Hey, I need you to tell me. I want to know what attracted or fascinated you in this woman whatsoever.

Shin: What? You got seriously all of the sudden for that?

Kino: As for this, I’ll be completely serious. When I see you two, I think you do look nice together.

Shin: Huh? Are you feeling sick? You’re acting sort of weird.

Kino: “I’m acting weird”, he said. That’s really mean, y’know?

At the very beginning, I just wanted to use you both for my own benefits.

Shin: ...Heh, is that so? We already knew you must’ve had some ulterior motive.

Kino: But that’s not the case anymore now, y’know? You wouldn’t have suddenly put your trust into me after all.

Shin: Well, more or less. I was only wondering if you really could be of any use for us anyway.

Kino: And even though both of us suspected each other, we somehow joined hands. But—

I didn’t think it would be as much fun as it is when we three are together like this, which makes this game kind of enjoyable for the first time. Also—

You didn’t abandon me when I was at a clear disadvantage while being cornered by Carla from the Violet family.

That made me really happy. I really felt that way.

Shin: …..

Kino: That’s why I want to understand. Until now I didn’t think I needed that feeling, but welp, it’s not that I hate it.

So is that what it means to cooperate with friends? I don’t know yet.

Shin: ...I guess.

Kino: …..

Shin: …..

Kino: Hold on, why are you all quiet now? You’re making this awkward, man. At least say something.

Shin: Me too… I also think I just learned that recently.

Kino: Eh?

Shin: I’m a founder, and my ancestors were absolute in the past.

No-one was ever allowed to go against them. Moreover, those who didn’t obey them were beaten mercilessly.

Anybody and everybody was beating me. But there was a guy who surpassed him over me being injured.

Kino: You mean...

Shin: Yes, it was my brother.

No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ever surpass my brother and that’s why I’ll never become the founder’s king.

I was so annoyed and frustrated by that fact, yet I couldn’t ever admit or recognize that.

Because of that, I wasn’t able to see through my own stupidity and never showed actual respect to my elder brother.

Kino: ...Yeah, I get that feeling. Ever since the moment I was born, I never felt anything other than regret. I never knew what to do and cried a lot as well.

I only wanted for someone to recognize my existence. And just like that, I’ve been continuously searching for the meaning of my existence...

Shin: Kino… don’t tell me you—

*Kino stays silent*

Kino: ...I’m fine with it, wanna continue?

Shin: ...Well, even if I was trying my hardest, it felt as if nothing I did helped me bear the burdens on my shoulders.

But when I met this guy, I was actually able to face my problem properly. I finally understood something I wanted.

And thanks to realizing that, I actually noticed the greatness of my brother now. All that thanks to that one guy.

Kino: Hmm… So does that mean you understand it now? The fact that you can’t surpass your brother, I mean.

Shin: No, that’s not really what I tried to get across the table with what I said...

In other words, I became aware how narrowed my field of vision used to be.

Therefore I’m really worried about my brother.

Kino: Heh. I’m glad you understood whatever you’re confident about now.

Shin: Before we escaped the Violet mansion some time ago, I left a letter for him to read there.

I hope this might give him a chance of somehow restoring his memory. Even if it might not make any sense to him.

I really want him to regain his memory as quickly as possible again, but that’s all I can do for now. I don’t think I’d be up to do that task straight away anyway…

*Kino stays silent*

Kino: At least you're doing whatever you’re able to right now.

Shin: Yes, I guess you could say so.

Kino: …..

Shin: ……

Kino: ...Well, if you’re leaving it as it is, he has to come back to you someday, right? So don’t feel too depressed about it.

Shin: Wait, what happened to your attitude? You were serious just a second ago.

Kino: Because I’m pretty sure he’ll remember and then come back to you. If I believe in that, you’ll do too, right?

Shin: ...Nn!

Kino: So don’t think too much about it. Let’s take a rest for today in preparation for what’s gonna happen tomorrow. I’m going to sleep now, good night.

Shin: Eh?

Kino: Zz… Zz…

Shin: —And he’s asleep already.

The chance of him coming back, hm… ? I really hope he will.

(But I do feel a little bit lighter all of the sudden now)

(When we first joined hands with each other I thought he’d only be a pretty troublesome person…)

(And despite that, maybe Kino and I could get unexpectedly along with each other)

[morphinethevaccine]

Would you want to be their roommate? (ADA Edition)

a/n: In which you're the roommate of various Armed Detective Agency members. I'm only like, half serious.

  — Dazai Osamu Boundaries? I don't know her.

Rule #1 of rooming with Dazai is understand he's a hypocrite. While he's 100% the type to read your diary, eat your snacks with zero intention of replacing them and take your stuff without asking, he does not want the favor returned. 

Honestly, Dazai prefers to have his own space. Having a roommate makes it a little hard to engage in some of his more reckless endeavors, like ignoring warning labels to mix bleach and ammonia, trying to inhale oven fumes, and womanizing (its not like he usually brings people back to his place anyway because he isn’t keen on people knowing where he lives, but the point still stands). 

Just pay little mind to the fact your toaster is missing because he tried (and failed) to drop it in the bathtub with him. Again.

— Atsushi Nakajima and Kyouka Izumi I feel a sitcom coming on.

Moving in with a stoic former murder turned do-gooder and the traumatized orphan with a self worth problem too many sounds like a scriptwriting fever dream. But hey, a positive: no matter how screwy your background is, you don't have to feel like the weird one. 

Quirks aside, neither makes a bad roommate: Atsushi is thoughtful, caring, and marginally domestic, while Kyouka minds her business by staying out the way for the most part. 

Considering the bizarre makeup of the occupants, people might look at the three of you and wonder how you manage to coexist. Maybe the three of you can even be the wholesome version of Three's Company, complete with regular misunderstandings that could have easily been avoided had someone just been more forthcoming.

— Doppo Kunikida Is this really how you want to live your life?

Has his lights on timer and 'quiet hours' he sticks to religiously. Organized to a 'T': you putting things back in the incorrect place or leaving a jar on the wrong shelf in the pantry is going to give him a tension headache. 

Definitely shouldn't be the residence of choice for messy people, those inept at reading social cues (who in turn won't know when to shut up and leave him alone), or anyone with an alternative sleep pattern. Will not hesitate to tell you off if you're running the microwave at 2 am. 

A great place for routine addicts or wayward souls in need of someone to beat order and structure into their head-- sometimes literally, but for the non-anal retentive, this is probably the closest form of spiritual suicide on this side of heaven. 

— Jun'ichiro Tanizaki and Naomi Tanizaki For those who don't value their mental health.

At first glance, not a bad place to stay. Jun'ichiro’s a solid cook, gives off everyman/boy-next-door vibes and is relatively sane (unless Naomi's in danger). Naomi's nice enough and likely a fun person to hang around assuming she's not glued to her brother's side. 

But don't get too excited just yet. Both tend to be fine, if not enjoyable to interact with individually, but the main problem with rooming with this pair is having to stomach them together. 

Imagine listening to these two doting on each other. All the time. Hearing that day after day is going to shave at least 10 years off your total lifespan, give or take. I suppose you can invest in earplugs and work on expanding your happy place, but is it really worth it?

— Ranpo Edogawa   Roommates? I think you misspelled 'parent and child’

Expect to hear "Great Detectives don't do (insert thing he should definitely be doing)" often. Could be a great roommate if he applied himself, but his laziness tends to delve into 'hand me the remote even though it's an inch from my fingertips' territory. 

Don't expect him to know how to use the garbage disposal or run the dishwasher (or be apologetic about either fact). Can't be trusted to buy groceries: his contributions are just the entirety of the snack aisle: Twizzlers, Mike and Ike's and this color changing drink he found at the convenience store. 

Pushes off things he should be doing (like his laundry) on you because 'you're washing clothes anyway' and has the frustrating tendency to only 'deduce' things you really don't want him to, like why your girlfriend or boyfriend broke up with you. 

— Akiko Yosano Not too bad, actually.

While Yosano might come across intimidating, she's largely harmless to the average joe or jane. Unless you piss her off, she has little reason to saw off any of your extremities. 

Generally speaking, she’s a normal roommate who respects your personal space (and expects the same in return, so please do the same if you value your life) and takes care of her portion of shared responsibilities without issue. Yosano isn't argumentative, but she's not one to bite her tongue, either. 

So if you're looking for a roommate who's not going to call you out if you're on some bullshit, Yosano is not that roommate. As long as you pull your weight and aren't unusually annoying, the two of you can manage a cordial relationship with minimal threats and/or bloodshed.

— Kenji Miyazawa Prepare yourself for a host of weird proverbs.

Has a 50/50 chance of calling you 'roomie' ("Because that's what city people say, right?") or something else mildly irritating. As the literal personification of its not that deep, it's pretty impossible to get him upset, which is great news for you-- just in case you happen to be the annoying one in this scenario. 

Kenji's probably the most laidback roommate of the ADA roster, who wouldn’t fight you for ownership of the larger bedroom or get salty if you monopolize the bathroom.

Bonus points if you happen to find his often bizarre stories about life in the country entertaining rather than disturbing (said stories are always told with a smile no matter how screwed up they are, of course, because this is Kenji.) Overall, not a bad person to have as a roommate unless positivity and blind optimism tend to give you hives.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 14)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader Word Count: 6039 Warnings: fluff, light angst, mentions of cheating

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Major cringe warning everyone.. I can’t wait for your reactions! 😂 A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated! 

PART 13 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Bucky pulls off his headphones, pressing a finger to the keyboard to stop the music he’s reviewing, taking a moment to pinch between his brows. He gets up to stretch his legs, grabbing the empty beer bottle along with him for the short walk to the kitchen. He tosses it in the garbage with the rest.

He doesn’t like drinking this much but lately he hasn’t been feeling great. His music has been stagnant, devoid of life and energy. Thinking about it only makes him feel worse, a painful reminder that deadlines are coming up and what little he’s created is absolute shit.

The knob squeaks as he turns the faucet, letting the water turn to liquid ice before he runs his hands through them, splashing it up against his face. He hears the hiss of the pipes next door and his heart sinks.

It’s Y/N’s shower. He looks towards the wall wondering if she’s alone, quickly shaking the thoughts out of his mind. He shouldn’t care if she’s alone or not. She’s in a relationship and it shouldn’t matter.

Bucky tried really hard to not think about her. He promised himself he would get out there and find someone and well, it hasn’t exactly worked out. In the last three weeks he’s been on a dozen dates. Most of the girls could barely hold a conversation, while the others were less exciting than watching paint dry.

He fucked a few of them even though he said he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the point of these dates but Bucky needed the distraction. It was hard hanging out with everyone, it didn’t matter if Y/N was there with Billy or if they were not; Bucky wasn’t sure what was worse.

Over the last few days he has been messaging someone new who’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping him entertained. Bobbi, she works at a gym Uptown. She’s worked extremely hard for her body and flaunts it in most of her photos and sure, Bucky would love to hit it but there’s something more that keeps him drawn in.

She’s so direct, talking to him as if they had known each other for years. He loves checking his phone to see her latest message, a smile already stretching across his face when he sees a long text about something that happened at the gym. Apparently a lot of characters workout there and she has an endless list of horror stories she couldn’t wait to share with him.

They planned a date for the end of the week and Bucky was very excited to finally meet her. It was promising, the idea that he could be happy with someone just like… just like everyone else.

You hug yourself a little tighter as you walk down the block, feeling the cool breeze move right through you. Billy seems to be in his own world, his head gazing down to his phone as it had been through most of dinner. You didn’t voice your annoyance though because it would only make things worse.

Billy’s been in a bad mood ever since the Feds came knocking at ANVIL’s door. A few former employees were recently involved in a string of armed robberies and Billy was questioned about it. Word got out and he lost a big account as a result.

Obviously the situation is upsetting but it’s not just that, Billy’s been distant lately. You’ve been spending a lot of time together but maybe that’s the problem, the honeymoon period might be over. You know it’s a normal part of any relationship but the idea that things could change so drastically doesn’t make you feel great.

“Hey watch where you’re going,” an unfamiliar voice barked.

Your head turned quickly to find Billy getting in the face of the stranger he apparently bumped into.

“What did you say to me?” Billy’s dark eyes sharpened like a bird of prey closing in on its target. His nostrils flared as he snarled, staring down the other man until he backed away with his tail between his legs. Billy looked him up and down, a smug smile creeping across his face in silent victory.

A heavy arm fell around your shoulders as Billy pulled you closer to him when he began walking away.

“What the hell was that?” you asked after a long beat of silence.

He faced you with the same incredulity he gave the man before. “That was people knowing better than to get in my way.”

Your stomach churned with unease and that silent alarm inside you was going off. You needed to get away from Billy, for tonight at least. By the time you got to the front of your building you figured out an excuse you hoped would work.

“Hey so, I promised Elena I would head in early tomorrow. Paperwork’s been piling up and medical records have been on our case about it. So, can we raincheck this?” You smiled, using your best doe eyes to seem sincere about it.

Billy stared you down, looking for the slightest crack in your expression. It was something he had always done, reading people, checking for lies. You know it’s a product of his upbringing, with so many broken promises made by a faulty system.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s fine,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember I got us Knicks tickets.”

You nodded in agreement, gasping slightly when he caught you off guard by his kiss. It was the last thing on your mind but you gave in, opening your mouth to his forceful tongue. Anything to keep up appearances, for tonight.

Billy watched you enter the building and you waved back at him right before you disappeared for the hallway, finally able to take a breath. On the way up to your floor you wondered if you should talk to Wanda about what happened. It was kind of late though and even though she would want to hear everything about it you didn’t want to disturb her.

As you approached your door you looked towards Bucky’s. Maybe he could give some advice from the male perspective. Then again you didn’t want to bother him either. Bucky’s also been pretty distant lately and you’ve barely seen him in the past month. Maybe everything’s changed, your relationship, your friendships. Change is supposed to be good but this felt all wrong.

You couldn’t find a comfortable spot on your bed, tossing and turning, kicking off the covers, pulling them back up again. Nothing seemed right. There was too much on your mind and you couldn’t relax.

“Shut up brain, just shut up!” you begged out loud, grabbing your phone to find something to distract yourself.

Scrolling through your playlists you tried to find one that wouldn’t give you the urge to stay up and sing along, and then you stopped on the perfect one. It was Bucky’s playlist, Greatest Cinema Scores. Grabbing your headphones you laid your head back on the pillow as John Williams carried you to dreamland.

You groan, rolling over to one side. It’s still dark out. You don’t want to look at your phone but you give in anyway. Two in the morning. At least you still had a few more hours of sleep. Your stomach spasms forcing you to get up, hurrying your paces to the bathroom because the weird rumbling has you convinced you might not make it in time.

It’s five past two in the morning when all hell breaks loose. Hell translating to everything you’ve eaten this evening coming up and out of you from both ends. It’s not pretty. Tears are streaming down your face as you puke into the garbage can you’re rapidly filling, trying to catch your breath in between painful heaves. The other end isn’t much better, hot liquid expelling itself from your body; stomach cramps, body spasms all doing their part to add to the mess.

Ten minutes pass by the time it’s safe to leave the bathroom. Your throat burns with the remnants of vomit, your ass is on fire and you curl back into bed, brushing aside the tears from the corner of your eyes. Your reprieve is short lived as your stomach grumbles again and you rush across your apartment, giving yourself over to the porcelain throne.

More comes out of you than you’ve taken in and you wonder about the science of it all. When will it stop? Dinner was simple, a glass of wine, a small house salad, chicken parm and some vegetables that come out whole as you peer into the soupy garbage held out in front of you. A whiff of the stench makes you gag again setting off another round of vomiting.

Everything hurts. Tears burn hot against your skin as you cry alone, half naked and in need of a shower at this point to clean yourself up. Elvis died on the toilet, is that how you’re gonna go too? It seems entirely possible at this point.

By the time the sun begins to peak out through the large buildings you’ve exhausted your body of all its worth. You’re shaking as you change into clean pajamas, crawling back into bed, barely having the strength to raise your phone to your ear as you leave a message for Elena, telling her you won’t be able to make it in today.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, not when you’re still getting out of bed every hour to get rid of every part of your insides. Isn’t it out of you already? You think back to dinner and the slightly pink chicken you thought at the time was your imagination or bad lighting. Dammit.

You text Billy, telling him you have food poisoning, hoping his seafood and linguine didn’t leave him in the same position you were currently in. After the hundredth trip to the bathroom you opened up your fridge looking for something. You squirm as you look at the orange juice, however tempting it is the acid would probably burn through you. Your mouth waters looking at the forbidden food, aka anything that isn’t a plain cracker. Do you have any of those? Nope. How is it possible you don’t have a single thing you could possibly eat?

The trek across your apartment and back to your bed seems like it went on for miles and now you shake with chills, wrapping yourself up in the blanket as you text Wanda begging for her to come over with Gatorade, ginger ale and crackers.

You whimper out loud as you feel your stomach gurgling, it wants another round versus the toilet where you’re going to lose. By the time you come out again you’re sweating, shaking on weak legs as you cry yourself to sleep.

In another hour you’ve woken up, thankful for the returned text that she would come by before heading to work. After your latest round in the bathroom you trudge to the front door unlocking it, and move to your couch where you plop face down. You text Wanda, telling her the door is open, and try to shut your eyes until the inevitable happens. Because you know it’s going to happen again. For some reason you’ve been cursed and there’s nothing you can do about it but suffer.

You aren’t sure of how much time has passed but you hear your door opening, bags rustling in hand and the tiniest smile spreads across your face.

“Wandaaa, my butthole hurts,” you whined, lifting your head up off the couch slightly to groan even more. “It’s like a volcano that’s erupting hot brown lava. There’s so much of it Wan. It won’t stop. My ass is vomiting shit.”

“Wow Y/N, that’s quite a visual.”

Oh no. Panic surges through you when you realize that was not Wanda’s voice. A weak arm pushes you up from the couch where you turn around to find Bucky somehow looking at you in the eye after he heard your very blunt confession.

You’re stunned into silence, not knowing what to say because you had just said far too much than you ever wanted to. Suddenly you feel nauseous again but for a different reason.

Bucky shifted one of the bags he was holding into his other hand so he could send a small wave in your direction, trying not to burst out laughing as he said, “Hey neighbor.”

“B-Bucky, what are you doing here?” you asked, sinking back down onto the couch because you couldn’t support yourself anymore.

“Wanda texted me, said she wasn’t able to get these to you before work.” He set the bags down, walking closer to you and crouching down by the couch. “Are you okay?”

Your head shook a little before you answered. “No. I think I’m dying. I’m puking up my organs.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones?” he chuckled.

“My intestines, definitely my stomach… maybe a kidney or two.”

He cracked a beautiful smile that somehow made you feel better just by looking at it. Bucky reached the back of his hand out to feel your forehead. You were a little warm but you didn’t feel feverish.

“Well I’m here now and I brought all the good stuff you need. Will you let me help you?”

Tears filled your eyes as you replied, and Bucky smiled again. He emptied the bags in your kitchen, taking out a bottle of ginger ale, Gatorade, crackers and some instant white rice.

“How about a little ginger ale to settle your stomach, yeah?”

Bucky brought over a glass that was less than half filled. Sitting next to you, he helped you sit up and you waited for the room to stop spinning before you took a few small sips as he told you to. Your hand was shaking and Bucky took the glass from you before you spilled it.

You didn’t think a few sips of ginger ale would be a magical cure but you wished it would. You felt so shitty… which seemed fitting, but it really wasn’t funny. You leaned against Bucky, closing your eyes as you sighed in frustration. It was comforting to feel his arm around you, and hear his whispers that everything would be okay.

“Are you nauseous? Do you need to…”

“I just don’t feel good,” you cried against him.

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, wishing there was something more he could do for you. When Wanda texted him he had shot right up, threw on clothes and raced to the store. He wished you had asked him, that you were as close as you used to be but he understands why you might not have wanted him to know.

The briefest thought about Billy crosses his mind. Did you tell him? Was he going to come in and take care of you? Would you shove Bucky aside if he did? But Billy isn’t here, and Billy isn’t important. Right now this is about you and doing whatever he can to help.

“Hey doll, do you want to try and eat something?”

You barely process the nickname as you think about how your stomach is feeling. It’s still too early to try and eat so instead you ask for some Gatorade, hoping that might make you feel a little better.

Bucky brings it back, along with a wet washcloth he places on your neck, feeling your skin prickle at his touch as he moves aside the collar of your shirt. It’s a nice relief for the short while it lasts. You head back to the bathroom again but at least you didn’t vomit this time. You’re thankful since you’re really not sure you have the strength to even handle throwing up anymore.

Back on the couch you lay your head down on Bucky’s thigh, curling your body into a fetal position as he lays a throw blanket over you. You don’t realize when you’ve fallen asleep but you wake up at some time later to find the sky is lit in a golden glow of the afternoon sun. Bucky assists you with sitting up, helping you quell the dizziness with more sips of Gatorade and ginger ale.

You feel brave enough to eat, hoping that one single cracker will not send you back on the hell ride through your digestive tract. Bucky can’t help but smile as you nibble on the cracker slowly like a hamster.

“What did you eat that got you sick?” he wondered.

“New Italian place on 23rd and 8th. Bad chicken. I mean, I thought it was good at the time but I don’t think I’ll be going back again.”

“Good to know. I’m gonna cancel my plans tonight,” he said, digging his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, definitely go somewhere else.”

“No, I’m cancelling the whole date.”

Your head spun as you turned it too fast to face Bucky. “You have a date tonight?”

His head shook before he began speaking. “Nope, not anymore. I want to stay here and take care of you.” You began to protest but Bucky insisted. “Y/N, I really want to do this. Please, let me help you.”

The fluttering in your stomach made you wonder if you needed to rush to the bathroom again but it didn’t feel the same as before. Instead you smiled softly, thankful to have Bucky’s kindness. It was nice to know someone wanted to take care of you.

In the moment you scanned the table for your phone, remembering the text you sent out this morning. Billy still hadn’t replied. Maybe he’s sick too or maybe… well you don’t have the energy to think otherwise at the moment.

Your mouth is watering, craving anything and everything that you can’t have. Even the drinks have to be sipped slowly otherwise you’ll set your stomach off again. It’s so unfair. Why is this happening? And why is every commercial food related?

“Bucky, can you change the channel?” you begged.

He switched it to a show about animals, that’s fine, that’s… not fine. The TV shows a raccoon eating delicious red grapes and you feel the tears begin to flood your eyes. You huff against Bucky’s leg, not bothering to change the channel because there was no point. You couldn’t eat and you probably never will again. Was that being dramatic? Maybe, but right now you’re not in the mood to think sensibly.

“I feel bad askin’ but is it okay if I order food? I know you can’t have any and I really don’t want to make this worse for ya.”

Bucky is staring at you with big blue eyes, hoping his small request isn’t too much of an offence at the moment. You almost wanted to say no but you couldn’t, it’s not Bucky’s fault you ate bad chicken.

“Pizza? Really?” you whined after he placed his order.

His eyes grew big with panic and he was about to call back and cancel his order before you stopped him.

“No, no. I’m sorry Bucky. It doesn’t matter what you eat, I’m gonna want everything so enjoy yourself.”

You pouted, grabbing the throw blanket to pull it over your shoulder as you adjusted your position of resting on his leg, shutting your eyes until he got up to answer the door when the pizza arrived.

“That smells really good,” you said, frowning as Bucky opened the box.

He was hesitant to take a bite, feeling guilty as you looked at him. “Can I make you anything? Think you could handle some rice?”

Your head shook and you took out another single cracker, chewing on it slowly as Bucky sat down beside you with a few slices.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. And when you’re up for it let’s get pizza. We still haven’t kept our promise.” Bucky’s mouth dropped open in response to your confused face. “Our pizza quest! Remember? Eat our way through the city to find the best pizza!”

“Oh yeah!” You smiled for the first time, bright and beaming across your face and Bucky was happy he was able to bring that out in you. “We definitely have to do that.”

The night continued with Bucky putting on Galaxy Quest for you both to watch. Halfway through the movie you went back to the bathroom, missing a call from Billy. Bucky couldn’t help but look over as your phone buzzed, seeing a picture of you and Billy smiling together.

A moment later a text came through and he knew he shouldn’t read it but he couldn’t help himself. Bucky looked towards the bathroom to check that you weren’t about to come out before he grabbed your phone, reading Billy’s text.

Billy: Wtf Y/N where are you? Did you remember the basketball game?

Bucky placed your phone back on the coffee table, remembering to unclench his jaw as your bathroom door opened. What an asshole. He didn’t even ask how you were.

“Your phone rang,” Bucky reluctantly said as you sat down again.

He watched as you read the text, typing back furiously. Another buzz and you were responding to Billy again, your face getting angrier the longer the back and forth messaging went on.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” you said, tossing your phone on the table. “Let’s put the movie on.”

You got comfortable against Bucky, ignoring the buzz of your phone. The texts didn’t stop coming in and you tried your best to ignore it and pay attention to the movie but Bucky could clearly see you were upset.

“You can answer that if you need to.”

“I really don’t want to. Billy’s so concerned about wasting money on tickets, not once has he even mentioned the fact that I’m sick. Did he not get my messages?”

Bucky bit his tongue, not wanting to say something he might end up regretting, especially if this isn’t the end of you and Billy like he hoped. Why would he hope that? He’s dating now. Or at least he thought he was.

He cancelled his date with Bobbi tonight without hesitation, just so he could take care of you. She seemed cool about it, asking if he was free tomorrow and Bucky agreed to another date but the longer you stay curled up beside him the less interest he has in wanting to see anyone.

The warmth of your body against his lulled Bucky into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable, slumped on the couch in a mostly sitting position but he didn’t want to move, not when you had fallen asleep before him. You were exhausted from everything you went through so your sleep was more important to him than the cramp that developed in his neck overnight.

You woke up, slowly opening your eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as you realized you weren’t in your bed but on the couch resting your head against Bucky. You watched the rise and fall of his stomach through the soft sweater he wore, the one that most certainly left tiny marks on your cheek from leaning against it.

Looking up at Bucky you smiled at the way his head was tilted to the side, eyes shut peacefully as small puffs of breath left his mouth. You thought about everything Bucky had done for you, what was supposed to be a simple task of dropping off ginger ale and crackers turned into his whole day being rearranged just to take care of you.

You wanted to do something nice for him in return, it’s something you’ll have to think about when your head’s not as light as it feels. Slowly you begin to sit up, taking a few sips of Gatorade from the bottle that was left on the table. You feel… better but still not great.

It’s daring but you aim to eat two crackers, hoping it won’t set off your stomach. It was grumbling with hunger but you knew better than to give in with actual food even though you were craving pancakes.

After sitting up for a while you didn’t think you felt dizzy anymore so you got up slowly. You felt the weakness in your legs as they carried you across the room but at least your trip to the bathroom was normal. A regular pee was a lot better than everything else that came out of you yesterday.

“G’morning,” Bucky said mid-yawn as you opened the door, seeing his sweater rise up to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach as he stretched his arms out.

“Morning Bucky.” You smiled as you made your way beside him again, reaching your arm across his stomach as you settled back against him, nuzzling your head on his chest.

Bucky loved this but absolutely hated that he needed to use the bathroom and therefore ruin the way you cuddled up against him. “I’m sorry doll. I’ll be quick,” he said, rushing up off the couch.

Doll. You liked that nickname. It was a little on the old fashioned side but it was endearing. Billy called you babe which was fine and all but it definitely didn’t have the same effect as doll. The thought of Billy made you roll your eyes. You would have to speak to him today but you really didn’t want to.

“Alright, where were we?”

Bucky’s voice rang out as he opened the door, walking back towards the couch. He moved his neck from side to side to crack it before he sat down again, letting you cozy up to him.

“How’re you feelin’ today?”

“Better. I think I might try some rice later.”

“Just let me know and I’ll make it.” There was no hesitation in his offer, just pure tenderness in wanting you to get better.

The morning was spent cuddling on the couch until Bucky’s stomach began grumbling worse than yours. He got up to make himself something while you insisted you weren’t ready for anything more than crackers and ginger ale yet.

“I’m gonna take your garbage out and head home for a quick shower. You think you’ll be okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bucky.”

He was thankful you didn’t tell him not to come back. You seemed much better than yesterday and you probably didn’t need him but Bucky really didn’t want to leave. Sure he had work to do but this was more important. He wouldn’t have been able to get you off his mind anyway so he might as well be useful.

During Bucky’s absence you debated talking to Billy, knowing it would probably end up in a fight but you didn’t have the strength to do that yet. Besides, you hadn’t done anything wrong so there is no need for you to be chasing him down.

With the little energy you had you decided to freshen up. While splashing your face with some water you noticed the broken blood vessels in your eyes, the result of straining so much to throw up. Fun stuff.

It was a bit of a struggle to get undressed and changed into new pajamas and you had to lay down in your bed before the room stopped spinning. Thankfully Bucky had come back and was able to help you.

He handed the glass of Gatorade to you, rubbing slow circles of comfort on your back that seemed so natural for him.

“You need to eat something Y/N. Think you’re up for some rice now?” he asked softly, gazing at you with concern as he awaited your answer. You gave a simple nod and Bucky leapt up to get it started.

The burn of tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about Bucky. He was so eager to make sure you were okay, taking out your garbage that was filled with various bags full of vomit without hesitation, spending every minute of his weekend just to take care of you. He even cancelled a date.

Something inside your stomach twisted at the thought of Bucky actually dating someone. It’s not like him sleeping with someone was a surprise to you but apparently in the last month you’ve drifted apart from him, unaware he had started to date people instead of just sleeping with them. You’re not so sure why this makes you feel so… well, you’re not really sure how you feel about it but you know you feel something.

None of this should matter though. You have been dating someone for two months. Someone you thought you loved but this past weekend has taught you a lot about Billy. Not only has his change in demeanor put you off but the fact that he hasn’t shown any concern for you over this weekend really makes you want to end your relationship.

Bucky happily brought over a small bowl of white rice. There wasn’t much in there to begin with but you could only manage a few teaspoons before you had to stop. The worst part of it all is that you were so hungry but you really couldn’t eat much, and certainly couldn’t chance upsetting your stomach anymore no matter how badly you wanted to shovel the rice down your mouth.

The afternoon was spent on your couch again, cuddled up against Bucky as you continued to watch movies. His arm was around your shoulder and occasionally you felt his hand rub up and down over the curve of your arm. You smiled against him, letting yourself enjoy however long you could have Bucky like this.

In the back of your mind you thought about him dating again. Whoever he ends up with would be the luckiest girl ever, to have someone as kind and caring as Bucky take care of them as he has been with you. You chew on your bottom lip remembering the shared kiss on New Year’s Eve. Yeah, it was safe to say you would be completely jealous of any girl that ends up with him.

While attempting to have a little more rice you watched Bucky respond to his phone that had gone off a few times. It was hard not to glance over at him, imagining what pretty girl he was probably talking to.

What you didn’t know was Bucky was talking to a girl, Bobbi, cancelling the plans they had rescheduled for today. He didn’t bother to reschedule again and Bucky knew it was stupid not to but somehow the weekend he’s spent on your couch made him lose all enthusiasm for dating someone. Logic tried to reason with him, remind him that you were in a relationship but it was hard to deny the way he felt about you, how he’s been feeling for a long time now.

Bucky can’t stop staring at you, watching as you finish up the rice from earlier. He’s hated seeing you in pain but being able to help you this weekend has been such an honor.

As the sun set you realized you were not at all prepared to go back to work tomorrow. You probably could use another day off but since you weren’t throwing up anymore you wanted to at least give it a shot. Besides, Tony had been relying on you a lot recently with the logistics of getting The September Foundation prepared and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

“I need to take a shower.” As you stood up you felt a little dizzy and Bucky had his arms around you just in case. After a moment of a few deep breaths you felt a little better. “I’m okay,” you assured him.

Bucky didn’t quite believe that so he poured more Gatorade and handed you the glass.

“I’m not leaving you.” Bucky wiped his hand down his face realizing how forceful that sounded. “I mean, I won’t leave until you get out okay? I don’t want you to slip and fall or anything.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case but now I feel like I’ve jinxed myself,” you joked. Having Bucky hear your vivid description of shitting was bad enough, you really didn’t want him to find you passed out in the shower.

Bucky lowered the volume of the TV to barely above mute, wanting to listen out for anything out of the ordinary. He heard the shower turn on and a minute later the curtain pulling as you stepped in.

A text from Sam pulled his attention away from listening and he opened the message, his jaw clenched as he scanned the photo attached. It was Billy, with his arm around another girl. She was short with dark hair pulled into a bun, dressed professionally and Bucky questioned if he was jumping the gun at thinking the worst. Maybe she worked with Billy or maybe it was his sister.

The next text that came through proved his theories wrong. Sam captioned the picture of Billy kissing the girl with “Asshole.”

Bucky: I’m with Y/N now. She’s been sick all wknd I don’t think she knows about this.

Sam: Do you want to tell her or should I have Wanda come by? She’s ready to rip his head off.

Bucky: So am I Bucky: Fuck. Bucky: idk maybe Wanda should talk to her?

There was nothing Bucky wanted more than to tell you what an asshole Billy was but he didn’t want to be accused of using it to his advantage in any way. Bucky would be there with everyone else to support you through this but as a friend only. You deserved better than Billy no matter who you ended up with.

“Bucky!”

The sound of your voice in distress makes him pop up from the couch. He runs to the door, fear coursing through his veins as he hopes you’re okay. Inside the steamy bathroom he finds your head poking out through the shower curtain, the rest of it pulled close to your body not to reveal yourself.

“I forgot to grab a towel,” you said, smiling. “They’re over there.” A bare arm slick with water points behind him and he grabs a towel from a shelf. “Thanks,” you said, taking it from him, watching as he nods awkwardly before shutting the door.

Bucky’s cheeks are flushed from the brief humidity and the sight of seeing you in the shower. Well, not that he saw anything but just the idea of it has his heart racing.

Ten minutes later and you were out of the bathroom, changed into new pajamas, these ones covered with a cute cactus print, brushing through your still wet hair.

Silence filled the room as you finished your post shower routine of putting on a variety of moisturizers and facial sprays and Bucky felt like he had overstayed his welcome. You were winding down even though it was still early, and truthfully he had a weekend’s worth of work to catch up on.

“So there’s more rice on the counter, plus an unopened bottle of ginger ale too, and if you need anything else you know where I live.” He chuckled uncomfortably at his bad joke. “Really though if you need me please call me okay? I’ll come running.”

He didn’t mean to sound so desperate but it was true.

“Thank you so much for everything Bucky.” You threw your arms around him for a hug, melting deeper into him as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Neither of you realized the other didn’t want to let go but you made the move to reluctantly pull apart. Bucky had spent his whole weekend doting on you, you didn’t want to force him to stay any longer.

Bucky smiled as he gazed upon you, the way your eyes shifted down before staring back up at him. He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead and a surge of electricity went racing through you. His kiss lingered and the longer he made contact with your skin the more you wanted to press your lips to his.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, walking away slowly towards the door.

Your heart was caught in your throat as you locked it behind him, letting out a deep, longing sigh, and the realization that you might have feelings for Bucky.

PART 15

[hopecountyisforlovers]

movie night;

rating: general

pairing: martin blackwood x xandyr jameson

words: 2273

summary: i sat down and said "i'm gonna write martin and xandyrs first kiss" and what i actually wrote is 2200 words of pining with one paragraph about kissing. #oops

----------x----------

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when Xan fell in love with Martin, in the same way it's hard to pinpoint the exact moment the sun rises in the morning. The more he thinks about it, all the most natural things in the universe seem to happen that way- in the spaces between blinks, when you aren't exactly paying attention.

Martin's makeshift bedroom smells like old papers and discarded academia, just like the rest of the Institute- and yet it's weaker here. Overshadowed by lemons and tea and raw sunshine. Xan fidgets, nervous- sometimes he cannot help but think that he is polluting this space just by being here. That it's an act of pure selfishness that he's here almost every night anyway. Stacks of unfiled something-or-other forms litter the floor of the dimly lit room, some with old rings from discarded cups of tea where he's clearly been using them as makeshift desks.

Xan swallows hard- his mouth is dry, his heart racing. He's considering leaving- considering telling Martin he's had an emergency and that he has to leave him alone in this dark, depressing place for the night. It'd hurt him in the moment, sure, and he'd hate himself for the look of shattering that would pass over his soft, round features- but it wouldn't hurt him as much in the long run, as much as if he found out the truth about him.

At least- that's what he tells himself. But like everything else about him, it's a lie. If he left.... leaving would be even more selfish than staying. Martin needs someone, now- and in his more extreme flights of fancy, he can sometimes delude himself into thinking that someone might be him.

Light floods into the room from outside as the door opens- Martin smiles at him, all freckles and white teeth and fluorescents reflecting joyfully off his round glasses, and Xan would swear on all the things that were holy the light was coming directly from him. Had he really been thinking about leaving just a second ago? He's pushing a small cart with an ancient TV atop it, sitting squatly on the haunches of an equally-as-ancient VHS player. And of course- two cups of tea, adorning either side of the cart like decorations. Underneath is a tray of cupcakes, on top of a stack of assorted tapes- had he made them or bought them? Xan doesn't think he would care if he was trying to poison him with them.

"S-sorry I'm so late! I thought, well- it's a bit boring in here, with nothing to really uh, do-" He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, "So I thought we could, er- put on a movie or two! I mean, if you want. If not, well, I could take it back, or-"

Xan shakes his head rapidly in denial- not because he cares particularly whether or not they put on a movie, but because he doesn't want him to leave. "A few movies sounds....nice. As long as they aren't, uh...cursed videotapes, o-or something. Knowing this place...." His attempt at humor falls only a bit flat as blue eyes go wide behind thick frames- as if Martin himself was just now considering that the Institute might house cursed videotapes. Xan can't help but laugh a little at the owlish expression. Martin's eyes narrow playfully.

"Havin' a laugh at me, are you? Cheeky bugger," a laugh shakes his broad shoulders, "Keep it up and I won't share any of these cupcakes!"

Xan knows hes bluffing in the same instant he knows he won't call him on it- sharing is to Martin what breathing is to most other people. It might actually kill him to eat a full tray of cupcakes while someone watched. He messily pantomimes zipping his lips closed in a way he hopes looks natural, although he can feel he's still smiling. The door closes behind Martin as he hands him his cup of tea, still steaming hot, and turns to the old television, flipping it on and lighting up the room in a bright blue. Xan sips his tea as he watches him fiddle with the dials and controls. Luckily for them both, it seems like the VHS player is already pre-hooked up to the television.

"What kind of movies do you like?" The question catches him off guard, makes his heart beat faster out of anxiety as opposed to anything pleasant. It occurs to him that he has no answer for this question- he can't even remember if he's ever seen a film before.

"Ah- All kinds! I-it is your room! We should watch, uh..whatever... whatever you want!" It's said too quickly, with a layer of fear that's hard to shake, but Martin doesn't seem to notice. Instead he's looking at him like he's given him a gift- his heart stops all together, twists like it's being wrung out.

"Whatever I want? Really?"

This man is going to be the death of him.

Xan nods as he sips his tea, even though it burns his mouth a bit. It's something to do with his mouth besides further dig himself into a hole, in any case. "Whatever you want!"

"O-okay! But don't... laugh, alright?" He pulls a VHS out of the stack underneath the cupcakes, and displays it for him to see- on the front cover of the box, an attractive women is in a loving embrace with an attractive man. The blurbs on the box promote it as being "heartwarming" and "the love story of our generation". He doesn't laugh, but he does smile- has he stopped smiling since Martin came in the room? He thinks it should start to hurt at some point, being this happy, but it never does- not his face, anyway, and not while it's happening. It's so typically the kind of thing Martin might watch that he feels like he could have guessed, when presented with the stack.

"I know, I know, it's a...well. A bit of a ladies picture, but..." His face flushes a high enough pink to be visible even through the cerulean light of the television that slants over his features. Xandyr's tea shakes in his hands and he has to drink another long sip to make sure it doesn't spill. It tastes sweet on his tongue, like syrup and honey, so cloying it threatens to choke him- just the way he likes it. "It's one of my favorites! I- I promise it's quite good!"

He trusts him implicitly, with a lot more than their choice of movies to watch- a knife through his chest, reminding him what he's doing is wrong. Martin cannot trust him implicitly in turn- there is nothing within him to be trusted in.

Martin pops the movie into the VHS player, which makes a whirring sound as if it is oh-so-put-upon by the task of having to do its job. For all Xan knows, it might be. It looks older than both of them put together. But it accepts the movie, beginning to play previews and coming soon featurettes that look much crisper than he expected they would. A warmth against his thigh snaps him out of staring at the TV screen- Martin has sat down next to him on his bed, a cup of tea in hand and the tray of cupcakes placed across both of their laps, and in the space underneath it their legs are touching.

Xandyr reaches for a cupcake. They're frosted through a spectrum of greens- dark and light and pale pastel. It reminds him of his other life, of light through the trees and moss on the trunks. Of being hunted and hunting in turn. Of falling asleep in bars of sunlight. He shoves it into his mouth, again too fast, and after he has made far too much of an embarrassing show of chewing and swallowing the whole thing at the same time he realizes that Martin is staring at him expectantly, a nervous and excited air about him that shimmers in bright blue eyes, so so close to his face now- too close.

Not close enough.

"What- What do you think?"

"I think I love y-" Xandyr bites his tongue, hard enough that he can taste blood even through thick frosting. What had he almost said? Holy shit. "I, ahaha, think I love them! I mean, I know! I do! Love them! Great cupcakes, Martin, really!"

"If you don't like them, that's-"

"No, I really do! I swear!" He makes a show out of taking another one, taking a bite this time instead of shoving it into his face like the wild animal he only barely feels like he still isn't. Martin's expression becomes unguarded all at once, that smile settling in place over his features again. Up this close, Xandyr can see every individual freckle that dots his cheeks, the stubble that lines his jawline where he hasn't shaved lately. He has to stop looking at him- has to- he feels like he's bound to be blinded any second now, like staring at something so perfect has to have far-reaching cosmic consequences- but all at once he understands why so many societies worshiped the sun and burned out their eyes in devotion to it.

In the end, Martin turns away from him, facing the TV screen that's now 5 or so minutes into the movie he had put in. He unwraps a cupcake, taking a bite, and makes a sound analogous to a hum, and Xandyr finishes off his own and follows him in repeating the process.

30 or so minutes in, teacups are pushed aside, emptied of their contents. Martin's leg is still touching his own under the tray. The cupcakes serve as a pleasant distraction- if he doesn't distract himself, he's sure he'll lose his mind. He nibbles at them, making them last. The man and the woman onscreen have clear chemistry- at least, he thinks they do. What would he know about it, other than that he wants to see them together?

About an hour. The couple is on a date. Love shines in their eyes. He couldn't tell anyone how they got there if his life depended on it- Martin's shoulder is pressed against his own now, sucking the breaths from his lungs. With the exception of laying down to sleep at night, they've never been this close. It feels.. different. More... intentional. More significant. Like a declaration of something it couldn't be.

Xan reaches for another cupcake, another distraction, but is intercepted by warmth under his fingertips instead, by an electric shock that jerks his head towards Martin like it was on a swivel. He's looking at him again, and he can tell by the look on his face that he felt that too. Xandyr feels heat rush to his face and dread stir in his stomach. It felt so good- better than anything he had ever felt. He couldn't have any more of it. He so desperately wanted more of it. Martin is looking at him like...

Like he wants more, too.

It's impossible, isn't it? And even if it wasn't impossible... even if the feeling that pours from blue eyes and washes over him like warm rain is genuine- he shouldn't, can't encourage it. It'd be unforgivable, to encourage him to fall into a void.

And yet.....

"Martin..." He whispers, and it is as much a plea as it is a warning and a confession. Don't come any closer. Please come closer. I'm going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. I love you. Run away.

Their fingers are locked together- when did that happen? Why does it feel like they were made to? His head swims with dizzy sensation.

He leans in, artless, uncoordinated- he's never kissed anyone before but all he can think about is Martin's lips, parted as they are with the weight of longing. He can feel his breath, can taste it in the air, sweet like frosting and then some, and he is so, so close-

"Wait, wait wait wait!" Martin pulls away with a panicky tint to his voice, and Xan is sure for a heart shattering, relief filled moment that he's done something wrong. That Martin will never speak to him again. It's what's best for him. He can't stand the thought of it.

But he simply slips his round glasses down off the edge of his nose, folding them and placing them safely by his empty teacup, and smiles that beatific smile, leaning back in close.

"Didn't want them to- ah- to get in the way..." For the second time tonight, his tone and mannerisms are sheepish.

Xan can't help himself- the distance between them disappears in a flash, mouths melding together in a mingling of sugar so sweet it makes his teeth ache and his chest ache and his stomach hurt. This is the pain he was waiting for; It's the best pain he's ever felt. His traitor hand combs through fluffy, soft blonde hair, catching on the hair pretty holding his ponytail in and combing it out effortlessly- and to his own surprise, a hand winds into his own hair, pulling at him feverishly. Kissing Martin is all he imagined it would be- soft and gentle curves melding to him in all the right ways, with an edge of what he didn't expect- a desperation to him that mirrors his own.

What he's done, what he's doing, is unforgivable- it flutters through his bloodstream, alternating lighter than air butterflies and the crushing weight of a hundred lead balloons.

He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Peach and Pear

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I woke up the other morning and wrote this story before getting up for the day. It’s set in a place here in New Zealand and I’m really proud of this little world I randomly created.

Word count: 2945

Once upon a time, there was a little peach that lost his way for the first time. The peach had always been a very successful fruit, doing many things each day to become one of the best peaches around. He was strong and healthy and he was full of talents. A lot of the other fruit admired him a great deal--

“Then why did he get lost?” a curious, high-pitched voice asked, and before you could continue with the story, someone else did for you.

“He woke up and realised he was tired of being successful because he did so much each day,” your husband Jinyoung answered, walking over to you and your daughter, who scooted out from under the blankets you had just tucked her under to reach out her little limbs towards her father. Sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from you, Jinyoung pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of her crown affectionately.

“You know this story too, Daddy?!”

“Oh yes,” he replied, shooting you a look. “Who do you think told Mummy about it?”

“I want to hear what the peach did next!” she exclaimed and you cleared your throat to continue the story.

Jinyoung laid there, unmoving, as the alarm continued to shrill around the room. Normally he would turn it off and roll back over, knowing he had a second one set for when he truly had to be out of his bed. Yet, when that one sounded as well after the first one had gone on for too long and given up, he still didn’t rush out from under the blankets.

For the first time in a long while, he felt unmotivated.

He had business meetings and English lessons to attend today. Not to mention, his daily swimming practice was waiting for him to start the day. He would then head into the office, working until six precisely, where he would go out for dinner with a client who was investing more into his company. Afterwards, he was expected to hit up the gym for leg day, and finally wind up back here, finalising any paperwork before reading another chapter in a self-improvement book and go to bed by eleven.

And then the day would repeat, usually with some variation to the workday, but still with the continued structure that he expected from himself each day.

Today, however, he didn’t care for any of it.

Jinyoung wanted a break. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t follow the same continuous pattern that all around him had come to rely on. He was too predictable now, twenty-six and thriving as a businessman, successful enough to have his name in the tabloids often as a measure that many others in the industry strived to match. No one had expected the handsome man to create such a storm at his age, let alone at all. Yet the proof was in the pudding, or in Jinyoung’s case, his relentless endeavour to create a stable and solid life plan for him and his company.

Whilst he had worked tirelessly on building the foundation of his business, his university pals were off taking in the world. Mark had gone snowboarding at every well-known skiing resort, and Jackson was in America promoting Team Wang whilst collaborating with top names on every country’s celebrity list. Jaebum had travelled to Europe to learn more about the way music was produced there and BamBam was never in the same continent for too long, having fun being young and rich. Even Youngjae and Yugyeom had found themselves leaving this place to find better horizons. Only Jinyoung had stayed.

He wasn’t bitter that he had chosen to, but it did mean his youth was spent grinding each day and not truly lived. As he laid in his bed, still uncaring that the second alarm had come and gone, he realised he craved reaching out for what he had missed out on. He wanted to explore a foreign place and do so without much planning.

He was usually the research and implement type of guy, but today, he simply packed a small suitcase with the necessities for travel and climbed into his car, heading towards the airport.

With passport in hand, he watched the departure board for one of the places to stand out to him. Many flights were heading out within the next couple of hours, though there was one about to leave in forty minutes. Striding towards a desk, he smiled at the clerk and asked to buy a ticket to that destination.

“Sir, are you sure?” she asked, slightly perplexed by the sudden passenger request. Jinyoung nodded and she cringed. “There’s no business class left and it will take-”

“I’ll take it,” he confirmed, sliding his credit card across the tabletop towards her.

And that was how Jinyoung found himself in the back row of a twelve-hour plane ride to New Zealand.

“Wow!” exclaimed your daughter, eyes round with the adventure. “The little peach travelled all the way here! Did he make any friends?”

“Well,” you said, glancing at your husband before nodding once. “He turned up unexpectedly and asked to stay at a pear’s broken down bed and breakfast.”

“Which was basically in the middle of nowhere,” Jinyoung added on with a smile, glancing over at you fondly. “And it didn’t have any central heating.”

“That was because the pear herself hadn’t quite found out how to fix that problem, and the peach had chosen to get on a plane without checking that New Zealand was in the middle of winter.”

Jinyoung laughed, placing his daughter back under the blankets before continuing the story.

You blinked at the man standing upon your porch, shivering in his thin coat, the snow that was falling outside having covered his dark hair. And when you realised you weren’t hallucinating, you gasped, jerking open the old door across the wooden floors and stepped aside.

The foreign man dove inside out of the howling wind, and you shut it out with some effort in closing the door before stepping in front of him.

“How did you… I mean, it’s freezing out and you’re barely layered up. Please, follow me to the fireplace, you need to warm up.”

Once he was positioned as close to the fire as he could get, the man unravelled his arms around his waist and outstretched them towards the embers to thaw out. You left him there and dashed down to the kitchen, flicked on the jug and waited for it to boil.

Just who was this strange man? And how had he stumbled across your place at this time of night?

When your uncle died earlier in the year, his estate had been left to you. Your father, and his brother, had passed away some years prior and since your parents had been separated, what your uncle owned had been rightfully designated as yours.

“An inn?!” you echoed the words the lawyer had just read out, sitting up further in your chair. “My estranged uncle owned an inn?!”

“I wouldn’t be too excited, the place hasn’t had any guests in years,” the lawyer remarked, but you were already looking at the photos of the charming building, imagining what a bit of paint and gardening could do for the place.

So that’s how you wound up leaving the city life for the small township in the Buller district that had less than 1000 people living there. And, it was definitely going to take more than paint and some gardening to fix this place.

“You’re as crazy as your uncle was for trying to do up that house,” Katie, the owner of the only tearooms in Reefton, mentioned when you came in for lunch earlier in the day. “It’s got more problems than the number of people living here.”

You smiled grimly. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Why not sell it and go back to where you came from, Y/N? The land would be worth some. I’m sure a farmer around here would happily bulldoze down that eyesore of a home and run his sheep or cattle over it just fine. In fact, I think Bill was-”

Imagining the crumbling building no longer existing didn’t make you feel any better. Glancing up at Katie, you shook your head. “It’s Reefton Estate. You can’t just go tearing down history like that.”

“There’s history, Y/N and then there’s money traps. Sure, in its heyday that place must have been spectacular and full of guests all the time with the gold rush and all. But this isn’t the eighteen hundreds. There’s only the novelty of finding gold at Shanty Town if you’re a tourist these days.”

“I don’t need gold, and I can’t just sell up.”

So you got stuck in with what you could do. You hired a contractor from Greymouth to come and look at your home, and with an extremely long list of projects thereafter, you started tackling them one by one. The place was liveable, but it still had a long way to go to be back to its former glory.

And you certainly were slower than most, being a one-woman team, with a trickle of funds available. As a joke, you placed an advert up online looking for volunteers to help lovingly restore the estate.

Of course, no one had come, until now.

Handing the stranger a mug of tea, you sat down beside him and smiled gently. “Did you mean to come here?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, smiling weakly. “I’m Jinyoung and you are?”

“Y/N,” you replied, holding out your hand in greeting. He took it, and your eyes nearly popped out of your head with how cold he still was. Rubbing it repeatedly, you tried to warm him up until Jinyoung gripped at your wrist and eyed you warily.

You balked and let him go. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re so cold. Not many people venture out at night around here without thermals on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mentioned with a soft smile, nodding once. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Before the night wore out, Jinyoung had told you of his rash plan. He had left Korea and come to New Zealand on a whim, and again, chose his next destination in the same way as he had his last.

You gasped. “Of all the places to choose in New  Zealand, you ended up in Greymouth?!”

“To be fair, I wasn’t really aware. I thought it would be bigger and have more people,” he admitted and you laughed.

“The coast has people; just they tend to know each other. Oh boy. It won’t be long until word spreads about you coming here either.”

“How will that happen when it’s just us two here?” Jinyoung asked and you sighed.

You didn’t want to have to explain it tonight. When you had arrived from Christchurch, it was as if you had a giant beacon on your head that every resident of Reefton could see from their homes. You had been inundated with visitors both very friendly and extremely nosy for an entire week before you felt that you had met almost everyone. And although you got used to the gossiping nature of the place, you still didn’t quite like it either.

You somehow felt protective of Jinyoung. Besides, when the light arrived in the morning, you were certain he would climb into his hired vehicle and continue on his sightseeing ways.

However, you found him merely staring at your entryway, aghast.

“Morning,” you called and he whipped around, trying to wipe the perturbed look off his face. Clearing his throat, you shook your head to stop him. “I know, it needs a lot of attention.”

“Only one fireplace works, the rooms are freezing even with the space heater you gave me and you have a hole in the ceiling above me.”

“There’s also the west wing that has two inaccessible rooms, one of the bathrooms upstairs is blocked and there’s no way anyone will be able to stay here in the next few years to produce any revenue,” you added on with a smile, handing Jinyoung the coffee you had made him. He thanked you silently, before allowing his gaze to travel up the walls again. “It would probably make nice firewood to some farmer who tore it down for the land to run his animals over-”

“It has charm,” Jinyoung said then, cutting you off. You merely stared at him, wondering who he really was. He was the only person you had met since inheriting this place that had said those words to you. “It has a lot of potential to become something amazing, after a lot of work, of course.”

“I think so too.”

“Do you have the blueprints at all?” he asked and you cocked your head to the side.

“Thought you were sightseeing?”

“Well, there certainly seems to be a lot to look at just within this house, don’t you think?”

Jinyoung said he would stay for two weeks, helping you with projects that could be started with a bit of manual labour. Two weeks turned into a month, with trips to Greymouth for further supplies. And after then, you stopped asking when he was going to go back to Korea and his company. Part of you didn’t want to know the answer, having grown attached to the man. He was more playful than you had expected, and you spent most of your days laughing and soon your nights curled up together in front of the fireplace.

Of course, the gossip mill ran wild. Jinyoung didn’t care, and after three months, he even held your hand as you walked downtown, allowing the nosy store owners to pick up their phones and ring around that you had found yourself a man.

“Did the peach ever return home?”

“He did, three times,” Jinyoung stated, holding up the right amount of fingers before counting them down as he spoke. “First, because he felt he had to go. But he had found he could run his company from New Zealand with relative success.”

“Especially once he invested in better internet connection at the inn,” you interjected with a knowing look and Jinyoung rolled his eyes before dropping another finger.

“He came back here because he couldn’t stop thinking about the house and worried that pear would end up hurting herself badly. Which, had he not gotten on that plane and walked through the door when he did, pear would have fallen off a ladder onto the ground.”

“Instead she fell on top of the peach,” you said with a laugh and Jinyoung nodded.

“And the third time he went back was to finalise the sale of his company and bring his parents back with him.”

Your daughter sat up eagerly again. “Why did his parents come?! Did he miss them?!”

“Of course. But there was another reason too,” Jinyoung said, glancing at you and reaching out for your hand. You took it and he rubbed the set of rings that lay over your left finger. “The peach and pear got married.”

“Wait a minute!” your daughter breathed, pointing at her father and then you repeatedly before clapping and squealing. “That’s you and Mummy!”

“And now we live in Reefton Estate together, don’t we?” you told her, and her little head bounced up and down.

“Which thankfully has heating.”

“And no more holes in the ceilings.”

“The west wing can be rented out to staying guests.”

“And the peach and pear lived happily ever after.”

“With their own little peachy-pear!” cried your daughter to end the story, which had you all laughing, hugging the sweet child.

And once she had finally drifted off to sleep, you stepped out into the hallway on tiptoes, trying not to make the floorboards creak and wake her back up.

Of course, the house had been repaired. But it still carried most of its original parts, and definitely needed more work. The floors were next on the list to replace.

For now, tiptoeing back to your room down the hall was the best option you had. And when Jinyoung shut the door behind you, he pulled you into his arms, resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned back into him, cherishing the moment.

Mostly for his warmth, and he knew it.

“We need to work on the heating in our room.”

“It made sense to do the guest rooms at the time so we could make money,” you reminded, spinning around softly so you could face him. “Besides, I remember you saying at the time that we had each other to keep warm with.”

“That’s how peachy-pear came along,” he pointed out with a low chuckle and you slapped his shoulder playfully.

“We should get that heating sorted quickly then in case we end up growing more fruit,” you teased but Jinyoung shook his head in answer, leaning down to capture your lips briefly.

“I don’t mind growing more fruit with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s one way to keep us both warm, too.”

“Why did you turn up on my doorstep all those years ago?” you breathed out, staring at your husband lovingly. You still couldn’t quite believe your luck.

As if he read your mind, Jinyoung smiled. “It wasn’t luck that brought me here. It was a need to find my forever home.”

“You chose well in a broken-down inn,” you retorted, to which he chuckled again.

“It has its charm,” he said before nuzzling his nose into yours. “And it has you.”

_________________

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[sushiandstarlight]

Lockdown Voicemails

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There was an extremely annoying sound blaring outside his cocoon of blankets.  No matter how much he growled and hissed at it, the sound wouldn’t cease.  In fact, it was only getting louder.

Crowley reached out and grasped his phone, swiping the alarm off without even looking.  He drug his now-cold arm with the phone back into the warmth of the blankets and sighed.  Maybe five more minutes.  What was five more minutes after months of sleeping?

He gave up on it two minutes in, an antsiness spreading out into his limbs making them want to move and slither.  He pulled the phone up in front of his face and blinked a few times to clear his vision only to startle and sit up, throwing the blankets back.

There were 24 missed calls, all from Aziraphale.  His heart started racing, thinking something had gone horribly wrong while he slept.  But, really, if it was something so bad surely Aziraphale would have popped over and woke him up, right?  He jabbed the first voicemail:

“Ah, I see I did miss you.  I had hoped, well... I had hoped to catch you before your nap,” and here Aziraphale’s voice waiver and lowered a bit, “It is just a nap, I hope.  I hope you won’t be gone until July.  Just... er, just call me back when you get up, I suppose? Okay.”

Crowley stared at the phone.  So, Aziraphale had been okay on May 2nd.  That was good.  He tapped the second message:

“I guess you were telling the truth about your nap until July.  That’s okay, really.  I mean there’s not much to do, is there?  I was enjoying my baking... The whole process and, of course, the tasting.  I don’t know.  It’s lost a bit of it’s shine, I’m afraid.  I thought about leaving some of my cakes on the neighbor’s stoops.  Not sure how well that would be received.  Is that a thing humans do anymore?  Unprecedented times, they keep saying,” there was a long pause where Crowley could hear him breathing, “I suppose that’s it then.  I hope you’re resting well.”

He scrolled down a few voicemails and tapped the one from the last day of May.

“I spent some time reading human accounts of ‘ancient Rome’ today,” Aziraphale began without preamble; Crowley thought he sounded tired, “not all accurate, but they do a pretty good job for what information they have.  Doesn’t quite capture the feel of the time.  You can’t capture the feeling if you haven’t experienced a culture though, can you?  Do you... do you remember the oysters?  I thought they were divine, but I remember your face when you tried them.” There’s a soft chuckle and then, “I miss our dinners.  Ordering in isn’t the same, even if I can get whatever I want these days.”  There was another pause and then a click.

Crowley’s heart was doing a funny little sideways wobble.  That was the end of May.  He was a little afraid to click the next few messages.  Maybe... maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to leave Aziraphale behind just to skip a few months.  He scrolled past a few more voicemails and tapped one for the middle of June.  There was hardly a sound at first, but an occasional soft sigh or the creak of floorboards gave away that someone was there, pacing.  Crowley held the phone closer.

“... the thing is, as you say... I miss you, Crowley.  I don’t miss our dinners so much.  I can order in what I like.  I don’t miss the plays; I can ‘stream’ those.  A lot of museums are putting so many interesting things on the internet for me to visit.  I can have the majority of the world right here in my bookshop with me.  Imagine, human ingenuity,” Crowley swears he can actually hear Aziraphale swallow hard over the phone, “But you’re over there sleeping and I miss your company.  Which is silly, isn’t it?  We’ve gone longer apart, I know...” there’s another near-silent pause before Aziraphale seems to collect himself, “Do give me a ring when you wake up, dear.”

Crowley rubbed his eyes with his free hand because they were itching from being closed for so long.  It’s the brightness of the phone, that’s all.  Still, his chest is aching solidly now.  There were a couple more messages before the last one and he skips those, opting to listen to the one from two days ago.

“It’s- It’s nearly July now.  I find myself a bit excited to hear from you.  I hope you don’t hit the snooze,” the laugh that follows sounds hollow and a bit forced, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though.  Especially if you check the news before your phone.  Things are not...  they’re not as far along as we’d hoped.  I mean, the world is trying to open back up.  Humans treat economies like living things, you know.  Some of the sellers on the street have lost their shops.  And, one of them got sick.  She’s still in hospital.  I would like to visit her... maybe help... but they aren’t allowing visitors due to the infectiousness of the virus...” there’s another one of those long, painful pauses that gnaws at Crowley’s chest before, “When you wake up you’re more than welcome to come here now.  I should have... I should have let you pop over to begin with.  It’s still hard to remember, sometimes... that there aren’t rules for us now.  Not even human rules, really.  You can drive as fast as you like in London.  We can’t get sick.  You can come here.  I wish.  I wish you’d come here.  Call me when you’re up, won’t you?”

Crowley tossed his phone and the blankets aside, sliding to the edge of the bed and rubbing his face with both hands.  Taking a nap had been a mistake.  He should have insisted and tempted the angel into giving in.  That’s what he always had done, wasn’t it?  Spin words differently until something that had sounded impossible started to sound like something allowed.  It was just that, after everything, he had wanted Aziraphale to invite him willingly.  But, what had that stubbornness really accomplished?  With a snap of his fingers he was clean and dressed.  He grabbed a few of his things and a bottle of wine and headed for the Bentley.

Strangely, a knock at the door of the bookshop door yielded no answer.  Crowley had seen plenty of humans out and about on the streets on his way here.  Maybe the angel had gone out at last.  Still, it was being advertised as a bad idea, so he didn’t think that was the case.  He snapped open the door and crept inside, locking it again behind him.  The bookshop was dark and still inside.  He kept walking through the maze of books and the collected clutter of all the angel’s lifetimes.

He found Aziraphale in a pool of light in the back room.  He was curled up at the end of the sofa where they’d spent so many nights talking and drinking.  A blanket was draped over his lap and a book that had been in his hands was now on the floor.  He was sleeping, unbelievably.  Crowley had never seen him sleep before.  But, here he was: asleep with his silly little glasses still on.

Crowley set the wine down on a side table and stooped down to pick up the book, closing it gently and setting in on the sofa beside Aziraphale.  He didn’t stand back up, instead crouching there and observing his friend: his face was lax in sleep, all the fussy lines smoothed out.  Crowley found he would rather have those lines back if it meant he could see his eyes.  He reached out and gently shook the angel’s knee.

Aziraphale startled which made Crowley jump, losing his balance and pitching backwards to sit on the floor.

“Crowley!”

“Yes, it’s me!”

“Oh!” Aziraphale flustered, going about straightening his bow tie and his collar, “How did you... Did you really pop over here?”

“You were asleep.”

“Nonsense, I don’t sleep.”

“You rarely sleep.”

“I don’t sleep at all.  You sleep.  For months.”  There was a hurt edge to his voice that cut where the voicemails had ached.  He had.  He had left him alone here for months.

“Okay, you weren’t asleep.  I just snuck up on you.  Very sneaky, me.”  He was back up on his knees now, unsure what to do with his hands.  He wanted to touch, but that hadn’t seemed so welcomed a moment before.

“That isn’t much better, is it?”  Aziraphale was fiddling with the edges of he blanket in his lap, “Did you have a good nap?”

“Nothing to speak of, really, I was unconscious,” Crowley wanted to rest his hands on Aziraphale’s knees at least, some form of grounding connection, instead he tried to use words, “I’m sorry-”

“I do apologize-”

They shared a long look.

“I’m glad you didn’t oversleep,” Aziraphale swallowed glancing from Crowley’s eyes to his own lap, “It’s been a long couple of months...”

Crowley placed a hand on one knee and when that wasn’t met with more than a cautious gaze he grasped the other and gave it a squeeze.

“I would rather have been here.  I’m glad to be here now, with you.”

“I’m relieved you’re here.  I missed you terribly, Crowley.”  Soft, impossibly warm hands covered his own and Crowley’s heart gave a lurch.

“Next time,” Crowley watched more lines cross the angel’s face, “if there is a next time, I mean.  Next time I’ll set my phone so you can ring through.”

“Oh, would you?”

“Anything, Angel, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Maybe next time- if there is a next time,” Aziraphale pulled back his hands and fussed with them in his lap, “Next time you could just sleep here.  So I... So I know where you are.”

“I could do that, too,” Crowley’s voice sounded rough even to him.  The distance between them, though scant, was still unnerving him.  He stood slowly and sat beside Aziraphale, knee pressed against his thigh, “You sounded so sad on the phone.  I should’ve been there to answer.  I won’t make that mistake again, I promise.”

There was a pause.

“You believe me?”

“I do.  You haven’t lied to me yet.”

Crowley felt his shoulder’s relax for the first time since he’d started listening to the messages on his phone.

“So, tell me: you’ve been here all this time wishing I was here, yeah?  What would you like to do?  I brought some wine!  We could play some board games.  Promise not to cheat... overly much.”  Crowley smiled at him, hoping to draw a smile from the angel.

Aziraphale smiled a little and then a worried shadow crossed over his face.

“Whatever you want, I’m at your disposal: a fully charged demon.”

“I... you don’t have to, you know?  It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale was rambling on like Crowley usually did and that was unnerving to say the least, “Could I... well, could I hold you?”

Crowley’s brain fizzled to a stop.

“You can say no,” Aziraphale’s breaths were coming faster now and he was blinking rapidly, “you don’t have to.”

Crowley sat up and threw a knee over Aziraphale’s lap so he could settle into it.

“Oh.”

“Whatever you want.  I meant it.”  Crowley watched for a moment as Aziraphale took him in, drinking him in really.  Then the angel was reaching for him and pulling him into a tight hug.  Crowley snuggled closer to him, burying his face in the angel’s shoulder.

“You’re what I want,” one warm hand was on Crowley’s back while the other was stroking up into his hair, “I missed you and now I only want to know you’re here.”

“m’here,” Crowley murmured into the shoulder he was pressed into, arms looping around Aziraphale’s neck, “Not going anywhere.”

Aziraphale squeezed him again and Crowley felt the tension in the angel’s body drain out, taking his along with it.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

Some Reasons I Love One Piece

So I set up a poll to ask what I should do for my 4000 follower milestone, and something like 85% of the responses to my poll said you wanted me to do a compilation of stuff I love about One Piece! So hell yeah, get ready for me to talk about pirates for way too long (a sentence that could also serve as an accurate blog description).

Before that though, lemme just say- thank you all! Seriously! When I started this blog I figured I’d be extremely lucky to end up with like a thousand followers, and now I have four times that and it just keeps growing, which just constantly baffles and amazes me. I adore every one of you, and you’re providing me something fun and productive to do in quarantine, and I love you for that.

Anyways! Let’s talk good shit.

Let’s start with Luffy. The whole story starts with him, after all.

I love Luffy, just as a character. He’s one of my favorite protagonists in anything, ever, when ordinarily protagonist characters don’t really appeal to me all that much. I genuinely think he might be my favorite character in One Piece now that I sit down and really think about it. I love how unconventional of a main character he is- he actively shuns the idea of being a hero and is in fact the most chaotic neutral motherfucker on the planet, and yet he’s so friendly and loyal and fun that you straight up can’t not love him both in-universe and out. 

I also love the Strawhats just in general, both as a group and individually. Found family is one of my all-time favorite story tropes, and they do it better than like, the vast majority of stories out there. They’re all so completely unique from each other and play off each other so well and they really do feel like a family. I love how often Oda just shows them fucking around and hanging out. (One of my only gripes with post-timeskip is how much time they spend split apart.) I think it says a lot about them that I struggled so much when someone asked me to rank the Strawhats a few months back and had to rearrange the list like four times. I just!! Love them all!!

One of my favorite things about One Piece is that it’s the story of Luffy’s rise, and that it occurs in a world that’s so solidly scaled and well-developed that all progress he makes actually feels tangible and impactful. Some of my favorite moments in One Piece are the ones where we can see how far he and the crew have come and see other people’s reactions. His reappearance at Sabaody after the timeskip is my favorite scene in the manga, full stop. His entrance at Marineford and all of the Decks of the World cover stories delight me for the same reason.

Speaking of the worldbuilding, god it’s so good? I think one of the greatest potential strengths of a long manga is that its just got so much time to establish and build on so much information, and sometimes that leads to mangaka kind of tying themselves in knots with too much lore and explanation, but Oda just fucking nails it. 

I recently read a conversation during Zou where the Strawhats are talking to Inuarashi, Nekomamushi and the Wano folks about all their mutual acquaintances on the Roger Pirates- Brook asks about Crocus, Franky mentions Tom, etc- and I had a moment where I realized how in pretty much any other series all those connections might seem contrived, but in One Piece it works so well. So much time has been dedicated to establishing all these facts and characters and connections over years and hundreds of chapters that when they do come together, it just feels so satisfying. 

Like, at Twin Cape Crocus mentions he was a ship’s doctor and then mentions Roger as the Strawhats leave, at Thriller Bark we find out he’s Brook’s friend, at Sabaody in conversation with Rayleigh we find out for sure which ship he was a doctor on and that he joined them to look for Brook’s crew- and it all just falls together so nicely. One Piece is maybe the strongest series I’ve ever read in terms of how it establishes its characters and concepts and how they all fit into the world and cross over and connect with each other. The world of One Piece is huge, but it also feels so alive and interconnected, and that’s just wonderful. 

I love how hopeful One Piece is. I was talking to a friend a couple months ago who doesn’t watch it, and she kind of dismissed it as ‘a show where nobody dies.’ Which- setting aside the fact that that’s just not fucking true- my first response to that was, “So?” I think it’s nice that we can all know for pretty much certain that the Strawhats will achieve their dreams in the end. There’ll be a happy ending, and Luffy’s going to be Pirate King, we’ve known that from the start. The fun is in seeing how they get there. 

Aside from a few specific cases, I also really like how Oda does his character writing just in general. The female characters in One Piece generally get a bad rap, largely from people who haven’t watched the show and judge it on the (admittedly exaggerated) artstyle, but fuck if I haven’t seen such a widely varied and developed and flawed female cast writing-wise since- I don’t even know. Oda does a really good job of giving his characters, both male and female, unique and memorable personalities, which is super fucking impressive considering just how many there are. Similarly, I’m impressed by how new characters are introduced without getting repetitive or annoying, and very often those characters are really fantastic. I could talk about all the different One Piece characters I love and why, but we would legitimately be here all day. 

I also love how unlike a lot of long-running series like this, characters don’t just go away when their time in the spotlight is done. In just about any other series, characters like Buggy and Coby and Crocodile would just be gone and never to be heard from again after they’ve served their purpose. Instead you have the stupid clown villain from the second arc becoming a fucking shichibukai several hundred chapters later, and it makes sense in the context of the story! The whole concept of the cover stories works really well towards this aspect of One Piece, letting us see what all these other characters are up to without taking attention off the main story. This fits in with the interconnectedness I mentioned earlier, too. 

And I like how (and I know there are people who will argue this, I have had them in my inbox, but I do not care) One Piece has stayed so strong for so long. I’ve mentioned before that both of my favorite big arcs are pre-timeskip- Alabasta, for the civil war storyline and great supporting cast and villains, and W7/Enies Lobby, for the epic emotional highs and lowers + ANOTHER great supporting cast. But like, I’ve been enjoying the more recent arcs just as much! Honestly, now that I’ve finished Dressrosa, I think it definitely ranks up there among my favorites as well, for how chaotic and fun and high-stakes the whole thing felt when I was binging through it. I’m only a few chapters into Whole Cake Island so far but it seems very promising, and I’m really excited to get to Wano from what I’ve seen of it.

I haven’t even really touched on the art yet, either. I know the artstyle turns some people off of the series, for how kind of cartoony it is sometimes and how different it is from most other series, but honestly I just love it. I wasn’t sure about it at the start but it grew on me very fast. Hell, I have a whole tag (which I should use more) dedicated just to appreciation of pretty panels.

And the action scenes in One Piece are so fun and expressive and creative and almost always at least a little silly just by the nature of Luffy’s powers. I don’t think I’ve ever been bored during a One Piece fight. And the splash pages are frequently just breathtaking. I’m a writing person, not an art person, so I’m bad at putting this kind of thing into words nearly as well, but- yeah. One Piece Art Good. (My friend Narramin also has a really, really good series of posts about how great the visual storytelling in OP is starting here that I highly recommend, if you’re interested.)

Finally, I think my favorite thing about One Piece is that it’s all one story, start to end. I kind of touched on this above with the worldbuilding thing, but you can see what a ridiculous degree of thought and planning Oda has put into his story, and how well everything comes together. It’s the main aspect that got me to give One Piece a try in the first place- I heard how good and thought-out the long term storytelling is, and I just eat that shit up. I don’t think I’ve ever had the level of trust in a creator to handle and end their story satisfyingly that I have in Oda. It’s a good feeling. 

[shiny-procrastinates]

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 1

Hello and welcome everyone to the first post on this watch-along commentary of the first season of Magia Record! Whether you are just now watching it for the first time, or are re-watching in preparation for the second season, or have only played the game and are curious about the anime (in which case I'd be surprised you even exist) I hope you can have some fun reading these ramblings as I try to put my thoughts into words  (actually turned more into narrating the show) throughout all 12 13 episodes.

Before we can get to it, though, I have a few warnings to give:

1 - As much as I'd love to be able to memory swipe so I can watch this fresh all over again, such an ability is sadly still beyond my grasp. In other words, this isn't my first time watching (or second, for that matter; more like the sixth… or seventh…). That being the case I can't claim that these are my first impressions and it's very likely this commentary will be somewhat biased by my previous knowledge. However, I can guarantee one thing: I will do my best to keep this spoiler-free, so you don't have to worry if this is your first time watching.

(I will, however, be assuming that you have watched the OG series and Rebellion, so beware of that).

2 - Please don't come into this expecting it to be Madoka 2

Also no, this is not a continuation of the OG, it’s an alternate universe spin-off.

This one's for first-time viewers.

Well, ok, this sounds like vague tweeting and I'm kind of whining here, but I have seen a number of peeps on the internet saying that Magia Record is bad only for their argument to boil down to "because it isn't OG Madoka!"

Yeah it isn't. I'm pretty sure there's "Side Story" written somewhere in the title too.

Leaving aside the matter of nostalgia glasses and whether the original series was that much of a masterpiece or not (it's been over five years since I last watched it, so I can't say anything either way.) it seems kind of weird to me that someone would bash a spinoff on the grounds of how close it is to the original. Because here's the thing: to me, the whole point of spinoffs is taking an already existing scenario and putting a spin on it to make something new. That's exactly what makes them fun!

MagiReco didn't need to be a Madoka clone or to try hard and beat the original. That would probably have made it bad, actually. What it did need to do was to create an interesting story using the world set up by the OG Madoka and the other spinoffs, and that, in my opinion, it did, so I hope people can give it a chance and judge it on its own merits rather than only compared to the original. I'm not saying you can't hate it, either, I myself have my own problems with it, it's just that I want to see more reasonable reasons than "it's not the OG so it's bad".

3 - As you can probably already tell from these warnings, these posts are bound to get looong, so I'd recommend setting aside a fair amount of time and getting real comfy if you're gonna read it all. I also don't mind if you just skip ahead and only read the interesting parts, I'm not the internet police.

3.5 - I don't want to use it as an excuse, but I think I should make it clear that English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes and awkward/stilted text. It's hard to tell by myself, so feel free to correct me if you find something.

SO, with that out of the way let’s get down to what’s really important:

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record Episode 1

Whew, now that’s a mouthful.

You know, in my mind I always thought a “side story” was something that happened alongside a “main story”, like another POV, so I’m not sure that’s the most appropriate title, but who am I to judge?

So here we go, we’re off with some beautiful futuristic scenery already, that’s the Madoka series I know.

As the classic Sis Puella Magi plays in the background, two unseen narrators tell us the tale of the so called “magical girls” as we are shown the reality of being one, meeting our first witch for this series.

Risking your life to save a cat doesn’t seem like the smartest of things. Rather, witches eat cats? That’s mean.

No, you really, really don’t. This narration definitely seems made to make everyone who saw the original say this, particularly with how silly are the wishes these girls suggest. 

And hey, look, even this girl who supposedly had her wish granted doesn’t seem very happy.

Hang in there, this is only the first episode.

Man, this scenery really is pretty though.

After an exciting fight with a witch in the train, our girl here silently goes home to find

Whatever the heck this is.

So, our girl here seems to be having strange visions whenever she enters her room, that is very very suspiciously cut exactly in half. Protagonist, you sure have an unique sense of interior decoration.

She goes on with her day, makes two lunchboxes and… oh, it seems she’s all alone.

Is this something you should be telling your own daughter?

Long story short, Iroha’s parents are abroad right now (as is suspiciously the case with many a anime protagonist parents). I actually love the parallel this scene draws with OG Madoka: whereas Madoka’s parents seem responsible and Madoka even looks up to her mom and they’re a happy united family, Iroha comes off as being the responsible one in her family and her parents are gone from the get-go. This way, the lonely atmosphere of the previous scene also starts making sense.

So, it seems like there’s something Iroha wants to do here, and that’s why she decided to stay behind.

Perhaps. Did you wish to save a black cat?

Wow, this teacher is speaking fast. Calm down lady, we’re not here to speedrun the content, geez. Though I guess we should be happy she’s at least giving a proper class, unlike a certain other teacher…

Oh great, it's this guy.

Ok, Iroha doesn’t remember what she wished for and Kyuubei doesn’t know either, although he knows she used her wish for the sake of someone. Kyuubei theorizes that the reason she doesn’t remember might be that not remembering was part of her wish, but Iroha doesn’t think she’d wish for that. I don’t think you’d ever think to wish for something like that until you had to wish for something like that though.

She’s got a fair point. After all, wishing in this universe is basica— the heck is going on in the background there?! O-kaaay…

Iroha was having a weird think-spot mental conversation with Kyuubei there, and missed speedrun teacher’s lecture entirely. Being meguca is suffering.

We get some school motto propaganda, and now we’re on the roof. Oh? Where did all the friendship stuff from the propaganda go? Seems like Iroha’s not following the school spirit. Unless she considers the white weasel a friend, so that’s why she gave him her extra… wait, Kyuubei can EAT? I thought he was some alien machine-like being. H-Huh...

Classmate A: Tamaki-san, maji tenshi!

She’s probably just shy. According to her classmates, Iroha used to be busy doing something or the other, but no one can remember what that is.

Cute. 

But maybe don’t do that somewhere someone could easily walk in on you, Iroha.

Iroha gets a call by the girl from the combat scene from before, whose name is Kuroe. I couldn’t tell from their conversation if they’ve known each other for a while or if they just met each other for the first time in the fight before.

On the train, although she’s the one who called her over, Kuroe remains silent. Iroha, clearly uncomfortable, tries her best to make conversation. Poor Iroha, I know the feeling.

We learn from her that the number of witches around has been decreasing. She comments that being unable to get Grief Seeds is troubling, but it’s better than having witches causing trouble. Poor girl has no way to know just how much of a bad news it is running out of Grief Seeds.

What’s with pink-haired girls and lacking self-esteem? Iroha, are you sure you didn’t wish to save a black and forget that you did? You did save a white one just before.

Kuroe finally decides to talk, and she tells us this:

If you go to Kamihama, you’ll be saved. To anyone that saw the OG, the first thought that comes to mind is that they’ll be saved from their destiny of turning into witches, but it seems Kuroe doesn’t know the truth yet. She just doesn’t want to fight witches anymore. I think.

The train lights up, and…

...this is extremely unsettling considering the truth about witches and the conversation they’re having right now. There’s a lot of this, but this just hits different having watched the original.

Iroha’s not inclined to believe what Kuroe’s saying. Of course, despite not remembering her wish, she’s the type that’s happy with fighting witches if she can save someone, and Kuroe’s not being very convincing either. The whole thing is apparently a rumor spread by some girls who saw a dream that told them that.

Except that Kuroe actually had the dream too.

Like most magical girls, Kuroe made a short-sighted wish, and regrets it. She now wants to be saved, so she’s going to Kamihama.

...or she was, but before that, they’ll have to defeat the witch they let escape the other day, ‘cos she’s back for more.

I actually have so many questions about this scene. Weren’t Labyrinths pocket dimensions? How come this one’s moving in physical space? We know witches themselves move and their Labyrinth goes with that, but I thought it was more, like, the entrance to the Labyrinth moves. Then how come witches can escape if magical girls get carried with their Labyrinth when they move…? Just... just... what?

The answer to all of that is probably “magic”.

Like that, Express Witch Labyrinth crashes right into what seems to be a train station. Labyrinths don’t have brakes, confirmed.

Brutal.

Looks like it’s not only magical girls who have territorial disputes going on. Although it’s nice that they won’t have to fight two witches at the same time, this is not exactly a relief when you consider these two were already struggling with the previous one, and this one just ripped it apart like crab.

As expected, Iroha’s arrows do no damage at all. When all seems lost…

A wild singing mini Kyuubei appears! Is this a shiny?

The singing Kyuubei distracts the witch and jumps towards Iroha, who uses her pro white cat catching skills to grab it, and… something happens. Whatever this Kyuubei did, Iroha’s having some flashbacks now. Sadly, the middle of a battle isn’t the best time to be having a BSOD and, despite Kuroe’s attempts to snap her out of it, they’re sitting ducks right now, a black and a white one.

Thankfully for them, though, they’re not alone in this barrier. This mystery blue haired girl spams flying spears and makes short work of the witch Iroha’s arrows didn’t even scratch earlier. She’s clearly at a whole ‘nother level.

Also, chibi Kyuubei’s gone. Totally not suspicious. Nope. Not at all.

So, from this OP miss get-the-heck-out-of-my-territory, who didn’t even bother saying her name, we learn that not only there is no salvation in Kamihama, there are more, stronger witches, and there are currently no Kyuubei. She gives them the Grief Seeds from the two witches before, and passes on a warning to them. Not the friendliest of magical girls. Though if you consider what happens when you run out of Grief Seeds, one could understand why it’d be undesirable having too many magical girls in the same place.

With this, Iroha and Kuroe take the train back to their town and things are totally awkward again.

Welp, seems like Kuroe doesn’t want to chat anymore, so we’ll have a dream sequence instead.

Forgive my lack of words, but this scene doesn’t need them. This is just… you couldn’t ask for a better representation of what being a magical girl wishing for salvation is like. Everyone has their own reasons, but in the end, having known despair, these girls are desperately clinging to this last hope called Kamihama. It’s almost a pilgrimage.

“Let’s go to Kamihama. We’ll be saved there”

And in the midst of all that is the mysterious girl from Iroha’s dreams.

(the track here, Paradero de Memoria, is also great btw)

Now, with various wishes written all over in the background, we get Kyuubei’s spiel about magical girls. I think this is word-by-word the same from the original too.

We now get to finally know what our protagonist’s wish was.

So Iroha wished to cure her younger sister’s illness, but the sister in question is now nowhere to be found. Worse: everything related to her is gone. Even Iroha, who made a wish for her sake, didn’t remember her existence until now. Oh man, that’s no normal disappearance. What happened? Guess that’s what Iroha will have to find out now.

With that, we conclude the first episode of Magia Record(’s s1)!

This is a really strong first episode in my opinion. It decently introduces our protagonist, sets up the mysteries we will be dealing with from here on and also manages to trace connections with the original, while using the viewer’s previous knowledge to give a whole different impression to some scenes. You wouldn’t be like “hell no” at the rumor there at the start if you didn’t know the truth about magical girls, and I doubt that final scene would hit that hard either. It’s just really good at this and it’ll continue doing that from now on. I love it.

Speaking of the final scene, me having watched the original over five years ago might also be part of it but that is really my favorite scene in Madoka overall. I just really really love that scene. (Seriously, I’ve watched this scene so many times I know it by heart now. Help.)

Alas, I lied, the episode’s not over yet, we still have our classic anime first episode ending-opening to watch. So let’s listen, to Gomakashi:

This logo’s real pretty.

So yeah, pretty standard anime opening. If you pay attention, there are some references to Connect too, what with the selfcest and whatnot. Although I managed to mistake this when I first watched, this one’s actually sung by the trio TrySail rather than ClariS. That’s the VAs for Iroha, Asakura Momo; Yachiyo (the get-out-of-my-territory girl), Amamiya Sora and Natsukawa Shiina, whose character we’ve yet to meet. TrySail has a lot of cool songs, so do check them out if you haven’t already. (free ad)

This time, in fact, the episode is over! Whew, I did say this was going to be long, but not even I thought it’d be this long. By the time this is posted I should have a backlog of these, so my plan is to post one everyday until we are done. I hope you had fun reading this here rant and I’ll be looking forward to meeting you guys again tomorrow, same place, maybe same hour, so we can go on and watch episode 2 together!

(P.S.: I am considering doing a series of posts at a later date comparing the anime to the game, but we’ll see. The first few chapters are fine, but the game is stupidly long, so I feel it’d take a lot of motivation and stamina I’m not sure I have at the moment. There’s also the possibility watching the first arc again would bring back my yt copy-apocalipse grief back and that’d suck, definitely don’t wanna go through that again.)

[arofili]

Three Houses of the Edain Edit Series: Appendix B

Continued from Appendix A. This section will contain information on the House of Hador.

~~~

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Appendix A: House of Bëor Appendix B: House of Hador (you are here!) Appendix C: House of Haleth, Drúedain

~~~

HOUSE OF HADOR

Note: With regard to name translations, I took inspiration from this article; specifically, I used some of the suggestions for name meanings of the early Hadorians and assigned them to elements in my Taliska glossary (see Appendix A).

~~~

Marach ft. Marach, Legen (OC), Malach Aradan, Imlach It is canon that while they were the third House to enter Beleriand, Marach’s people were originally in the lead; also canon is the attitude of the Green-elves toward them and Marach’s decision to remain in Estolad even though his son led many of his people further west. Since Imlach’s son Amlach is still in Estolad during the time of dissent, it is highly probable (though not explicitly stated afaik) that Imlach remained with his father. Everything else is headcanon. Also, Marach is trans because I said so <3

Imlach ft. Imlach, Amar (OC), Amlach The basic structure of this story is canon: Malach remained in Estolad; Amlach was a dissenter who was impersonated and became an elf-friend in his anger at the deception, entering into Maedhros’ service. I added a lot of details to flesh out the story, especially Amlach’s confusing night in the forest. I think Sauron (or one of his servants) stranded him in the woods and stole his likeness, though I doubt Amlach ever really figured out exactly what happened.

Malach Aradan ft. Malach Aradan, Zimrahin Meldis, Adanel, Magor Malach did enter Fingolfin’s service, and the basic details of his familial relationship are canon. Much of the rest of this is headcanon, however.

Magor ft. Magor, Amathal (OC), Hathol, Thevril (OC), Hador Lórindol We don’t know much about Magor or Hathol; the only canonical detail here is that Magor did move his people away from Hithlum and served no elf lord (though we don’t have details on why). Everything else is headcanon.

Hador Lórindol ft. Hador Lórindol, Gildis, Glóredhel, Galdor of Dor-lómin, Gundor This is mostly canon, though it has been embellished, and everything about Gildis other than her name is headcanon. Gundor’s life is also mostly headcanon, though the manner of his death is canon; I’ll go into his story soon.

Gundor ft. Gundor, Angreneth (OC), Indor, Padrion (OC), Aerin, Peleg We don’t know anything about Gundor other than the manner of his death; we also don’t know how Aerin is related to Húrin, so I decided to expand on both of those unknowns with the same story. Aerin’s father is said to be Indor, who is elsewhere said to be the father of Peleg (who was himself the father of Tuor in an early draft), so I made him the son of Gundor. Since Peleg obviously can’t be Tuor’s father anymore, I killed him off at the Nírnaeth...just like Huor, oops. I think Brodda took Aerin to wife before Morwen disappeared, but I couldn’t figure out how to word that concisely, so I left it kind of vague/misleading in the caption. Oh well.

Galdor of Dor-lómin ft. Galdor of Dor-lómin, Hareth, Húrin Thalion, Huor This is mostly canon, though it has been embellished to give Hareth a bit of personality. Ylmir is the Sindarin name for Ulmo, used by Tuor in his song “The Horns of Ylmir.”

Húrin Thalion ft. Húrin Thalion, Morwen Eledhwen, Túrin Turambar, Beleg Cúthalion, Urwen Lalaith, Niënor Níniel Boy howdy this is a long one! It’s almost entirely canon, though I’ve added some embellishments here and there. Beleg is included because he and Túrin were definitely married (at least by elven standards); I’ll go more into that, and the details of Túrin’s time with the Gaurwaith, in a future edit, but for now I settled just using the gayest possible language. Same deal for his time in Nargothrond.

Huor ft. Huor, Rían, Tuor Eladar We don’t know that Galdor took an arrow specifically to the eye, but I thought it would be poetic if both he and Huor died in the same manner so I added that detail to the canon that Galdor was killed by an arrow. The rest of this is pretty much all canon, with some embellishments. Tuor’s story will continue in another edit.

Tuor Eladar ft. Tuor Eladar, Idril Celebrindal, Eärendil Ardamírë The meat of this story is canon, but I’ve added in some of my headcanons as well. I definitely embellished Annael’s departure from Mithrim to show my perspective on his decision to leave Tuor behind (I really do think he thought Tuor was dead or as good as it, and that as a leader he had the responsibility to keep the rest of his people safe). I’m a little foggy on why Tuor was already so obsessed with Gondolin when he met Gelmir and Arminas, because why would the Sindar of Mithrim be so excited about a Noldorin city? I guess maybe they had friends from way back when who went with Turgon? Or maybe they just wished they could be “safe” like the Gondolindrim were, idk. I was kind of vague there. Ylmir is the Sindarin name for Ulmo; Yssion is a Sindarin name for Ossë (the other one is Gaerys, which I think sounds cooler but isn’t as close to a literal Sindarization as Yssion). The bit about Voronwë teaching Tuor Quenya on the road is headcanon, but I think it makes a lot of sense. Telpevontál is my Quenya translation of Celebrindal. I skimmed and skipped a lot of Tuor’s time in Gondolin, since I went over that in another edit. “The Horns of Ylmir” is a real song that Tolkien wrote (Adele McAllister has a cover of it); I added the bit about it triggering Idril’s foresight, though the song is absolutely foreshadowing no matter how you look at it. Eärendil did canonically get married the same year that Tuor and Idril left for Valinor; we don’t have much info on that otherwise, so I made it as bittersweet as possible. The bit about the Elessar is a lot of convoluted headcanon in my attempt to make sense of its 3 bajillion different origin stories. The name Ardamírë is prophetic because, you know, the whole Silmaril thing, but I liked the idea that Idril made the connection with the Elessar before the Silmaril came into the picture. All we know about Idril and Tuor’s fates in canon is that people ~believe~ they made it to Aman and that Tuor was counted as an elf, but that last bit never sat right with me since elsewhere it’s very clearly stated that the Gift of Men is not something that can be refused or taken away. The alternate legend is my own headcanon for what happened to them (I also think they had more peredhil kiddos); in my mind, the Valar let Tuor live the rest of his days in Valinor (all 500 years of them, I just think it’s poetic and connected to his grandson Elros’ fate) before he died peacefully and willingly, able to get closure with Idril before he went.

Storytellers ft. Eltas, Dírhaval Eltas is a character from the Book of Lost Tales, who tells Eriol the “Tale of Turambar.” Supposedly, he once lived in Hísilómë (Hithlum) and came to Tol Eressëa and the Cottage of Lost Play by the Straight Road. That story does not add up at all when you look at it through the lens of Tolkien’s later Legendarium, so I took the name and his origins in Hithlum and crafted an entirely different story for him. Dírhaval is canonically the poet who wrote the Narn i Chîn Húrin; he only wrote that one poem because he was killed at the Third Kinslaying before he could finish any of the other Great Tales like Narn i Leithian (The Lay of Leithian; from his Tolkien Gateway article I think that’s what he was working on after CoH? but I’m not totally sure. But Tolkien never finished the Leithian either, so I think it’s poetic to have Dírhaval do the same). Andvír was one of his sources in canon, I added in the others (Eltas, Nellas, Celebrimbor, Glírhuin), though it was conceivable (and canon, in Nellas’ case) that they knew Túrin enough to report his story (though we don’t know anything in canon about Nellas’ fate). These name translations are my own; I thought “sitting man” worked as a meaning for Dírhaval since I imagine that storytellers like him were known as folk who sat around a lot writing or telling tales.

Servants of Morwen ft. Morwen Eledhwen, Gethron, Grithnir, Ragnir the Blind, Sador Labadal Morwen sending her servants to talk to the elves is headcanon, and so is Gethron knowing some Sindarin, though I think that makes sense considering he did canonically travel across Beleriand and was the one who spoke to Thingol when they arrived in Doriath. We don’t know anything in canon about Ragnir except that he was blind. Sador’s story is canon, though I have added some embellishments here and there. Aside from Sador and Morwen, these name translations are all my own and extremely dubious, but I did my best.

Companions of Húrin ft. Húrin Thalion, Asgon, Ragnir the Outlaw, Dringoth (OC), Dimaethor (OC), Negenor (OC), Tondir (OC), Haedirn (OC), Orthelron (OC) This edit tells the beginning part of “The Wanderings of Húrin,” an unfinished manuscript that was cut from the final published Silmarillion. Húrin’s role in this tale is canon up through his departure from Brethil (that was where Tolkien left off); the way that he left his companions a final time is my headcanon. Asgon and Ragnir are the only names of his companions we know from canon; Asgon’s role as a former outlaw who had known Túrin when he returned to Dor-lómin and started a rebellion is canon, and Ragnir’s pessimism (asking to go home) and his relative youth is also from canon. Everything else about these outlaws is my headcanon, including my reasons for why they weren’t present at the Nírnaeth where literally all the able-bodied men of the House of Hador had perished (except for Húrin). Húrin did go to Nargothrond after Brethil, but I made up everything past that point. We know that there were some Edain at the Havens of Sirion (and presumably there were Men present in the War of Wrath that Elros mingled with before becoming their King), so I thought this could be a way for the remnant of the Haladin (and some of the House of Hador) to get there. I’ll go over the rest of “The Wanderings of Húrin” in future edits, when we get to the relevant Haladin characters.

Gaurwaith ft. Neithan, Beleg Cúthalion, Forweg, Andróg, Andvír, Algund, Ulrad, Orleg, Blodren This is largely a canon-compliant overview of Túrin’s life among the outlaws. The stories of Forweg and Andróg (and Beleg and Túrin/Neithan) are canon (though I did take that extra step and marry off Túrin and Beleg). Orleg’s story is canon, though it’s one that I had overlooked on my various readthroughs of Túrin’s Silm chapter & CoH. Algund and Ulrad’s stories are presented in a slightly tweaked/condensed form; Andvír’s origins as the son of Andróg (??? when did he have a son and why is it never mentioned in the main story???) are canon but (as expressed in parentheses) rather baffling, so I didn’t really emphasize him. Blodren is a character who isn’t in the later drafts of this story; he was an Easterling who was tortured by Morgoth because he “withstood Uldor the Accursed,” and eventually turned into a spy for Morgoth. (As with all Easterling names, his etymology is entirely made up.) He “served Túrin faithfully for two years” before fulfilling the role later taken up by Mîm and betraying the Gaurwaith to the orcs. He was killed by a “chance arrow in the dark” during the battle. I altered his story so that he wasn’t personally tortured by Morgoth and thus did not turn; since he was an Easterling and the rest of the Gaurwaith were Edain, I decided they probably treated him poorly, and threw in a bit of a friendship with Mîm as a nod to how Mîm took over his role. Also, I think Easterlings having pre-existing relationships with dwarves is a cool concept—especially since Bór’s people and Azaghâl’s people both served under Maedhros at the Nírnaeth, and could possibly have had the chance to interact!

~~~

CONTINUED IN APPENDIX C

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 23

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account whenihaveyouromione for chapter related fanart, challenges and sneak peeks.

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Chapter 23

How was it, Ron found himself wondering, August? It had been two months since Hermione and Ginny had come back from Hogwarts and a month since he and Hermione had found their flat in Diagon Alley. 

And, it had been two months of happiness like no other. Ron liked living with Hermione. In fact, he loved it. This had been the longest period of time they had spent together since actually getting together, and it was going extremely well. 

Weirdly, he found they argued less than they used to these days, despite being in closer proximity to one another all the time. Sure, small arguments followed them — things like who was going to cook that night, or how Hermione thought the picture frame she’d bought looked better on one side of the wall, whereas Ron would have preferred it to not be hanging up at all. But beyond that, they found themselves getting along very well, which pleased Ron.

He liked making her happy, and he liked being the reason she smiled or why she spent the day in a good mood, all because he’d kissed her good morning or told her he loved her. For some reason, he always seemed to find a way to make her laugh, even when she was worrying about what the future held for her. 

Which had been the case ever since her NEWT results had arrived. She had pondered, stressed, and gone over each job offer over and over, writing a list of pros and cons for each, throwing the lists away, and then rewriting them until she had twelve inches of parchment on each one. She’d asked Ron for his opinion numerous times, where he’d simply told her she’d be amazing in whatever she chose (which was true, because it was Hermione, and she excelled at anything she did). His lack of decision making on her behalf had stressed her out even more, until he’d caved.

“Alright, well, it’d be cool if you accepted the Magical Law offer, because then we could work together.”

“But… I’m just not sure I want to do that,” Hermione replied, which had been her response to every job. 

“Well, I’m sure if you asked any department in the Ministry, or went to McGonagall and asked for a job, they’d offer you something,” Ron said, stifling a yawn on the second week of discussing her future career every night. 

“But you’d hate me going to Hogwarts again,” Hermione said, though Ron saw in her eyes she was contemplating the idea of teaching. 

Ron shrugged. “We’d work it out. Besides, who am I to stop you from doing what you want?” He said the words because it was the right thing to say, but really, he knew she was right. He would hate it. 

Hermione bit her lip, once again looking over the offers. Then, something changed in her expression. She set two of the offers aside and set the other one in front of her. 

“That was a quick decision after two weeks of going backwards and forwards,” Ron said. He peered over at what she had chosen. “Magical Creatures?”

Hermione gave what seemed to be an attempt at a definite nod, but Ron noticed some uncertainty still. “I… I think this is the right place for me. I mean, I do feel very strongly about magical creatures, and… and maybe I can make a difference or something…” She scanned the letter and nodded again. “Yes, this is where I think I need to go.”

“Alright,” Ron said, grinning. “You’ll be great, whatever you do in there.” He also read the letter. “It doesn’t really specify what you’ll be doing, though, does it?”

“No… but I suppose I have to start somewhere down the bottom? I’ll be learning.”

“Well, you may as well write now and let them know. I bet they’ll be thrilled to have you. I know the Magical Law department will be disappointed, and no doubt Percy will be confused as to why you’d reject his offer, but… that’s a good decision.”

Hermione nodded, immediately jumping up to find a quill and some parchment. After she’d written her response to accepting the offer in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she scribbled down rejection letters for the other two. 

“I’ll just… go and post these now,” she said after she’d sealed them. “Honestly, I’m so glad we live right near the post office — it’s so convenient.”

“Would be even more convenient if we had our own owl,” Ron said. 

“Maybe,” Hermione said dismissively. “I’ll be back soon,” and she was gone, hurrying through the door and down onto the street. 

Ron shook his head. He’d brought the idea of an owl up a few times, though Hermione had not seemed too keen on it. Apparently having Crookshanks — who was far from impressed about the small space he suddenly found himself confined to — was more than enough for the time being. 

Every time he mentioned it, he found himself longing for his owl, Pigwidgeon, who’d gone missing at some point during the war, most likely killed on a flight to deliver a letter. Ron had never been overly fond of the owl, but he — well, he had been fond of Pig if he was being honest — and he wished they could get another one. 

Hermione returned from the post office half an hour later, declaring that she’d sent off her acceptance for the Magical Creatures job, and — to Ron’s surprise — carrying a cage with a small, brown owl. 

“Hermione, what is —”

“You said you wanted an owl,” Hermione said, smiling. “Have you ever noticed the post office sells some of its unwanted owls?”

“Yeah, because they’re useless at delivering mail,” Ron said, his moment of elation deflating very quickly. Of course Hermione would choose an owl that she considered in dire need of help, rather than one that would do the job it was supposed to do. He eyed the owl with disappointment. 

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said, setting the cage down in the corner by the window that overlooked Diagon Alley. She took out her wand and Transfigured the cage into a perch. “I know they do that sometimes, but apparently it’s not the case this time.”

“What’s wrong with it, then?” Ron asked, now watching as the owl flapped its wings excitedly, taking in its new home.

“Nothing,” Hermione said. “Nothing at all. They just said they had far too many medium-distance owls. People are using the Floo Network and Portkeys and Apparition more freely these days and prefer to deliver their messages in person.”

“Oh, right,” Ron said, not completely convinced. “So, this one’s alright then?”

“As far as I know,” Hermione said, nodding. “They said her name was Arwen. I thought that was a nice name.”

“Well, as long as she does what she’s meant to, then I suppose she’ll do,” Ron said, offering a finger to the owl, who nipped it affectionately. 

“It will be easier to have one here,” Hermione confessed. “I just… hope Crookshanks tolerates her.” She eyed the cat warily. Crookshanks had just slinked out from the bedroom — his favourite sleeping place — and was now watching Arwen with a hungry expression. 

“We’ll leave the window open,” Ron said. “For a quick escape.”

Hermione didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. 

But she had been right about it being easier having their own owl, and over the next two weeks, Crookshanks and Arwen learnt to appreciate each other in the house; though at times, Ron caught Crookshanks eyeing the owl off as if hoping to have a second dinner. 

The first Monday of August came two weeks after that, and Ron once again found Hermione waking up before him. Wandering into the kitchen, she was already dressed in the Ministry robes she’d been sent. She sat at the table, a piece of toast in front of her with only one small bite taken from it. 

“Excited for today?” he asked, coming over to kiss her. “You’ll do great.”

“I don’t think I know anything about magical creatures,” Hermione said by way of greeting. “I know nothing, in fact. I don’t know —”

“You know more than I do,” Ron said. 

Hermione glanced up, her eyes narrowing as she looked over his bedraggled appearance. “Aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Um, no?” Ron said. “I don’t start for another ninety minutes. And —” he nodded at her, “— neither do you, for that matter.”

“Yes, but didn’t I ask you to come with me early?” Hermione said, her voice higher than usual.

“Yeah, and didn’t I say that was unnecessary?” Ron retorted. “You only need to get there fifteen minutes or so before nine. It’ll be fine. You’ll do great.”

But, it seemed that Hermione was in no mood for Ron’s casual approach towards her first day. “Please, Ron. I want to get there at least half an hour early. Maybe even longer… please.”

“Hermione, you really don’t need to —” But upon seeing her expression and how terrified she looked, he stopped what he was going to say and nodded. “Alright, I’ll go with you early. Just let me shower and eat something first.”

Hermione returned his nod and reached out a hand across the table to take his. She squeezed it. “Thank you, Ron.”

“No problem,” Ron said, smiling. “Anyway, it may give me some time to catch up on paperwork. Do you know they even give trainees paperwork?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, “because you’ve only been complaining about it for the last month.”

“Well, it’s lousy. I mean, we should be learning the practical things, you know? Paperwork can be for later.” He stood up and shuffled towards the bathroom. He was going to look a right fool arriving so early at the Ministry. 

…

To his surprise, however, Harry had beaten him. Ron had arrived with Hermione in the atrium a little after eight. It wasn’t as busy as he was used to, but it was still bustling with workers, all eagerly heading towards their respective departments and offices. Unsurprisingly, Ron spotted Percy hurrying along. His brother may have changed in attitude since the war, but his obsessiveness over work had not changed one bit. 

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked Harry when he stepped into the Auror Office. Hermione trailed nervously behind him, suddenly terrified at being in a place she had spent a lot of her free time visiting Ron. 

“Preparing,” Harry muttered, and Ron noticed he was shuffling some papers in front of him. 

“What for?” Ron questioned, coming to peer over Harry’s shoulder. Spread out before him, Harry had essays written on none other than Draco Malfoy and his parents. “Oh, of course. I completely forgot about that!”

“Yeah, well, lucky you,” Harry said, and he looked nervous. 

The Malfoys had spent the last year and a bit kept under twenty-four-seven house arrest. They were unable to leave their house for any reason at all. The only thing currently keeping them out of Azkaban was that the Ministry was waiting for more qualified people to deal with their case. Like the last time Voldemort had been defeated, the Malfoys immediately claimed their lack of involvement in the war, trying to save their own necks and not caring about who they brought down with them. 

In the countless interviews that had followed the war, Lucius Malfoy had apparently named and shamed every single Death Eater who had gone into hiding, giving himself temporary immunity for his information, and probably making some very unpleasant friends who were now locked up in Azkaban. 

But, it was finally time for the Malfoys to be trialled, and as Harry had had some dealings with them towards the end of the war, he had been instructed to testify about their involvement in it.

Ron had laughed when he’d found out, sure that Harry would send all three of them to the cold, dark cells of Azkaban (where, in Ron’s opinion, they all belonged), but then Harry had explained that he didn’t intend to do that at all. 

“As much as I dislike him, Draco was a product of manipulation. And, if it weren’t for Narcissa, I wouldn’t be here.” However, Harry had nothing pleasant to say about Lucius and intended to ensure he spent the rest of his life in prison. 

“They’ll listen to you, won’t they?” Ron said. “I mean, they’ll do what you want? Draco and his mother out, his father inside. I still reckon you’re making a mistake. They’d throw you under the Knight Bus the moment your back was turned.”

“I’m not so sure,” Harry said. “After all, Draco didn’t give us away at Malfoy Manor…”

“And that went well, didn’t it?” Ron glanced sideways at Hermione, who had instinctively grabbed at her arm where her Mudblood scar was still very visible underneath her robes. 

Harry said nothing, but examined his notes once again. He then looked up, his eyes flashing to Hermione. “Oh, it’s your first day, isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded silently. 

“She’s a little nervous,” Ron said wryly. “You know what she’s like, overthinking everything…”

“You’ll be great, Hermione,” Harry said encouragingly. “They’ll love you there.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. She looked to Ron. “Maybe we should go…”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Ron said to Harry. “Merlin, I wish I could be in those courtrooms with you today.”

“I’d much rather be in training,” Harry said. He got to his feet. “Mind if I join you for a walk? I need to clear my head.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and the three of them left the Auror Office and headed toward the lift to make their way to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. 

They’d almost reached the lift when all three of them stopped in their tracks. Ron had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing correctly, then glanced sideways to Hermione and then Harry to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. 

Before them, looking more haggard than Ron had ever seen them, were the Malfoys. All three were being escorted to the very lift Ron, Harry and Hermione had just been reaching, by silent Aurors. 

Once proud of their blood status, of their family name, people who had always held their heads high, they looked utterly defeated. They were the bottom of the food chain now, kept locked inside for over a year and it showed. Their skin was paler and more gaunty than ever before. Lucius Malfoy’s hair was thinning in places, leaving bald patches where thick hair had once grown. He didn’t smile, but when he spotted Harry, something resembling anger flashed across his face. 

Draco and his mother barely noticed them, Draco only looking up when they stopped for the lift. Unlike his father, the youngest Malfoy appeared fearful at seeing them. It was their first encounter since the fight at Hogwarts, and by the looks of things, Ron, Harry and Hermione had fared much better than he had. 

Ron felt a sense of smugness that he didn’t at all try to hide. There was Malfoy, who had spent his whole schooling life tormenting Ron, reminding him of the Weasley family’s lack of wealth and promoting his own, calling Ron so many names that Ron couldn’t remember them all, looking very much the worse for wear. And opposite him was Ron, the so-called ‘blood traitor,’ considered a hero of the war. 

The lift doors opening and the Aurors forcing the Malfoys into it was the only thing that prevented Ron from pointing that out. Though, he couldn’t help himself entirely.

“I suppose Harry’ll be seeing you in the courtrooms. You may regret all those jibes at him over the years, considering he has your fates in his hands.”

Fear graced all three of the Malfoys’ expressions now, and Ron smirked, despite himself. The Malfoys hadn’t been told Harry would be at his trial. 

Ron glanced sideways at Hermione, as he’d expected her to reproach him for his comments, but she appeared not to have heard him at all. Her eyes followed the descending lift, a look of pity in her expression. 

“God, they look terrible,” she said. 

“You’re not feeling sorry for them, are you?” Ron asked, incredulous. “After all Malfoy did to you over the years? After all the times he called you a —”

“I just said they look terrible,” Hermione interrupted, a little stiffly. “Besides, we know Harry is going to testify in favour of Malfoy and his mother, so we’ll have to deal with them in society if the Wizengamot agrees with Harry, which they’d be stupid not to.”

“Doesn’t mean seeing them in society is something I’m going to enjoy,” Ron muttered as another lift arrived and the three of them scrambled in. “Harry’s too nice, if you ask me. I’ll never forgive Malfoy for what he did. For all they’ve all done over the years. You wouldn’t understand — you didn’t grow up knowing all about the horrible things the Malfoys were known for.”

The topic of the Malfoys died as the lift reached level four — the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Already, there were plenty of people roaming this level, which gave Hermione a very green complexion. 

“Oh, stop your panicking, would you?” Ron said, stifling a laugh. He placed an arm around her waist, guiding her forward. “Where was it you have to go again?”

“The… the Being Division,” Hermione said nervously. As she spoke, they reached a sign with arrows pointing in all sorts of directions. “Left,” she said after a moment.

The three of them headed down a corridor, very quickly reaching large double doors with the signage of Being Division embossed above it. 

“You’ll be fine, Hermione,” Harry said encouragingly, and he patted her on the arm. “Good luck. Let me know how you go. Actually, why don’t you guys come over for dinner tonight?”

“Er, sure,” Ron said, surprised by the sudden invitation. “Let me know how the trial goes, won’t you?”

Harry nodded and practically jogged back down the corridor.

Ron kept his arm around Hermione, giving her a squeeze. “You really will be great,” he said. “You’ll be so great they’ll be wanting to make you head of the department within a month.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Hermione whispered. 

“It’s only the truth,” Ron said, shrugging. “Do you need me to go in with you, or will you be alright?”

Hermione opened her mouth, and Ron suspected she wanted to ask him to go in with her, but she closed it before speaking and shook her head. “I’ll be okay, I think. Thank you for coming early…”

“Not a problem,” Ron said. “And, try and meet up with me for lunch, yeah?”

Hermione nodded, turning to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. He kissed her. 

“You really will be great,” he assured her. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione said, and steeling herself, she pushed open the doors to the division and vanished from sight. 

Ron beamed, making his way back to the lift. He had meant what he said. She really would be great. Hermione was great at everything she did. He had no doubt that one day she really would be head of the department if she chose to stay there. 

…

Ron slumped from the training room at lunch time, feeling exhausted. They’d just spent the morning Apparating to multiple places around London, following planted leads as part of the day’s training. It had been fun, but tiring, having to move so abruptly over and over again. 

However, as the trainers pointed out at everything they did — these were all real life situations they were being put in. Occasionally, once they finished training, they would be chasing Dark wizards around the country, and most likely further than London. 

Dragging his tired feet to the tea room, Neville beside him, they collapsed into two chairs, not even bothering to look at what food was on offer. 

“I wonder how Harry’s doing down in the courtrooms,” Neville said after a moment. “I wonder if the Malfoys…”

Ron glanced at Neville, feeling a moment of pity for him. Malfoy had made Neville’s life hell, too, and because of that Ron had not bothered to tell him that Harry planned on letting Draco off the hook. Instead, he shrugged, “We’ll find out soon, I suppose.”

A moment later, Hermione hurried into the room as well, looking frantic as she drew up a seat with them.

“Looks like you had just as fun a morning,” Ron said. “You alright?”

“Yes!” Hermione breathed. “I just… got lost on my way here…” She waved a hand around the room. “The Ministry is so much bigger than I thought…”

“You get used to it,” Ron assured her. “How’d it go?”

Hermione nodded, regaining her breath. “Oh, it was great! Do you know why they offered me this job to begin with?”

“Because you’re amazing?” Ron guessed.

“No, because they heard… they found out about SPEW! They want me…” She was so excited she could barely finish her sentence. 

“Go on,” Ron said, smiling.

“Well, they want me to start rewriting laws for the rights of all intelligent magical beings.”

“What?” Ron asked, taken aback by this revelation. Not because he didn’t think it was a good idea — he had learnt a lot over the last few years — but because rewriting laws was not something they usually asked new employees to do.

Hermione nodded, beaming. “They said they were glad that I accepted them, because they thought I had a really good understanding, and Kingsley, apparently, has asked every department to start thinking about ways to change the Ministry. And after I knocked back the Auror offer, he thought it would be a good idea to have me there instead. Even if I’d accepted the Magical Law offer, I probably would have been doing something similar anyway.”

“Wait,” Ron said, “to change the Ministry?”

Hermione nodded again. “Yes, apparently he doesn’t want it to be as it has been in the past. He wants things done a better way, differently. He wants more Muggleborns in positions of power, he wants to encourage better relations with Muggles in general, so maybe one day, the Statute of Secrecy can be changed — though that’s a long way off, I think — and he just doesn’t want things to be as they once were. He envisions a totally different Ministry, and he wants us — me — to help with that!”

“Well… that’s great!” Ron said, reaching across the table to rub her arm encouragingly. “I told you you’d do a great job. And look, they’re already asking you to do something more advanced than most would. So, you’re rewriting laws?”

“Well, obviously not immediately,” Hermione told him. “It will probably take years to get such laws through and passed and then put into place. But they want me to focus on house-elves, goblins and centaurs first. I’ll probably start with house-elves, truthfully. I’ve done the most research into that.”

“Great!” Ron said again, though this time, he couldn’t help but wonder why Hermione had found all of this out on her first day, where he, Harry and Neville had been working there for over a year now and Kingsley had said nothing to them. 

But there was no more time for conversation, for in that moment, Harry entered the lunch room. His eyes scanned it, and spotted Ron, Neville and Hermione. He made his way to them, grim-faced.

“How was it?” Ron asked as he pulled up yet another chair and sat down. 

“Really bad,” Harry said. “Lucius… he’s a piece of work… even in chains. But Draco and Narcissa are free to live their normal lives.”

“What?”

All eyes flickered to Neville, who was staring at Harry with his mouth open. 

“You mean Malfoy didn’t go to Azkaban?”

“... no,” Harry said, looking a little embarrassed. “They got off their charges. The Wizengamot deemed over a year under house arrest enough of a punishment for them. Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced to life in Azkaban, though.”

Ron noted that Harry didn’t explain to Neville that it was Harry who had testified against Draco and Narcissa. It would be in the Prophet tomorrow, anyway.

“Well, that’s good, at least,” Neville muttered, though he looked rather put out by this unexpected news. 

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione, who looked just as uncomfortable as he felt. 

“How’s your first day going, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Great!” Hermione said, and she relayed what she had just told Ron and Neville moments earlier. 

“Told you, you’d be great,” Harry said. “Also, Ron, Neville, I ran into Kingsley on my way up here. He says he wants to see us in his office after training today.”

“Uh, probably because we may have Apparated a little clear of the checkpoint today,” Ron groaned, looking at Neville. “Entirely my fault, but I swear some Muggles spotted us.”

“Why’d he want me there, though?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “Anyway, anyone want anything to eat? I’m starving!”

…

However, Kingsley didn’t want to speak to them for matters regarding that day’s training. He wanted to speak to them about something resembling what Hermione had said earlier — about changing the way the Ministry of Magic functioned. 

There they all sat, in the Minister for Magic’s office, not unlike the time where he’d offered them all Auror positions. But this time he was asking them for their ideas, not their service. 

“But Kingsley,” Harry said, looking hesitant, “we’re just trainees. Surely you should be asking the more accomplished Aurors their ideas.”

“Everyone will be getting their chance to have their say,” Kingsley conceded, “However, none of them have had such involvement in a war, or contributed in the downfall of Lord Voldemort, such as yourselves — yes, you too, Neville.”

Neville flushed, closing his mouth. 

Kingsley smiled at him. “You defeated a Horcrux, the final one, might I add, eventuating in the downfall of the darkest wizard of all time.”

Ron heard Neville mutter something about not knowing it was a Horcrux and clapped him on the back. “And you pulled the sword from the Hat. Can’t say I’ve done that, myself.”

Neville went even redder. 

“So, start thinking,” Kingsley said. “I am pleased to have Hermione starting work around our relationship with other magical beings, and the three of you sharing your ideas would be completely beneficial.”

“But… why?” Ron asked, still coming to terms with the idea that his opinion in such an important setting was valued. 

“Well,” Kingsley said, “as I mentioned previously, all of you contributed to —”

“No, I mean, why do you want to change things? The Ministry has run this way for centuries.”

“And, in your opinion, Ron, are you happy with how it’s been run in your lifetime?” Kingsley asked. 

Ron thought about it for a moment. He supposed he wasn’t at all happy with the way things were run, though he’d never really considered the possibility of an alternative. Was that even possible? How could the Ministry change?

“There are still people who work within these walls that share values of old,” Kingsley continued when Ron didn’t respond. “And, while good workers, I envision a Ministry that is inclusive and accepting of all, regardless of their history or blood status. There is living proof in Hermione that just because she is of Muggle parents, it has not inhibited her ability to perform magic at all. She’s —”

“The best,” Ron interjected. 

Kingsley nodded. 

“But, Kingsley,” Harry began, “won’t there always be people who believe in things like blood status? We can’t entirely eradicate such old fashioned views.”

“No,” Kingsley said, “but we can work together by changing their attitudes. The Ministry has earned a poor reputation over the last few years, and rightfully so, but I seek to change many things within it, starting now. The three of you have proven yourselves as exceptional Aurors in the making, and your history shows your quick decision making is superb. I’m not asking for answers now, but I’m asking you to think about it. How can we make it a better place for everyone? How can we change things so we can ensure what happened to the last few Ministers, doesn’t happen again?” He gave a wry smile as he added, “Call me arrogant, but I wish to remain in this position for some time yet. I’m rather enjoying myself.”

There was silence again. 

“I’m, of course, not expecting a change overnight,” Kingsley continued. “It will be years, I know, to get the big things happening. But I want you to be aware of it — to think about it. If you will?”

Ron looked between Harry, Neville and Kingsley, and saw that his friends looked just as perplexed as Ron felt. It felt weird that someone of Kingsley’s experience envisioned them as the future — young, barely out of school wizards who’d foolishly gone on a hunt for Dark artefacts that attempted to destroy them.

Personally, Ron thought Kingsley might have been banking a little too much on the luck they’d had along the way and less on their actual ability. Well, in Ron’s case, at least.

But he didn’t say anything as they left the office, all deep in thought. He’d still do as Kingsley asked — or at least try — and think of ways to improve the Ministry. One thing he did know that needed to change was the requirements it took to enter the Auror program. As was proven by the people who walked beside him, you didn’t need an Outstanding in your Hogwarts results to prove yourself to be good at the prestigious job. One’s experience, dedication and natural ability was much more important. 

[nightofthemeteor]

We Just Kind of Assumed

(A ficlet for Mitoka Melee Month - also here on AO3. Warning for implied/referenced homophobia, but this is happy fluff, I promise)

In hindsight, Mito could see how things had turned out this way.

The start of the term found Mito fresh out of high school and new to the city, nervous and excited and as determined to make friends as she was to succeed in her classes. It wasn’t like she’d ever had real trouble making friends before, but this wasn’t her hometown – she didn’t know how things worked here. So Mito studiously attended the welcome events her university sponsored, politely introduced herself to the other girls in her dorm, and cautiously checked out a few of the parties big enough for the invitations to trickle down to freshmen.

It was at a truly terrible house party in the second week of the term where everything started, and it started in a way Mito absolutely hadn’t expected.

She spotted the frat boy several seconds after he’d spotted her, and by that time he was already weaving his way through the crowded, noisy room to come talk to her. Mito, who had been nursing a drink in a corner and pretending she wasn’t acutely aware that she didn’t know anyone here, looked away quickly and tried to look busy – completely impossible, given that she was at a party and had nobody to talk to, aside from the frat boy sidling up to her.

“Hey,” said the frat boy. He was tall, with enough brown hair to shove into a messy bun under a backwards snapback, and by Mito’s assessment, probably good-looking enough that he was used to getting his way. “Are you a new student? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Mito bit her lip. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she was in no position to pass up conversation. “Yep,” she said, still not quite committing to it.

“That’s cool,” said the frat boy. “I’m in second year.” He leaned his weight on the wall beside her, clearly aiming for casual but coming off as slightly awkward, and said, “You looking for someone to – uh – show you around?”

At least that was quick, thought Mito, wincing internally. That come-on had been about as artful as the moving truck she’d seen crash into one of the dorms last week, but at least this ordeal had been brief. “Sorry,” said Mito – and then found her tongue stuck to the roof of her suddenly dry mouth. She could easily have said I’m not interested, or It’s getting late, I was about to leave, or I suddenly have a case of horrible diarrhea, but…this wasn’t her hometown, and things were supposed to be different here. Mito steeled her nerves, looked the frat boy in the eye, and said, “Actually, I’m a lesbian.”

The frat boy blinked. “Really?” he exclaimed – and then his face lit with an enormous smile. “Me too!”

“What,” said Mito. Shit, had she read this situation totally wrong? She’d just assumed –

“Oh, no – I mean, I’m bi. Sorry. Uh,” the frat boy stuck his hand out towards her, still grinning hopefully. “My name’s Hashirama.”

“Mito,” said Mito, shaking his hand bemusedly. This was – not the reaction she’d expected.

“Sorry about…” Hashirama waved his hand vaguely at the space between them.

“No worries,” said Mito, “But if I’m being honest, your flirting could probably use some work.”

Hashirama clutched his heart with the melodrama of a stage actor, hung his head, and gave the deepest sigh Mito had ever heard. Then, before she could react, his head popped back up, this time with a rueful expression. “Not my best attempt, I’ll admit,” he said. “But in my defense: flirting with girls is extremely scary.”

Mito laughed. She was still reeling from the turn this conversation had taken, but she was also immensely relieved – this was much, much less awkward. “It’s not that scary,” she said, almost automatically, though it wasn’t like she’d had much experience in that department herself. “Is it worse than flirting with boys?”

“Yes,” said Hashirama, and then held up a finger to say, wait – “But boys are terrible at flirting back.”

It only took a couple hours for Mito to find herself on the back steps of the party house, sitting beside an extremely tipsy Hashirama, admitting her fears about this new city, and in return listening to him rant about the guy in his classes he was sure would never like him back.

“Honestly, I was trying to find a way to take my mind off him,” Hashirama told her, big brown eyes shining tearfully in the glow of the streetlamps.

“By trying to pick up random people at this shitty party?” Mito asked. “That’s a terrible idea, Hashirama.”

“Yeah,” said Hashirama, and nudged her shoulder with his knuckles. “Good thing I met the right one, huh?”

They were best friends from then on.

---

Hanging around Hashirama meant that Mito was quickly introduced to his entourage. His friend group was a mix of eclectic and not always exactly harmonious personalities, but at least getting to know them helped reduce Mito’s lack-of-friends problem. There was Hashirama’s brother, Tobirama, who was reserved and cantankerous, but did offer to help her edit her essays, despite being in the same year as her. Then, there was the object of Hashirama’s admiration, Madara, who was loud and cantankerous, but also nice to her in kind of a brusque way.

And there was Hashirama’s cousin, Tōka. Tōka, who was on the women’s softball team, but was also studying engineering; Tōka, who liked to wear flannels and dark red lipstick; Tōka, who was a head taller than Mito, and was even taller than Hashirama in her thick-soled combat boots; Tōka, who had big hands and a sharp wit and a soft smile. When Hashirama introduced her to Tōka, Mito told the story of how Hashirama had introduced himself to her, sparing none of Hashirama’s feelings in the recounting, and Tōka reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

“I like this one, Hashirama!” She declared, and Mito, overwhelmed by Tōka’s dizzying grin and Tōka’s warm hand on her shoulder, nearly melted into the floor. In her desperation to conceal the blush she could feel heating her face, it never occurred to Mito that she hadn’t explicitly said she’d turned Hashirama down.

It didn’t take long for Mito to formulate a plan. It was simple, but then, nothing complicated was called for in this circumstance – not like Hashirama’s convoluted attempts to get Madara’s attention. Mito’s plan was as follows:

Become friends with Tōka.

Flirt with Tōka.

Ask Tōka out on a date.

It was simple; it was straightforward; and the first step was successful almost immediately. Tōka and Hashirama were roommates, so just by virtue of hanging out with Hashirama, Mito ended up spending time with Tōka. Over the course of a couple weeks, Mito learned that Tōka’s easygoing attitude was shot through with a serious competitive streak – just like Hashirama, although, as Mito learned, Tōka had better alcohol tolerance. She wasn’t as outgoing as her cousin, but it took very little effort on Mito’s part to strike up conversation. But most importantly, Mito learned that just like her cousin, Tōka gave physical affection as easily as talking. She’d casually brush aside a strand of Mito’s hair from her face, or sling an arm around her shoulders, or run a hand up Mito’s back to get her attention. Mito wasn’t used to that kind of casual closeness – it was driving her insane. Not that she really minded.

The problem was that Mito couldn’t tell if Tōka’s touches indicated interest, or were purely friendly. After all, Hashirama also had a habit of resting his hand on Mito’s shoulder, and of ruffling her hair (especially when she’d just finished tying it up) – and despite the way their friendship had started, Mito was certain he wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship. And here was the reason Mito’s plan was stalling on step 2: she could return Tōka’s touches, she could lean close to her over the study table or cuddle next to her on the couch, or reach out and tangle their hands together…but Tōka accepted all this without so much as blinking. Mito couldn’t tell if she even noticed.

Other people, however, certainly did notice. Hashirama picked up on what was happening almost right away, and immediately offered to be Mito’s wingman. Mito, having observed her friend’s own bumbling attempts at romance, politely refused this offer, but was privately relieved that he didn’t seem to mind her interest in his cousin (and was secretly elated that he thought she had a chance). Unfortunately, she couldn’t prevent him from sending her exaggerated winks from behind Tōka’s back. As supportive as Hashirama was, it came as an unpleasant shock to Mito that his brother, Tobirama, was most certainly not on board. More than once, Mito would put an affectionate hand on Tōka’s shoulder or laugh at one of her jokes, and feel Tobirama’s glare like ice on the back of her neck. Mito couldn’t figure out what his problem was – did he not think she’d be a good fit for his cousin? Or, was it possible…he didn’t approve because she was a girl? Mito couldn’t believe that was the case – Hashirama was pretty open about his bisexuality, after all, and Tobirama didn’t have a problem with him – but against all logic, Mito found she couldn’t shake the specter of doubt.

Then, three weeks into the term, Mito’s roommate came down with the flu, and Hashirama offered to let Mito crash at his place for a few days. Mito expected to be sleeping on the living room couch, but Hashirama insisted that, as the guest, she should take his bed. They compromised with Mito on an air mattress on Hashirama’s floor, and Mito spend the next couple of nights enduring his truly awful snoring. Yet again, it never occurred to Mito that this decision might have unforeseen consequences (aside from the snoring), and so, two days later, when Mito tried to join Hashirama and Madara for a study session at their local coffeeshop, she was absolutely baffled when Madara snapped his textbook shut and announced, “I’m leaving.”

“What the hell?” said Mito, watching his retreating back.

Hashirama heaved a sigh so pitiful that it reminded Mito of the way her dog would sigh if you stopped petting him for a moment. “Something’s been up with him for a while,” he said, miserably, “But it’s gotten worse all of a sudden. I have no idea what it is.”

“I mean, you probably did something to piss him off,” Mito informed him, reasonably, “But what did I do?”

Amidst this weird hostility from both Madara and Tobirama, Mito was relieved to find that Tōka, at least, was still friendly with her. That was a side benefit of crashing at Hashirama’s place – she got the chance to spend a lot of extra time with his roommate. Mito had plenty of time to work herself up to step 3 of her plan: ask Tōka on a date.

She dropped the invitation oh-so-casually, with calculated thoughtlessness; no sense making it out to be a big deal. “Want to grab a coffee with me tomorrow?”

“Sure thing,” said Tōka, barely looking up from her phone, and Mito, despite the apparent success of her invitation, felt her heart sink. That wasn’t exactly the response she’d expect from someone who’d just been asked out.

Still, she forged on: “Maybe at 4? You’re out of class by then, right?”

Tōka looked up at that, and then, to the confused delight of Mito’s heart, gave her one of her long, slow smiles. “Yep, you got it. I’ll see you then,” she said, and Mito once again began to hope.

She was thinking of that smile as she agonized over her outfit the next day – it had to be casual, ordinary, but still perfect – styled her hair extra carefully, debated over whether to wear lipstick, and finally headed to the coffeeshop exactly on time. Tōka was already there, waiting in line. Mito’s heart began to race – she called Tōka’s name, and Tōka turned around, saw her standing there –

And a look of unease passed over her face. It was just a flicker, just a moment, so that Mito could almost believe she’d imagined it; even so, Mito felt her heart drop. This wasn’t what she’d been hoping for at all. But it was too soon to back out, and so Mito pasted on a cheerful smile and went to meet her friend for coffee.

The drinks were tasty, but the conversation was stilted, awkward in a way it never had been before. Mito had been imagining taking Tōka’s hand across the table, stealing her drink, maybe even sliding into the same side of the booth – but now she could only watch as Tōka’s eyes slid past her face. Mito could only think of one explanation for this change, and it didn’t take long for her worst fears to be confirmed.

“Um, I’m really sorry for asking,” Tōka said, for once looking uncomfortable instead of self-assured, “But…is this a date?”

Oh no, thought Mito. She had no choice but to be honest – no point in lying to her friend – but this one was seriously going to hurt. “I was kind of hoping so,” she admitted, and wondered if she could make it back to her room before the tears came. "But it's fine - " her voice choked a little; she forced the words out, "If you don't like me that way - it's fine."

“Mito…” Tōka no longer looked just uncomfortable; she looked wretched, so much so that Mito was a little taken aback. She seized her short black hair in both hands and said, as if the words were torn from her: “I like you – I like you so much. You’re beautiful and smart and fucking great and I just – I don’t – why are you doing this to me?”

“What?” said Mito, startled enough to forget her impending tears. She’d been expecting Tōka to at least let her down gently.

“I thought Tobirama was insane when he said you were flirting.”

“Wh…why would that be insane?”

“Because it’s wrong,” said Tōka, with such conviction that Mito felt as though she’d been slapped. Wrong? Mito hadn’t expected to hear that here, not from her friend, not from Tōka. She felt as though her stomach was trying to climb out her throat. Had her suspicions about Tobirama been right after all?

The words came out low and angry, in a voice Mito barely recognized as her own. “What do you mean, ‘wrong’?”

“Hashirama’s my cousin,” said Tōka, anguished, “I can’t do this to him.”

Once again Mito was thrown for a loop. Why would Tōka think that Hashirama would disapprove of her dating a girl? “Hashirama’s bi,” she said, utterly confused.

Tōka leveled an accusatory look at her. “Just because he’s bi doesn’t mean he’s polyamorous.”

“Wait – what?”

“What?”

The two of them stared at each other across the table. Then, finally, the pieces began to fit together in Mito’s frazzled brain. Slowly, she asked, “Did you think I was dating Hashirama?”

Tōka’s eyes were locked on hers. “You mean…you’re not?”

“Oh my god,” said Mito. She slammed her hands on the table, startling them both, and practically shouted, “NO! No, I’m not dating him! I’m gay! GAY! One hundred percent lesbian!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Mito could see the people at the nearby tables staring at them; in front of her, Tōka covered her mouth with her hand and let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched giggle. “Okay! I get it. But…I don’t understand…”

“Did Hashirama say we were dating? If he did, I’m going to murder him.”

“No, he never told us, exactly, but like – he went out hoping to meet someone, and then suddenly you were always with him. I guess we just kind of assumed?”

“Oh my god,” said Mito again. She jabbed a finger at Tōka. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you know! I thought you were homophobic or something!”

“No, no!” said Tōka, waving her hands in front of her, “I like girls! I swear!” She planted in face in her hands and said, through her fingers, “I like you! I felt so guilty when I realized.”

Mito, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt, reached out and tugged Tōka’s hands away from her face. “You like me?”

“Yeah,” said Tōka, breathless and holding Mito’s hands, and looking at her with the same expression of disbelief and joy Mito could feel on her own face. The world spun; the only thing holding Mito to the ground was the feel of Tōka’s hands in hers, and then –

Mito suddenly had a thought. “Wait,” she said. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Huh?”

“You said, ‘We just kind of assumed’. Who else thinks Hashirama and I are dating?”

Tōka blinked at her. “Uh, definitely Tobirama, but probably most of his friends too.”

“Holy shit,” said Mito.