#eleven missing assignments are better than twelve missing assignments

[bourgwesioie]

“If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.” //

the fact that i can’t paint, or sing, or write haikus, doesn’t matter. i can do these things (very poorly) just because i love to.

sometimes, it turns out, it’s fine to half-ass things. even important things. when something is really important, it’s okay to just do it to the best of your ability today. maybe tomorrow it will be better, or even perfect. today it’s just done, and that’s okay.

g.k. chesterton // if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing it poorly by karen banes

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-one

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty

-

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Sephiroth sends out a text message.

After an evening and night spent meditating, reading and cultivating, figuring out the ins and outs of his hardened meridian system and going through the files Genesis had had delivered to him, Sephiroth's come to the conclusion that meditation isn't enough. He needs to condition his body properly, and that means forms, that means movements - that means he really misses easy access to all the collected cultivation manuals of Qing Jing Peak's impressive libraries.

Ultimately what it really means is that he needs more space than his single room apartment has.

"If we're banned from the training room, where can I go train?"

"Goddess beyond, Sephiroth, it's supposed to be your day off," Genesis replies and then, soon after, "Just go to the training room. Who could stop you?"

He's really not sure about training in front of people. "Is that really the only option?"

"Well, you could do what you always do and just take a mission."

Mission, like the dozen or so on his phone involving Wutai? Which had a lot of kill everyone and exterminate the opposition and leave no one alive!?

Yeah, okay. Training room it is, then!

After carefully selecting an outfit that would look reasonably in character for the future Big Bad while also being a bit more comfortable than three different things of leather. And he still pulls on the, now slightly better fitting, leather coat with its huge shoulder guards, too! He should look… more or less in character.

People still stare as he makes his way through floor 49, other SOLDIERs in their much more comfortable looking uniforms and not so comfortable looking helmets. There's a handful of them hanging around, sitting by the window or chatting, SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds waiting for assignments. There are some people in lab coats hanging around there too, just as a reminder of the true nature of the program.

Sephiroth had read about that too - everything Genesis had sent him about SOLDIER and the things he is supposed to already know. 

SOLDIER, as much as they are the elite warriors of Shinra, their OP human weapons in the war to conquer the planet… are also lab rats. They'd all signed up on it in order to get those enhancements, and now Shinra's Science Department can do… just about whatever they want with them!

They're constantly being tested for performance and given experimental training, treatments and gear to test out. Almost all Materia and medicine Shinra produces goes through SOLDIER field testing before going into mass production. Because it's better that it's a SOLDIER dealing with the fallout if the Materia blows up in his face or the medicine makes him projectile vomit. They can handle it!

Ah, corporate dystopia with minimal human rights. Fun stuff.

Sephiroth walks past them all, barely acknowledging them, and aims for the training room. Which… really seems more like a testing ground, now that there's actual personnel there.

There's no one in the training room itself - but there are two technicians in the observatory adjacent.

"S-Sephiroth!" a lab technician stutters as he enters  - the only way into the training room goes through the observatory, past all the monitoring equipment and computers. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to train," Sephiroth says in his best villain drawl, motioning to the training room with Masamune.

"Ah, that's - director Deusericus told us -"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes. "Oh, so I can't?"

The second lab tech elbows the first out of the way. "Of course you can, of course! Professor Hojo would be thrilled to have your training data," he assures, though the words are clearly aimed, very pointedly, at the other tech. "What kind of program settings would you like? We have a selection of new enemy AI and different environments - including numerous Wutai-inspired sequences!"

Sephiroth hesitates. That… could be interesting, actually. "Something from Wutai, with buildings - no enemies." That might give him a sense of what Wutai was like, culture-wise.

"... How are you going to train without enemies?"

Do SOLDIER not do forms? "Hmph," Sephiroth answers and turns to the training room, waving the electronic sliding door open. "Just start the simulation."

Seems like he got his villainous demanding attitude right, because they do. Seems like short and to the point is really the best way to hide a supposed amnesia!

Soon Sephiroth finds himself standing in a courtyard of what looks vaguely like some noble family's estate, feeling strangely like he's in a dream where everything is just a little bit off.

The simulation is… well, it kind of feels like a weird amusement park version of Asia, a mix of Japanese and Chinese aesthetics. The buildings have Japanese architecture for the most part, with bare unpainted wood and stone - but the roofs are all elaborate hip roofs. The written language, what little he can see of it, is in Mandarin, but the calligraphy style is very Japanese, very lyrical and artistic but without much form.

There's no bamboo in sight. Shame.

But at least the false environment makes it feel a little less like he's being watched - though he can still tell he is. Even with Sephiroth's burnt spiritual veins, he has pretty good senses.

Well, it's not like he hasn't trained with an audience before.

Unsheathing Masamune, Sephiroth holds the sheath in his off hand and takes a pose, breathing deeply in and concentrating. He still can't quite circulate his Qi, but he can sort it… flash it through himself in pulses, which lights up his meridian system and brings out the faults and snags therein.

Sephiroth is strong, hardy, seemingly endlessly durable. He's also fast, his overactive muscles easily going past the limitations of your usual normal human conditions. The issue is not quite his overall flexibility - but his… suppleness, maybe?

You need your veins to flex and contract for healthy circulation, and that's the same with energy. Thanks to the Mako treatments and the emphasis on stamina and strength, Sephiroth's whole system is just… hard. Every part of him is hardened to endure who knows what, and it gives his meridian system very little give. 

So that's what his form needs to focus on, increasing his meridian system's pliancy.  

All the while wondering if all SOLDIERs were working with these kinds of toughened meridians, Sephiroth pulses his energy and begins to move. Qing Jing Peak sword forms work well enough for him, it turns out - as spiritual cultivators, they also have to maintain certain spiritual flexibility, after all. He needs to adjust the forms to the sword he has, but that's not too difficult. A lot of spiritual swordsmen use sword glares to extend the shape and size of their cutting edge, so the forms already have some wiggle room.

Soon Sephiroth has a set of moves that work the best, making his pulses of energy work better and better, until his whole meridian system buzzes, active and alive. He can even feel the beginnings of activity in his frankly neglected dantians, as energy wooshes through him in waves. It feels… pretty great.

What he doesn't know is that on the outside it looks rather like Sephiroth just activated a Limit Break - by will alone.

-

Someone making waves, hehe

[maytheoddshq]

Damien Burr (he/him). District 9 Tribute. 50. Alexander Siddig.

Money had always made Damien’s world go round. He’d grown up in his business, since it was his mother’s business first. She always said that working him was better than selling him, and he had a good head for numbers and strategy. He was seven when he was taught the business of turning wheat into something far, far more lucrative.

They’d started him in the stills, with other boys his age. It was hard work, and the youthful energy was to the operation’s advantage. But he was too curious for his own good, asked too many of the right questions, and the next thing he knew, Damien was assigned to shadow the fences as they met with buyers. They’d sometimes him along when deals were being struck for a skim of the grain that the Capitol wouldn’t miss come harvest time. He was a charmer of a kid, and he proved himself useful. Damien decided early that he wouldn’t ask what his mother had done to get him here instead of killed when he got too clever, but he would make her sacrifice worth it.  He’d had all the trade routes memorized by the time he was twelve, so they moved him to smuggling.

Damien wasn’t just nimble, he was reckless. He could get across the District and back in record time if only because he took the risks no one else dared to. He never missed a Reaping Day, or his mother’s birthday. He was even the one tasked with training other kids like him, from time to time, the ones who were too smart, too clever, too quick. When he outgrew the reapings, and when his mother died, Damien forced himself to stand taller. His place was here. This organization was his family. He’d prove it.

If he were being honest, Damien had never thought much about the Hunger Games. It was a risk, a near guarantee that you’d die if your name was drawn. But Damien made money and had never needed to add his name in the reaping bowl more than was necessary. The way he figured it, there was nothing more dangerous about the Hunger Games than there was any of the illegal activities that made up his life. He’d be killed if he was caught, if not by a Peacekeeper then by one of his own to keep him quiet. The only main difference between organized crime and the Hunger Games, as far as he could tell, was that the Hunger Games were televised. He’d never worried when he was of reaping age, and then he’d aged out, and there was never reason to give it any thought unless it was on a screen in front of him.

But everything changed when the Vox Populi attacked.

At first, his orders had been simply to not bother the Vox. They were doing their own thing against the wishes of the Capitol, same as Damien’s organization. Then, his orders had been to turn a blind eye at what was being included in the shipments he was smuggling. Then he found himself turning a blind eye to members of his own team. Then the Vox declared Free Eleven, at least in small part, and he looked directly at it. 

Damien lived a good life and made good money. He learned early on to pay off the right people so that he’d never had to worry about anything. But he’d spent years working alongside those who had a different tale to tell. He’d spent his livelihood in defiance of the Capitol. There was never any way his story would play out that didn’t see him join the most powerful rebel force that Panem had ever seen.

It was different once he got involved. He read their literature and believed in their fight, and it made him care about things he hadn’t otherwise. He was forced to recognize every horror inflicted on the people of Panem. And it wasn’t guilt, necessarily - he hadn’t done anything wrong and had spent his entire life refusing to lick the boots of the government - but a twist in his guts at the horrors drove him to pick up a glass, and then another, and then another.

He had a handle on it, he was sure. Maybe he was a touch more cynical than usual, less charming, but he was effective. He still did his job. And the drinking made it easier to be reckless, to take the risks and prove that he was the best at what he did.

When the rules changed, and everyone Damien knew was eligible for reaping, he briefly considered making a run for it, making his way to Free Eleven and…and then what? That was the rub. His world revolved around money and a big middle finger to the Capitol. What would he do in a country where there was no established economy or trade, and nothing to fight over? No, Damien would remain with the Vox, and keep fighting the good fight. 

He knew the odds. Organized crime and Reaping Day were no different in chances of getting caught. It was up to fate. But the odds weren’t just out of his favor, they were stacked against him. Damien’s name was read aloud, and as he was taken to the stage, he saw a signal - he’d been sold out, and the Games would be his reckoning.

Positive: strategic, friendly, brave

Negative: cynical, reckless, calculating

Token: he doesn't have one

PENNED BY: GRETA

[penguicorns-are-cool]

my assignment was to diagnose a fictional character but turns out I was supposed to make it brief so now I have to delete most of this. I don't want to though so instead I'm just moving it to Tumblr

Anne Cuthbert has ADHD

Anne Cuthbert is an orphan girl who was adopted by Marilla and Mathew Cuthbert. Anne is often characterized by her imagination and tendency to daydream. A significant part of her growth in the book, Anne of Green Gables, is learning how to manage her daydreaming and forgetful nature. Anne is often theorized to have ADHD among other conditions. Anne of Green Gables follows Anne from the ages of eleven-sixteen, so any behaviors that persist throughout the book have been present for over six months. 

Throughout the book, Anne often makes careless mistakes because she is distracted, daydreaming, or just forgot. Throughout the book, she manages to forget the flour while baking a cake and to burn a pie because she forgot it was in the oven. Marilla notices early on that while doing chores Anne will often start daydreaming and forget to finish her task, sometimes wandering off, a habit which Anne improves on but which still continues throughout the series. One of the biggest signs of Anne’s ADHD is how much she talks. Anne is constantly talking with rants that often take up a whole page or two. She is known to interrupt conversations because she gets distracted by her own thoughts and surroundings, and because of this, people tend to think she isn’t paying attention and her conversations are oftentimes one-sided because she talks too fast for others to keep up with her. She is also incredibly impulsive. Throughout this book, she breaks her ankle falling off a roof because of a dare, dyes her hair green by accident (this was a bigger deal for Anne than it would be for us because Anne’s culture sees hair dye as vain and wicked), and accidentally jumps on her friend, Diana’s elderly aunt who was sleeping in bed. 

These symptoms affect Anne’s home life when she accidentally ruins dinner or fails to complete chores because of her forgetfulness, and her social life when her impulsivity and talkativeness lead her to offend the wrong person for reasons she is not always sure of. Though we do not see Anne for much of her life before the age of twelve, we do see that she had all of these symptoms at age eleven, and Anne’s occasional references to being punished for talking or daydreaming in the past tell us that she’s had these symptoms for years. 

Anne meets all the diagnostic criteria for ADHD. Using only evidence from the book, Anne has Predominantly Inattentive ADHD, but I do believe if she were to be assessed in real life she would be diagnosed with Combined Presentation ADHD. Though no disorder explains these symptoms as well as ADHD, it is likely that Anne has comorbid disorders, especially considering her traumatic upbringing.

Inattentive Traits:

Anne is often forgetful in daily activities leading her to make careless mistakes

Often fails to give close attention to details or makes careless mistakes in schoolwork, at work, or during other activities (e.g., overlooks or misses details, work is inaccurate).

Is often forgetful in daily activities (e.g., doing chores, running errands; for older adolescents and adults, returning calls, paying bills, keeping appointments).

“The last time I made a cake I forgot to put the flour in.” Anne was 11 at this point and flour is a pretty important ingredient to just forget.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Anne penitently. “I never thought about that pie from the moment I put it in the oven till now.” If this were an independent incident I would consider it normal, but this is part of a trend of Anne forgetting dishes for meals or to start heating up food ahead of time. 

“My besetting sin is imagining too much and forgetting my duties. I’m striving very hard to overcome it and now that I’m really thirteen perhaps I’ll get on better.” Anne recognizes that her forgetfulness which leads to careless mistakes is a significant issue in her life. 

Anne often gets distracted by her daydreams and surroundings in the middle of tasks.  

Often has difficulty sustaining attention in tasks or play activities (e.g., has difficulty remaining focused during lectures, conversations, or lengthy reading). And Often does not follow through on instructions and fails to finish schoolwork, chores, or duties in the workplace (e.g., starts tasks but quickly loses focus and is easily sidetracked).

Often does not follow through on instructions and fails to finish schoolwork, chores, or duties in the workplace (e.g., starts tasks but quickly loses focus and is easily sidetracked).

Is often easily distracted by extraneous stimuli (for older adolescents and adults, may include unrelated thoughts).

Marilla observes that, “​​her most serious shortcoming seemed to be a tendency to fall into daydreams in the middle of a task and forget all about it until such time as she was sharply recalled to earth by a reprimand or a catastrophe.” At this point in the book, Anne is eleven and has just moved to her new home so it could be argued that this is appropriate for someone of her age going through a major life change. However, Anne has spent her entire life caretaking and doing chores for other families so it’s reasonable to expect her to be better able to focus on the chores Marilla assigned to her. Additionally, though Anne learns to manage her daydreaming by the end of the book, this behavior continues throughout the series.

“Anne, who had not been picking gum at all but was wandering happily in the far end of the grove, waist deep among the bracken, singing softly to herself, with a wreath of rice lilies on her hair as if she were some wild divinity of the shadowy places, was latest of all.” When the rest of her class was picking gum from a spruce grove, Anne wandered off and ended up late for class

Anne often seems like she is not listening

Often does not seem to listen when spoken to directly (e.g., mind seems elsewhere, even in the absence of any obvious distraction).

“Well, I guess I’ll light the lamp and get to work,” said Marilla. “I see plainly that you don’t want to hear what Miss Stacy had to say. You’re more interested in the sound of your own tongue than in anything else.” This is one case of Anne seeming to not listen when someone is talking to her. At this point Anne is 14 and Marilla is trying to tell her something but Anne keeps getting distracted by her own thoughts and interrupting so much that if Marilla didn’t know Anne well by now, she would assume Anne wasn’t paying attention. 

Hyperactivity Traits:

Anne is known to talk excessively and interrupt in conversation

“But am I talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn’t talk? If you say so I’ll stop. I can stop when I make up my mind to it, although it’s difficult.” At this point in the book, Anne spends a long carriage ride in a one-sided conversation with Mathew, who is quiet and rarely speaks. As the book and series continue, Anne grows to talk less, but she is still known to ramble on for pages at a time on occasion. 

“That is what I want to tell you, Anne, if you’ll ever give me a chance to get a word in edgewise.” Anne also often interrupts. This is from one instance when she was 15 or 16, but her tendency to interrupt in conversation continues throughout the series.

Often talks excessively.

Often blurts out an answer before a question has been completed (e.g., completes people’s sentences; cannot wait for a turn in conversation).

Often interrupts or intrudes on others (e.g., butts into conversations, games, or

activities; may start using other people’s things without asking or receiving permission; for adolescents and adults, may intrude into or take over what others

are doing).

Anne tends to go too fast for others to keep up

“Oh, she can talk fast enough.” The biggest example of Anne’s hyperactivity is her talking. She not only talks excessively, she also often talks too quickly for others to keep up. 

There is one part where Anne is doing patchwork and talks for ten minutes straight, but the passage is too long to put here. Though Anne learns to talk less as she grows up, her inability to stay quiet through boring activities was significant enough to count as a symptom. 

Is often “on the go,” acting as if “driven by a motor” (e.g., is unable to be or uncomfortable being still for extended time, as in restaurants, meetings; may be experienced by others as being restless or difficult to keep up with).

Often unable to play or engage in leisure activities quietly.

Impulsive

“Marilla. I was walking the ridgepole and I fell off. I expect I have sprained my ankle. But, Marilla, I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things.” Anne walked on the ridge of a somewhat high roof because she was dared to

“Now, then, what did you do to your hair?” “I dyed it.” “Dyed it! Dyed your hair!” Dying hair may not seem as impulsive now as it was for Anne. Anne lives in a culture where it is very frowned upon to dye your hair and where hair dye isn’t as common or reliable.

“That it was all my fault about jumping into bed on you last night. I suggested it. Diana would never have thought of such a thing, I am sure. Diana is a very ladylike girl, Miss Barry. So you must see how unjust it is to blame her.” The jumping on the bed incident was when Anne convinced Diana to run and jump on the guest bed with her without realizing Diana’s elderly aunt was sleeping in it. 

Though none of these specifically fit into any of the remaining hyperactive-impulsive symptoms, Anne is incredibly impulsive and would likely tick off more of the listed criteria if my view of her life wasn’t limited to what was included in the book. Because I feel some of the criteria couldn’t be checked off here just because either the detail was irrelevant to the book, such as fidgeting, or the culture of the time and Anne’s childhood circumstances would’ve likely forced her to mask those traits early on, such as walking away when she should be sitting, I’ve decided to include these moments of impulsivity as extra context for Anne’s character.

Criteria:

Several inattentive or hyperactive-impulsive symptoms were present prior to age 12 years.

Though Anne is only under the age of twelve for a short period of time in this book, she does exhibit all of her symptoms when she is eleven and it is implied that she’s dealt with many of these symptoms for years. Anne occasionally mentions how she was punished for talking too much or making careless mistakes in the past

Several inattentive or hyperactive-impulsive symptoms are present in two or more settings (e.g., at home, school, or work; with friends or relatives; in other activities).

This one is difficult because very little of Anne’s school life is shown in the book. Most of her symptoms are clearly present both at home and with friends.

There is clear evidence that the symptoms interfere with, or reduce the quality of, social, academic, or occupational functioning.

Yes. Anne’s carelessness and daydreaming affect her ability to do chores around the house and she has ruined at least two cakes and one pie due to carelessness while baking. Anne’s talkativeness and impulsiveness have also led to her offending others without meaning to or realizing it. 

The symptoms do not occur exclusively during the course of schizophrenia or another psychotic disorder and are not better explained by another mental disorder (e.g., mood disorder, anxiety disorder, dissociative disorder, personality disorder, substance intoxication or withdrawal).

While Anne may have other disorders, which should be looked into especially considering her traumatic upbringing, it is more likely that Anne has comorbid psychiatric disorders than a disorder that explains these symptoms better than ADHD.

[sitp-recs]

hi! i love your fic recs. i was wondering if you had any recs for long drarry fics with like little to no smut or like where it's more implied and not really explicit

Hi anon, I certainly do! Here are some amazing T-rated long fics, can’t rec them enough 🙌🏼

Like Lightning at your Fingertips by potterwatch (2019, T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re an insomniac, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

A Piercing Comfort by talithan (2013, T, 44k)

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy's patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he's no longer sure he wants to.

Turn From Stone by @harryromper (2019, M, 45k)

Harry knows there’s nothing he can do to stop Hermione (war hero, historian, author of the reissued “Hogwarts: A History”) once she sets her mind to something. Even an extremely risky last-ditch effort to restore the ancient castle and lay its newest ghosts to rest. What he wasn’t counting on was her insistence that Draco Malfoy be part of the plan.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (2020, T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

A Young Radical's Guide to Love by @blamebrampton (2013, T, 66k)

Memories of the war are still fresh, which is all the excuse Decent People need to do appalling things. In this quietly waged conflict, Draco Malfoy is happy to be on the right side of things for once, and even happier to find he’s not alone.

Running on Air by @tinyhistory (2014, T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Dwelling by aideomai (2017, T, 83k)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (2016, T, 93k)

‘You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (2018, T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (2019, T, 109k)

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It's super.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered (2020, T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Away Childish Things by lettered (2018, T, 154k)

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (2012, T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[cannibalisticskittles]

an act of kindness, ch. 16.5

pairing: unknown/reader notes: [16.5/16.5]. part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven., part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen, part fifteen, part sixteen, ao3 link. the theme for the epilogue :)

“You really think we’re ready for this?” you ask. You can’t keep the skepticism from your voice. 

Despite your trepidation, Saeran seems confident. “I think we can handle it.” 

“If you’re sure…” you sigh. It’s true that the two of you tackled vegetable stir fry like pros a few weeks ago, but this seems like a marked increase in difficulty. “Dumplings it is.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze. “It’ll be fine. Really.”

“Alright, alright, you’re probably right.” He’s not bad in the kitchen, and honestly, he picks things up pretty quick, he’s just inexperienced. But if he thinks you can handle it together… it’s worth a shot. You shake your head and look over the list of ingredients on your phone. “Do you want the left side, or the right?”

He considers the rows and rows of aisles that stretch before you. “Right,” he decides. 

“Alright. You’ve got vegetables, so that’s…”

“Carrots, onion, ginger, and cabbage,” he recites. 

“And if I’m starting from the left, I’ve got baking supplies, so… chocolate chips, brown sugar, flour…”

“We’ve got enough flour,” he says. 

“For dumplings and cookies?”

Saeran nods. “I checked before we left.”

“Alright, not flour, then,” you say. “Let’s see… pretty sure we’re good on soy sauce, but we definitely need more sesame oil.”

“That’ll be my section, won’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah. And… eggs and butter and milk will be in my section, so I’ll get those. What does that leave, are we missing anything?”

“Mmh…” he navigates to the recipes on his phone. “...I think we’ve got the ingredients covered, but didn’t we need a cookie scooper?”

“Oh, right.” You know you had one once, but you can’t find any trace of it. It may have been lost in the move. “That’s usually… in the middle of the store, I think. So whoever gets their things first will grab it.”

Saeran chuckles at that. “We’ll race for it?”

“I don’t think we have to do that,” you say, then grin. “…I'll be faster, anyway.”

“So it is a race.” Even with his mask on, you can tell he’s smiling by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

You raise your hands. “If you’re that eager to lose to me, suit yourself.” 

Before he puts his phone down, he navigates away from the recipe pages, and —

“Is that another new picture of me?” you ask. 

“Hmm?” He glances down at his phone, the background of which does seem to be a photo of you that you’ve never seen before. “Oh. Yes,” he says, fondly.

He holds it up for you to see it better, and you squint at it for a moment. You think you recognize when this was taken, given what you’re wearing, but…

“God, I hadn’t even realized you took a picture of me that day,” you say. “Sneaky…”

He just laughs. At least it’s a picture you find semi-flattering this time. It isn’t always, though he says you look gorgeous no matter what.

“Okay,” you say, “we have our assignments, let’s go, go, go!”

And you hustle to the far side of the store in search of baking supplies as he hurries to the opposite end.

Separating in public still makes you nervous. You can’t help but think about what could happen if he was recognized. But… he’s not in more danger than before. So long as he takes the usual precautions and obscures his face somewhat with a hat and a mask, he should be fine. After all, while Saeran’s rat bastard of a father — blech — is still as murderous as ever, he has no new leads. 

Mint Eye’s trial is well underway and, as far as you can tell — and more importantly, as far as Saeran and Saeyoung, who are far more experienced in sussing out whether anyone’s heard whispers of their existence, can tell — Rika and V have not said a word about Saeran. And, crucially, though he’s been mentioned a few times in testimonies given by various former-disciples of Mint Eye, nobody knew his fucking name. 

So he’s assumed to be another victim that’s mysteriously and tragically disappeared. And with his hair and eye color both different from what they were at birth… well, the prime minister has no reason to pay attention to rumors of a mint-eyed, white-haired hacker. So if Rika and V never say anything about Saeran, there’s nothing to tie those rumors to his true identity.

You do sometimes wonder why they’ve said nothing. Penance, perhaps. For everything they’ve done. It’s not enough. But they owe him this, at least. The courtesy of not actively fucking him over.

Right. Chocolate chips, brown sugar, and — flour? No, wait, Saeran said you have enough. If he took the time to check, he’s probably right. You’ve got everything you need from this aisle, then. Move onto the next one.

Milk, eggs, and butter are equally easy to find. Another aisle done. You did think of everything, right? You’re pretty sure you’ve accounted for the ingredients you need for tonight, but is there anything else? What about tomorrow?

…ah, there is one thing you might still need. You pull out your phone and open up the messenger. 

‘hey, i think we’re almost out of that cereal you like,’ you send. ‘if you’re going to spend the night again, you might want to snag a box.’ 

‘You’re just trying to slow me down so you win,’ he sends back. 

‘i mean, if you don’t want the cereal… ’ you send, along with an emoji of yourself shrugging mischievously. 

His response is an emoji of himself looking exasperated. 

God, you can’t get enough of these. You love that he captured that pouty frown of his. It’s adorable. 

That feeling is only reinforced when he follows that up with ‘cheater’ and then another emoji of himself blowing a kiss to you. 

You send back the matching one of yourself. ‘love you, too. ’

…you suppose you could use more paper towels. That’s close to the center but still sort of out of the way, so if you go get that, that’ll even it out, right? Keep the not-a-race more fair?

As you make your way to the center of the store, you leave the messenger and check the latest news. What’s the big story of the day?

Something about the prime minister, it looks like. Rumors about some new unseemly business that he’s supposedly been tied to have cropped up once again. He denies it all, of course, but…

You watch the clip without sound. 

Even without hearing what he’s saying, he looks flustered. That matches what he’s looked like the last few times you’ve seen him. Stressed. Tired. Sweaty. Like the cracks are beginning to show in his careful façade. 

Good. 

Before long, you’ve made it to the aisle with paper towels, and you add them to your basket. Now for the cookie scooper. If you get there first, well… you won’t rub it in.

There’s so much information that Saeyoung was able to pull from the agency as it was crumbling, and so much of it is terribly, terribly damaging to the poor prime minister’s reputation. 

To hear Saeyoung talk about it, the few secrets he and Vanderwood have let slip — carefully, carefully — over the course of the past few months aren’t even the most damning bits of evidence. No, Saeyoung is saving that for when the man’s deniability is thoroughly on its last legs, to ensure he has no more defenders left to save him.

It is… thoroughly satisfying, you must admit. 

…though it is weird that when you turn on the television or check the news online, there’s a not-so-small chance that you’ll find something at least tangentially related to you. Not just the prime minister, but Mint Eye as well. You are consoled by the knowledge that so far, the news you have seen is good.

The walk isn’t long, and you find the cookie scooper quickly enough. If he’s got his things, then you’re all set to make tonight’s dinner together. Fried rice is hard to screw up, homemade dumplings might be a flop, and chocolate chip cookies… don’t go so well with the other two, but they’re pretty forgiving, and they’ll be good to snack on at movie night with Misun and Saeyoung tomorrow. It’s gearing up to be a nice date night. 

…lately you’ve had far more date nights than non-date nights, but… you can’t really find a problem with that.  

‘got the cookie scooper,’ you send. ‘i’ll meet you at the registers.’

Before you stow your phone, you take a minute to admire your background: a picture of you and Saeran, your arms slung around each other and grins on both your faces. You think it looks better than the candid pictures he takes, but… they make him happy, and you won’t deny him that.

It doesn’t take long to find each other. 

When you approach Saeran, he hands you his basket — and his keys. “Go ahead and check out. There’s one more thing I need to get, I’ll meet you in the car.”

“It should only take a minute to get through the line,” you say, “it’s not like we got much stuff. If you wait a minute, I can go with you.”

“No, you stay,” he says. “I’ll be quick.”

You start to protest, but he shakes his head. “Please. It’s a surprise. For you.”

“Oh… alright,” you say. “But be fast! …the milk will get gross if it warms up too much.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he teases. 

So you check out and make your way to the car. 

You get a notification as you load up the groceries in the back seat, and once you’ve settled into the passenger seat, you take a look at it. 

It’s a text from Misun. 

‘The date is officially set for the grand opening of Jaehee’s café!!! It’s next Thursday at 8:00AM!!!’

‘exciting! ’ you send back. ‘we’ll be there! ’ And then, after a moment, you add, ‘have fun on your date!’

With you and Saeran out, Misun and Saeyoung have the full run of his place. She’s too polite to ask you to clear out so they can have privacy, but you’re sure she appreciates the chance to spend some one-on-one time with her fiancé, and now that you’ve finally got a place of your own again, it’s easier to make that happen. You owe her for letting you crash at her place while you were apartment searching — and besides, Saeran definitely doesn’t mind spending the night with you.

‘We will! ’ she sends. ‘We’ll see you at the same time as last week? ’

‘yeah, i think so,’ you send. ‘i’ll let you know if we have to change the time around, but we should be good to go for 6:00.’

‘Great! See you then!’

You kick your feet up on the dashboard as you wait for Saeran.

He and Saeyoung, they’re… it’s… better, between them. Not perfect, of course. They’re a long way from that. But… better. Saeran is able to be around him now, most of the time. 

It’s not always comfortable. It can be tense. Awkward. And there are occasional steps back. Saeran can be… harsh, when old memories surface. Lashes out, sometimes. But… there has been growth.

They talk.

Sort of. 

It’s always… fairly shallow when you’re around. Surface-level. A comment here and there. A question or two. You know they talk some when you’re not there but you’re not sure how in-depth those conversations get. You can guess — sometimes he’ll mention that he talked with Saeyoung again, but doesn’t want to go into details… and then, a little later, he’ll start talking to you about his mother, or, more rarely, about Rika, and you assume that that’s connected — but you don’t want to pry. Saeyoung is his brother, and Saeran is an adult, and you don’t need to micromanage their relationship, especially when they’re moving at a pace that’s working for them. 

Hell, that first movie night, Saeyoung joked that it was a double date and Saeran only grumbled a little and you’re pretty sure you caught him smiling afterwards, ever-so-slightly. 

The letter-writing has helped, you think. 

Actual therapy is out of the question for now — still too risky, too hard to be anonymous, though after some gentle urging from you, Saeran’s been mulling over the idea of audio-only sessions in combination with a ridiculously secure VPN, along with other complicated methods of virtual protection that you honestly only sort of comprehend. So for now, he’s been trying out some… self-help techniques. Thus: letter-writing. 

He doesn’t send most of them. 

He writes some to you. Some he gives. They’re very romantic. But some, he keeps. 

The ones he writes to himself are more like… journaling. Writing down everything he remembers, and having those memories in one place. A record to look back on. 

You know he’s written some to his brother. You don’t think he’s given Saeyoung any of them, but you also don’t think he got rid of them. You aren’t sure if those are journaling, too, or if he intends to let Saeyoung read them eventually. 

He burns the ones he writes to his parents, and the one — singular — letter that you know he wrote V. 

And Rika… gets several letters. Unsent, of course; she’s currently involved in a high-profile criminal case and would most certainly have her mail checked before it’s given to her. But you’re pretty sure there are some that have not been burned. You… wonder if he holds onto them in the hope that one day she’d be able to read them. 

He still struggles with how to think about her. How to sort out the kind words and the praise and getting him free of his mother, from… everything else she did. Whether she believed any of the things he told him, and if it even matters. He might not ever get clear answers to his questions. You hope he can at least get some catharsis from writing his thoughts down. He deserves that.

…he’s really taking a while, huh?

As you’re about to text Saeran and ask where he is, he reappears, setting something you can’t see in the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat.

“What’d you get?” you ask as he settles in.

“It’s still a surprise,” he says. You make a face, and he huffs out a laugh. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“Fiiiiine,” you sigh, half-feigning being put out by this — and then you perk up as you remember the news you have for him. “Hey, Misun says there’s a date set for Jaehee’s café’s grand opening. 8:00 in the morning, next Thursday. I told her we’d be there. …you’re still cool with that, right? Because if you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine, no pressure.”

Saeran shakes his head. “I’ll go,” he says. “She invited me. Us. And it’s something to celebrate.” And then he smiles a little. “…I owe her a bouquet, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. Misun was the one to figure out that the mysterious bouquet left in his room was, in fact, sent by Jaehee. On Jumin’s behalf, technically, but still. “That’s a great idea, we should totally get her one. …and speaking of celebrations, maybe we should get something for Vanderwood, too,” you add. “As a congrats-on-having-a-job-again gift.”

Their lack of employment and the void left by Jaehee’s departure coincided nicely; Vanderwood is set to take over for her in the coming weeks. Though you hear Jaehee may have had a few warnings for them before they accepted the offer.

“I’ll put in a double order at the florist’s,” Saeran says. 

As you leave behind bustling city streets and start to drive through less populous areas, he takes his hat off, though he leaves the mask on.

His roots are coming in. Red, stark against the white. 

They’ve been coming in for a while, actually, but that’s what happens when you don’t do anything to them for a few months. He bleached it once, a week or two after… the hubbub at Mint Eye, but only that once. You’ve wondered how intentional that was, but you haven’t asked him about it directly yet, though you’ve danced around it with quick little comments. It’s… hard to ignore, now, and you don’t think he’d mind much if you did ask, so… you do.

“...hey,” you say. “You planning to touch up those roots? Should we have grabbed a box set of bleach?”

Saeran glances at himself in the mirror. “...no,” he says, after some deliberation. “I… think I’m going to let it keep growing out.”

You think about what that means. The implications. The idea that sharing another trait with his brother no longer bothers him. 

“...I bet you’ll look good as a redhead,” you say. 

“What, do I not look good now?” His tone is teasing.

“Oh, you do! And you’d look good as anything, to be honest. You’re just plain hot.” He laughs at that. “Gonna have to rework your emojis if you’re gonna go full redhead, though.”

“Yeah…” he says. “But it won’t take too much effort.”

You imagine what that would look like. Cute, no doubt. And you continue towards home.

Your home, technically. Not his. But… well. You and he haven’t technically discussed moving in together — again — but it’s… sort of a foregone conclusion. 

Even though you signed the lease, what, a month ago? A month and a half? You still haven’t fully moved yourself in. There’s boxes everywhere. Though, thank god your old landlord took enough mercy on you to throw your shit in a storage unit after all that time you spent not paying rent. It’s not like you could while you were stuck in Mint Eye, but there’s no way your landlord could’ve known that. The storage unit fees were steep, but it’s better than having no shit to box. 

With you still settling in, Saeran hasn’t exactly moved himself in, either, but… he stays over often enough. To the point where he knows the contents of your cupboards decently well. And he’s got the essentials here. Pajamas, a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush… and it would be a lie to say that he didn’t have an influence on your search for a new place. Everything you looked at gained or lost points depending on how much you thought it might suit not just you but you and Saeran, together.

And he and Saeyoung got the whole place pretty well kitted out. Not anything as dramatic as the apartment’s special security system, but it’ll do the job in a pinch. Some kind of ‘lockdown mode,’ they said. Saeran couldn’t spend much time here if they hadn’t. Or… he could, but it wouldn’t be as safe. It’s still currently safer for him to spend most of his time off the grid, but… one day.  

It doesn’t take much longer to get to your place, which is also sort of his place, and soon you are pulling the groceries from the back seat and pointedly not asking about whatever surprise Saeran leaves in the trunk in favor of splitting the bags with you. 

As soon as you step inside and close the door behind you, he pulls his mask down and kisses you. 

You lean closer to continue the kiss, but he pulls back with a slight smirk and chides you, “now, now, we’ll have plenty of time for that later, I promise.”

“Tease,” you grumble, and he laughs. 

“First I have to impress you with my dumpling-making,” he says. 

“Welllll, technically, first we have to get these cold things put away. But I’m looking forward to seeing your prowess in the kitchen. Let’s get cracking, yeah?”

So you do. 

And it goes — well!

Fried rice is a breeze, of course. No trouble there. 

The dumplings… are a lot of effort. You both get tired halfway through filling and pinching the dough closed, so some of them come out a little lumpy and uneven. But they’re edible. And delicious. 

You know you should wait until the table is set and you’re able to sit down to eat, but… you snack, both of you. In fact, you end up eating so many dumplings in the course of prepping the ingredients for cookies that there are only a few left, and you might as well get the cookies started before you eat the rest. 

Cookie-making is, as predicted, a simple task — though it is made more complicated by the all-out flour war it devolves into. There’s no clear winner, given how thoroughly coated in flour you both are by the end. You’re inordinately proud of the perfect flour handprint you managed to leave across his ass, even if it did leave you very open for retaliation. Worth it. 

When you’re cleaned up and the cookies are in the oven, Saeran excuses himself to go outside for a few minutes. He returns carrying… a small, potted rosebush, partly in bloom.

“It wilted a little in the car,” he mutters as he closes the door behind him. “Poor thing.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you say. Even slightly wilted, the rosebuds are a deep shade of red. 

“For you,” he says. “Or… for us. To grow together.” He looks a little bashful, suddenly. 

You smile at that, and come closer to run your fingers along the petals. “What’s the occasion? Is there an occasion?”

“It’s for our anniversary,” he says. He sets the pot down carefully on the kitchen table.

You frown a little as you do a mental tally of the time that’s passed. You know you haven’t hit the half-year mark yet; that’s still a while away. You’ve been planning for that. “I… think you’re a little off,” you say gently. “By almost two months, to be exact.”

He laughs. “Not that anniversary. …it’s the six month anniversary of the day we met.”

“Is it really ?” He nods. 

Huh. How did you not realize that? 

…well, no, actually, that’s not surprising. That day set a lot of things in motion, many of which turned out well in the end — like you and him, and the dissolution of a cult — but it was also the start of you being kidnapped into a cult, so you don’t look back on that particular memory all that fondly.  Not enough to mark it on your calendar, anyway. 

But you know he means well. And it’s not what it was at first that he’s celebrating, but instead, what it became. What you made it into. That’s why he remembered it, down to the day. 

So you drop a kiss on his forehead and say, “that is… so incredibly sweet, I don’t even know how to respond to that. That’s — Saeran, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he responds immediately. 

You lean into him, affection blooming warmly in your chest. 

“…I’m going to up my game,” you promise. “Every time I think I’ve matched you in thoughtful gestures, you go and do something like this.” He loops an arm around your waist and gives you a squeeze. “Just you wait, I’m going to get you… something spectacular. Truly phenomenal.” 

Those plans for your anniversary? Yeah, you might have to rethink those. Or rather, you’ll need to zhuzh ‘em up. Bring out the big guns.

“You don’t have to,” Saeran says. “I didn’t get it so you’d owe me. You being here is enough.”

“I know you didn’t,” you say, “and it’s true that I’m quite a catch. But so are you, and you got me a rosebush!” You give him a gentle nudge. “I don’t have to, but I want to. I love you. It’s a… a positive feedback loop. You do something sweet, I do something sweet, you do something sweet, I do something sweet… and each time it inspires us to do more and more. It’s the best kind of cycle.”

He hums a short, contented note and places a kiss on the top of your head. “…hey.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re doing good,” he murmurs. “Aren’t we?

“We’re doing amazing," you assure him. 

“…love you.”

“Love you, too.”

From the kitchen, the timer goes off. 

“Ah, the cookies!” You wiggle yourself free of his embrace, which he pretends to fight for a moment before he relaxes his grip and releases you. “We’ve already eaten, like, a third of dinner—”

“Or half,” he says, amused.

“Maybe more like half, yeah,” you admit. “But if we start eating the rest now, we should be finished by time the cookies cool.  And then—” You gesture to the rosebush on the table. “—we’ll find a place for this to live.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Saeran says. 

“Good!” 

Together, you head into the kitchen. Saeran takes the oven mitts from the counter and hands them to you. You slip one of them on, then pause. 

“…if we’re both taking care of it, there’s no way we’ll kill it, right?”

Saeran snorts. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much.”

And he’s been right once today already. You’ll put your trust in him. He’s earned that.

[lcnelyinthesky]

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed. 

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out. 

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight. 

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested. 

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything. 

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi. 

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises. 

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

-

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

-

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least. 

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light. 

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe. 

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

-

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge. 

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling. 

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height. 

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet. 

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain. 

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

-

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief. 

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him. 

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

-

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were. 

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know. 

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

Masterlist!

Here’s the masterlist of all my imagines and preferences! Imagines marked as * are smutty imagines! Imagines marked as ` are requests!

IMAGINES

CRIMINAL MINDS the runner ~ aaron hotchner` punishment ~ aaron hotchner`

LUCIFER make you a believer ~ ella lopez silence ~ lucifer morningstar

HEMLOCK GROVE get away ~ roman godfrey (part one) midnight drive ~ roman godfrey (part two)

AMERICAN HORROR STORY freak ~ xavier plympton (part one) protecting you ~ xavier plympton (part two)` a surprise by the lake ~ xavier Plympton` taken care of ~ michael langdon don’t worry ~ michael langdon` loopholes ~ michael langdon*` change in plans ~ michael langdon` revenge ~ montana duke

RIVERDALE grief ~ archie andrews the new queen ~ fp jones (part one) seducing the queen ~ fp jones (part two) the list ~ jason blossom something more than just points ~ jason blossom’ no one will hurt you` ~ sweet pea

THE BODYGUARD new assignment ~ david budd (part one) nightmares ~ david budd (part two) the photoshoot ~ david budd (part three) take away and beer ~ david budd (part four) art ~ david budd (part five) threats ~ david budd (part six) getting her things ~ david budd (part seven)

PEAKY BLINDERS not part of the deal ~ thomas shelby private ceremony ~ thomas shelby superstar ~ thomas shelby` too good ~ thomas shelby` can’t lose you ~ thomas shelby crossfire ~ john shelby an accidental addition ~ thomas shelby family ~ shelby family the enemy’s sister ~ thomas shelby (part one)` a dangerous love affair ~ alfie solomons a woman leader ~ john shelby disapprove ~ thomas shelby (part two) no one’s whore ~ thomas shelby* daddy’s girl ~ thomas shelby take a break ~ thomas shelby

THE WITCHER dance partner ~ geralt of rivia (part one) company ~ geralt of rivia (part two)* stay the night ~ geralt of rivia*` some sort of miracle ~ geralt of rivia same problem ~ yennefer of vengerberg my lady ~ geralt of rivia*` imperfections ~ geralt of rivia`

DOCTOR WHO always loved you ~ thirteen

GAME OF THRONES betrothed ~ robb stark (part one) riding alone ~ robb stark (part two)

Z NATION facing it alone ~ 10k’ let me go ~ 10k what are we gonna do? ~ 10k

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY love and drugs ~ klaus hargreeves the horror~ ben hargreeves’ no one helps but you ~ klaus hargreeves` and they were roommates ~ klaus hargreeves` lock the door ~ ben hargreeves*`

VICTORIOUS a little too good at acting ~ beck oliver faint ~ beck oliver`

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES living dead ~ damon salvatore eternity ~ damon salvatore*`

HANNIBAL are you going to hurt me? ~ hannibal lecter his type ~ hannibal lecter

BARRY what they do in the movies ~ barry berkman

BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY i have no one ~ freddie mercury

K-12 don’t send me home ~ leo` jealousy ~ angelita`

BREAKING BAD/EL CAMINO hideaway ~ jesse pinkman* project partner ~ jesse pinkman

DCEU the new intern ~ clark kent rescue mission ~ harley quinn man’s world ~ harley quinn

SCREAM scary movies ~ billy loomis talk me down ~ stu macher`

HARRY POTTER tutor ~ draco malfoy stood up ~ draco malfoy

MCU see you again ~ loki my hero ~ mysterio delivery boy ~ peter parker locked up ~ clint barton`

KINGSMAN not a damn damsel ~ eggsy

A QUIET PLACE keep quiet ~ emmett no time for love ~ emmett’

MIDSOMMAR get out of here ~ mark` may queen ~ mark` little sister ~ mark*` secret thrills ~ mark*` don’t go ~ mark’ sacred ~ mark’ seven minutes in heaven ~ mark*` friendship necklace ~ mark` it meant nothing ~ mark` awful ~ dani ardor` something’s wrong ~ mark` whoops ~ mark` enemies to lovers ~ mark`

1917 not the same ~ will schofield

DIVERGENT recruit ~ eric coulter’ rookie ~ eric coulter (part two) don’t belong ~ eric coulter`

8 MILE embarrassed ~ jimmy smith jr.

TWILIGHT soulmates ~ paul lahote`

THE DIRT glorified groupie ~ tommy lee maybe i should ~ tommy lee` be like daddy ~ nikki sixx` normal family christmas ~ nikki sixx`

DIARY OF A WIMPY KID done pretending ~ rodrick heffley the girl next door ~ rodrick heffley`

IT: CHAPTER TWO picking up the kids ~ richie tozier

LES MIS for the revolution ~ enjolras

CHRIS EVANS set ups

BEN HARDY doing him proud

MACHINE GUN KELLY not so bad (part one) remember me` secret meeting (part two) surprise` awkward family dinner (part three) staying the night (part four) out on the town (part five) a very special meeting (part six) feeling used` christmas in cleveland (part seven) lady killer*` we’ll be okay (part eight) the one` getting caught* sweet revenge` get off my girl` can’t do it anymore seeing it all` hear your voice*` do you love me?` one and only (part nine) photographs` why are you here?` happiest i've been` trying` i believe` welcome home*` killshot (part ten) i think i’m okay` it’s not over (part eleven) mistake` drunk fun (w/yungblud)*` reunited (part two of photograph)` bad girl*` fixed` meeting the family (part twelve) good enough` the question (part thirteen) kissing lessons` the wedding (part fourteen) too rough*` teach me` sneaking you out` red carpet` on beat` what if i can’t` role reversal*` massage*` secrets` celebrating*` almost caught` back off*` first time*` trying something new*` missing` not yours` hurting mommy` sweet disaster` loved you first` running lines’

DANIEL WEBBER nothing happened` misunderstanding` advice` loving father` beach day`

TARON EGERTON take me to the pilot*

RICHARD MADDEN lost`

YUNGBLUD not a rebound (part one) a great team` no hope (au)` cuffed, literally (part two)` sick baby` coming home` kisses` drunk fun*` (w/machine gun kelly) lessons` struggling` father to be` coachella` the song’ front row` love you as you are’ cliche`

HARRY STYLES saved (au part one) always a winner` exploring eroda (au part two) picnic (au part three) awkward

KENDALL SCHMIT just us`

CODY FERN distance`

ANDREW SIWICKI secret first date a regular guy` beautiful to me wear my hoodie`

DAVID DOBRIK only yours science experiment bon appetit`

DYLAN GARDNER surprise date`

JEFF WITTEK busy my oh my! passing the time* in trouble a fun game six feet apart you won’t be able to`

EMINEM surprise performance age gap’ private` chains`

ROOK pretty picture` love on tour` protective` toxic love` why are you like this?’ keep it down*` taking care` sick` you’re cute when you’re jealous`*

CILLIAN MURPHY proud`

GEORGE MACKAY medic (au)’

ARIANA GRANDE done with boys

SCOTTY SIRE stuck together

SEBASTIAN STAN the boss’ girl (au)

G-EAZY unimaginable pain` bad reputation` hate*` i do`

CORPSE proposition (part one) caught feelings (part two) actually excited

ZAC EFRON fatherhood`

HENRY CAVILL you deserve better`

AARON TVEIT i thought it’d be happy` a baby next christmas

PREFERENCES

tiktok trends that they participate in with you ~ the vlog squad who walks in on the two of you ~ the umbrella academy

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 39

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: Katie(oc)xKlaus. Warnings: None that I can think of. Let me know if I need to add one.

Katie and Klaus were spending their morning rolling around in bed, giggling and laughing when her phone started ringing. “Ignore it.” he told her between kisses when she looked over at it where it sat on the bedside table.

“It could be important.” She argued as she wiggled out of his grasp and grabbed her phone. She looked at it to see an unknown number and cautiously pressed talk. “Hello?”

“Scarlett, hey it’s me.” a male voice replied.

It took a few seconds for the voice that called her by her middle name to register. “Dad?” she asked, confused.

“Damon called and let me know you were back.” He told her. “I hope it's okay that he gave me your number.”

“Uh, yeah it's fine I’m just…surprised, I guess.” She told him as she pushed herself back to lean against the headboard.

“So I was hoping that we could get together sometime and try that talk again.” He told her.

“I’d like that.” she told him with a small smile as she watched Klaus move to sit beside her.

“I’ll come by your house this Saturday?” he asked, sounding happy.

“Actually the founder’s council has been cracking down on us vampires lately. They’ve even put vervain in the town’s water supply.” She informed him. “So that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounded disappointed.

“Why don’t I come to you?” she asked in an attempt to save the conversation. “You can text me the address of where you want to meet and I can come whenever.”

“What about school?” he asked with a fatherly disapproving tone.

“I’m homeschooling now.” she told him. “So long as my assignments get emailed to the school, I’m free to do as I wish.”

“Well, you always were independent.” He commented. “So when can I be expecting you?”

“Well, I don’t really have any plans so it’s up to you.” Katie told him feeling awkward.

“The sooner the better.” He told her with a bit of a laugh to his voice.

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning.” She told him.

“I’ll text you the address and see you then.” Her father told her.

“See you then.” Katie echoed back then hung up the phone. A minute later the address of a bar and grill called Rousseau’s was sent to her in a text message.

“So you’re leaving town?” Klaus asked.

“Yep.” She answered and moved around to straddle him. “I promised my mother I would find my dad and talk things out with him. I owe it to her to give him a chance.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” he asked as he slid his hands up her thighs under the red satin night gown she wore. “New Orleans is after all one of my favorite places in the world.”

“Really?” she asked, a little surprised. “Why? I mean, I know you lived there once, that’s why my father lives there now, but what’s so special about the place?”

“It’s rich in culture. They like to preserve their heritage. There’s also music, art and really good food.” He told her as he slipped his hands down her thighs to rest on her calves.

“Good food?” she asked as she slipped her fingertips over his chest.

“Have you ever had gumbo?” he asked and she shook her head no. “You should try it. I think you’ll like it. So are you going to answer my question?”

She thought about it for a second. “This is something I need to do alone. Besides, you’re needed here…Silas…impending end of the world and all that.” she answered, slipping her finger tips over his chest, drawing nonsensical shapes over his soft skin.

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” he asked and the tone of his voice implied he was going to miss her.

“I’ll definitely be back before prom.” She answered. “And I’ll keep in touch.” She kissed him then pulled back and stood up to look at the framed, hand written letters that hung over his bed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…what’s with the letters?”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask.” He told her and she looked down at him. “They are mementos.” He answered simply a little afraid to tell her they were taken off the dead bodies of his victims.

She noticed they were all love notes. “Did you take them so you can simply relive and revel in the deaths of the people they were taken from or to serve a greater purpose like making you feel something?” she asked, making him look up at her with a frown. “And there goes my nose, poking around where it’s not welcome again.”

“Your perfect little nose is always welcome in my business.” He told her as she sat down beside him. “Your understanding of my mind still catches me off guard once in a while.”

“Caroline told me that Elena said that during Stefan’s humanity-less time in the twenties, he would write the names of his victims on a wall in his apartment.” she admitted. “The only difference between that and this, is the fact that all of those letters were written from one lover to another.” She pointed out and he didn’t say anything back. “You know, vampires talk about the humanity switch like it’s a magical fix all. Damon and Stefan made it sound like all emotions cease to exist, but…even when it was flipped…when I was as numb as I was going to get, and when I really didn’t want it, there was still one emotion that tried to fight its way in.”

“And what emotion was that?” he asked, looking at her across his shoulder, wondering where she was going with this.

“The one more powerful than hurt and hatred.” She answered and looked across her shoulder at him. “Love.” He blinked, giving her the look that said she was once again doing that thing where she decoded and understood the cracks within him, the same cracks she shared. “I guess what I’m so poorly trying to say is…” she pointed up at the letters on the wall above them, “I get it.” she dropped her hand to her lap.

As usual when she did that, since he wouldn’t let himself tell her he loved her, he slid his arm between her back and the headboard and pulled her around to straddle him and pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss, pouring it all into her. “You are truly one of a kind, Little Phoenix.”

Katie smiled and looked down at his chest letting her mind wander to lighter subjects like prom that was coming up soon. “I have a question.”

“I may have an answer.” He replied as his hands slid down her back to hold her rear.

“If I asked you to let Tyler come home would you?” his face turned hard. “Not for good, just for prom.”

“Katie…” he sighed.

“Please?” she begged giving him her best puppy dog eyes. “Caroline’s my best friend and she is working her butt off to make prom perfect for everybody. Her night should be just as perfect as everyone else’s”

“Fine, but his welcome wears off at eleven.” He told her.

“Oh, come on, prom isn’t even over until ten thirty. At least give them until twelve.” She reasoned.

“No.” he told her flatly.

“Yes.” She argued with a half serious glare.

“No.”

“Klaus…” she drawled his name out warningly.

“Katie…” he mimicked her.

“Please, for me?” She pulled puppy dog eyes again.

“You,” he grabbed her sides and moved her around to lay on her back making her laugh when he tickled her sides and moved to hover over her, “are lucky you’re cute when you’re being demanding.” She slid directly under him and wrapped her legs around his hips. “He better be out of town by twelve or he’s dead.” He told her and she gave him a bright smile.

“Thank you.” she told him, still smiling.

“You’re gonna thank me with more than just words.” He told her with a lustful glare.

“Oh I am, am I?” she asked with a laugh and he hummed. “In a minute.” She told him as she turned on her stomach and slid up to grab her cell phone off the nightstand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Telling Caroline the good news.” She replied as she started texting Caroline. A yelp and a giggle left her lips when he grabbed her ankles and pulled her back to him. As she texted Caroline he peppered her back with kisses seeking out her ticklish spots just to hear her laugh. “Okay, where were we?” she asked as she rolled over and smiled up at him.

After a two hour flight she landed at the airport, hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of Rousseau’s. She texted her father to let him know she was on her way to the bar and grill then texted Klaus to let him know she had landed and arrived safe and sound. When she got the bar and grill and walked in she easily found Bradley sitting at a table near the window. “Scarlett.” He smiled when she walked over and sat down.

“Hi.” She greeted feeling awkward as she hooked her purse over the back of the chair and sat down.

A pretty young brunette waitress with a gap between her two front teeth walked over and took her drink order. “You should try the gumbo.” Bradley spoke up and the waitress looked at Katie. “Sophie here is the best cook in the French Quarter.”

“I don’t know about that, Bradley.” She told him with a flirty smile then looked at Katie.

“Sure.” Katie told Sophie with a nod remembering that Klaus had recommended she try gumbo.

“I’ll get that right out.” Sophie told her then walked away.

“So how have you been?” Bradley asked.

“Good, believe it or not.” She answered, still feeling awkward. “What about you?”

“Better now that I know you’re okay.” His answer pissed her off and he could tell. “Look, I know you probably hate me for leaving you with your grandfather, but I did it to protect you.”

“You thought that leaving me to come here and search for people that haven’t lived in this area for at least a hundred years was protecting me?” she asked, trying her best to contain her anger. He sighed and looked down at the table. Sophie walked over with Katie’s drink and a bowl of gumbo and set them down in front of her. “Did you know you and mom have empty graves in the cemetery?” she asked and he shook his head no. “I grew up telling myself stories about where the two of you disappeared to. That you guys were entered into witness protection and weren’t allowed to come back to me or that your bodies were buried in the woods somewhere or eaten by bears or something. Why didn’t you just come home and be a father to me?”

“Because a vampire was the last thing you needed in your life.” He told her quietly.

“And I call B.S.” she told him then took a sip of her sweet tea. “You, even as you are now, would have been better than Grandfather.”

“I was going to pay him a visit and give him a piece of my mind before I left Mystic Falls, but he wasn’t there.” He told her.

“Yeah that’s because I killed him.” she told him with a straight face and he looked at her, his green eyes wide. “Oh don’t judge me when you’re the one that killed my mother.”

“How were you able to speak with her again?” he asked clearly aggravated that she’d learned that bit of information.

“Bonnie Bennett brought Jeremy Gilbert back from the dead and in doing so cracked the door to the other side open. A witch on the other side wedged it open and let the supernatural spirits be able to interact with our side. For a while we were able to see and feel them. Mom found me and we were able talk before Bonnie fixed the balance.” She explained. “She is the only reason I’m here right now.”

“I’m really sorry I didn’t come for you sooner.” He told her seriously. “Maybe if I had you wouldn’t be what you are now.”

“Which is?” she asked as she picked up her spoon and started stirring the gumbo. It looked disgusting despite its mouth watering smell.

“A vampire…and whatever getting Hannah’s memories has turned you into.” He answered then watched her playing with the gumbo. “Would you just try it already?” he asked with a point to the bowl of chicken and sausage gumbo.

“Fine.” She answered and took a bite. “Holy shit.” She commented as she covered her mouth then swallowed. “That’s really good.”

Her father laughed. “Told you.” things got quiet and she was almost through with her gumbo when he asked, “So how’s everyone back home?”

“Well, let’s see, Sheila Bennett, Mayor douche wad and Carole Lockwood, Caroline’s father, Elena’s parents, her aunt Jenna, Jeremy and John Gilbert aka Elena’s bio dad, along with most of the other council members that got blown up in the pastors farm house are all dead. I’m sure I’m leaving some people out, but that’s all I can think of right now.” she told him. “Oh and Caroline and Elena are vampires too. Other than that there’s the impending threat of hell on earth being unleashed, but that’s another story for another time.”

“Wow.” He said, taking time to let it sink in. After a few minutes he blinked out of his thoughts. “So you said you’ve met all of the originals?”

“Yep, even momma and poppa original.” She answered.

“And you live to tell about it.” he observed.

“What can I say, the Mikaelson siblings like me.” she told him with a shrug.

“A little too much if you ask me.” he commented.

She rolled her eyes and looked up at him. “Please tell me you’re not still mad that Elijah and I found each other.”

“My family, your ancestors, devoted their lives to keeping the reincarnations from remembering Elijah.” He told her with a glare.

“I’m sorry, the reincarnations?” she asked with a frown and a shake of her head as she pushed her bowl away from her.

“You think you’re the first of Hannah’s reincarnation attempts?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t remember any lives other than Hannah and this one.” She answered, completely confused.

“That’s because the reincarnations were never allowed to live past their sixth birthday.” She just stared at him. “Legend has it that Jonah was so disgusted with what his mother had done that he killed his daughter to keep her from turning into his mother…to keep her from suffering at the hands of the Mikealson men.” he explained. “Every Finnegan female was either killed at birth or just before her sixth birthday. I couldn’t kill you so I did my best to protect you. I had Sheila block your memories and after I turned I didn’t come back because if I did it was more likely, with a vampire in your life, that you would become one and break the dam in your mind. I hoped that you would live and die as Katie, never becoming Hannah. I hoped it would break the cycle and free the women of our family.”

After a few minutes of letting it all sink in she sighed and looked up from her empty bowl to her father. “Then I guess I should thank you for not killing me and tell you that the cycle is broken.” he frowned in confusion. “I’m no longer linked to or with Elijah.”

“Really?” he asked with raised brows.

“Yep, the link broke when my soul shattered.” She answered.

“So you’re free of the Mikaelson’s?” he asked.

“Um…” she pulled one side of her mouth up and squinted an eye. “I guess you could say that?” she scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably.

“What does that mean?” he asked a little confused.

“Klaus and I are kind of…together.” She answered.

“Klaus is not an acceptable partner for anyone, much less my little Scarlett.” He told her.

She scoffed and before he could say anything, a guy who looked to be in his mid to late twenties with espresso skin and nice eyes, walked over to them and slapped his hand down on Bradley’s shoulder. “Who, may I ask, is this lovely lady?” he asked, giving Katie a bright, charming smile.

“My daughter, Scarlett.” Bradley answered. “Scarlett, this is Marcel.”

Katie gave Marcel a wave and a polite smile assuming that he was the same Marcel that turned her father. “I hate to pull you away from your family reunion, but we have business to attend to.” Marcel told Bradley.

“Alright.” Bradley told Marcel who walked off giving the father and daughter time to bid each other goodbye. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

“I’m flying back in the morning.” She answered. “Prom is coming up soon.”

“What time is your flight?” he asked.

“Seven thirty.” She answered.

“We’ll meet here for breakfast at six?” he asked and she nodded. “See you in the morning.” He told her and she gave him a smile and a wave and watched him leave with Marcel.

“Refill?” Sophie asked as she walked over with a pitcher of tea in her hand. Katie slid her empty glass to the edge of the table. “Would you like more gumbo?”

“No, but it was delicious.” She answered then gave Sophie a smile as she picked up her glass of tea. “Thank you.”

She was still sitting there, sipping on her tea, fiddling with her necklace, thinking about everything she and her father had discussed when Sophie walked by with a sizzling plate of fajitas and her stomach flipped. She frowned and ran to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth and barely made it into the stall before her gumbo came back up. “The hell was in that gumbo?” Katie sighed as she shut the toilet lid and flushed it.

“It wasn’t the gumbo.” She heard Sophie say from outside the stall. “You’re tea, however, had a very powerful mixture of herbs in it. A roofie…kind of.”

Katie pushed the stall door open and turned on the sink. “You’re a witch.”

“Yep.” Sophie answered.

“I’ve seen a witch roofie in action, the dude didn’t get sick.” Katie said as she cupped her hand under the stream of water and rinsed out her mouth.

“Yeah that’s not the roofie, that’s morning sickness.” Sophie told her watching her grow weaker and weaker.

“That would imply…that I’m pregnant. I’m a vampire, I…can’t…” she passed out.

Sophie watched her fall then knocked on the door letting Jane-Ann, her sister inside. “This is stupid, and risky, you know that right?”

“We will talk about this later, for now we have to get her out of here without being seen.” Jane-Ann told her.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie woke up in a cabin in the woods, crickets and frogs could be heard outside. “Where am I?” she groaned as she sat up in the cot she was laying on.

“The bayou.” Sophie told her.

“Why?” she asked with a glare.

“Because like it or not, you’re pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson’s child.” Sophie answered reminding Katie what she’d told her before she passed out.

“It’s not possible, I’m a vampire. We can’t have kids.” She sighed, feeling ill. “How would you know anyway. You’re a witch not a doctor.”

“I’m a witch with a gift of telling when a woman is pregnant. I sensed it as soon as you walked into the restaurant.” She told her.

Katie, sure that Sophie was wrong, got quiet and listened. At first she only heard Sophie’s heartbeat and her own, but eventually she heard a small, fast heartbeat and slid her hand over her lower abdomen. “Holy freaking hell…”

“Congratulations?” Sophie asked awkwardly.

“How the hell is this possible?” Katie asked, sounding like she was in shock.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Sophie shrugged.

“So what do you want with me? Why kidnap me and bring me out to the middle of nowhere?” Katie asked, trying to think about something other than what Klaus was going to have to say about this or the thousand other questions that were running through her head.

“Marcel has been keeping my people under his thumb, but now we have you.” Katie shook her head not understanding. “Your boyfriend is famous in this town. Witches tell bedtime stories about the vampire Klaus. Marcel was nothing but an orphaned street rat until he made him what he is. Now he’s out of control. He does what he wants. He kills who he wants. We’re gonna stop him and you’re gonna help us.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know you people.” Katie asked with a scoff. Jane-Ann walked in. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Jane-Ann.” She answered. “And to answer your question, you’re going to get Klaus here and you’re going to get him to help us.”

“What makes you think I have any control over Klaus?” Katie asked with a glare.

“Because he’s been texting you every hour on the hour for the past day and a half.” Sophie answered holding up Katie’s cell phone. “A guy doesn’t do that unless he’s worried and people only worry when they care.”

“Prom is today.” Katie sighed realizing how stupid that sounded since she just found out that she’s pregnant.

“Yeah, Caroline’s been texting incessantly about that.” Sophie told her. “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to miss it.”

“I gathered as much.” Katie scoffed.

“We need to get started, Soph.” Jane-Ann said.

TVDTVDTVD

After performing a million different witchy tests on her Sophie tossed Katie a clear blue pregnancy test. “Just for shits and giggles. The outhouse is that way.” She told her with a point outside.

“Watch your language Soph.” Jane-Ann scolded her little sister as Katie stood up and went outside.

After taking the pregnancy test she put the cap back on it and watched as the word pregnant showed up on the screen. She headed back inside and showed it to them, then tucked it into her pocket. “How the hell is this even possible?” Katie asked herself more than them.

“Did I hear you tell Bradley that your soul shattered?” Jane-Ann asked, having been at the bar while Katie and her father chatted.

“Yeah, why?” Katie asked as if it were no big deal.

“No one, witch, human, vampire or wolf has ever come back from that before.” Jane-Ann answered. “We have no records of what that can do to someone.”

“Even still, that doesn’t explain Klaus’s roll in this.” Katie pointed out.

“He’s a hybrid, magic made him a vampire, but he was born a werewolf and is the first of his kind. Nature is full of loopholes.” Jane-Ann explained.

“Awesome.” Katie sighed and fell back to lie on the cot hoping to go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

TVDTVDTVD

After making sure Tyler was out of town Klaus returned to his mansion to find a note, left for him by Katherine. “Klaus, I hear Elijah has refused you the cure and in return you have refused me my freedom. Shame on you both. But while you boys sort out your problems, I have one last thing to offer you. I’ve caught wind that there is a witch in New Orleans named Jane-Anne Deveraux holding your precious Katie hostage. Hunt her down. What she has to tell you about Katie will rattle you so deeply to your core that chasing little old me will be the least of your concerns. It’s been a fun five centuries, Klaus, but I’ve worn down too many good heels running from you. Love and hate, Katerina.”

Klaus dropped everything, packed a bag and bought a plane ticket to New Orleans.

TVDTVDTVD

Twenty four hours later Katie sat on a wooden bench in a tomb in the middle of a cemetery in New Orleans. “We can talk freely here.” Katie heard Sophie say. She also heard another set of feet walking with Sophie.

“Then I suggest you start talking.” Elijah’s voice made Katie perk up, just happy to hear a familiar voice. “What did your sister want with Niklaus?” Katie tried to leave the tomb, but a couple of witches stepped in her way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sophie asked. “We have a vampire problem, and we need help. Marcel has an army backing him. The witches have been trying to fight back, but we haven’t had much luck. Until my sister, Jane-Anne and I met a girl, a vampire girl passing through the quarter from a small town in Virginia, the daughter of one of Marcel’s day walkers. She has a special…connection to your brother.” Sophie explained to him. “By the look on your face I’m guessing you know who she is.”

“What do you want with Katie?” he asked, his tone guarded.

“Wait, are we talking about the same girl? Bradley called her Scarlett.” Sophie asked.

“Scarlett is her middle name.” Elijah answered growing impatient.

“She’s pregnant and the father of the child she’s carrying is your brother, Klaus.��� Sophie told him.

“That’s impossible.” Katie could hear the shock in his voice.

“Nothing’s impossible, especially not when it comes to a hybrid and the first being to ever recover from a shattered soul.” Sophie explained. “Let her out.” She called.

The men stepped aside and Katie whooshed out of the tomb, stopping in her tracks when her eyes landed on Elijah, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

He looked at Sophie, “Give us a moment please.” Sophie nodded and jerked her head for the witches to leave them be. Elijah put his hand on Katie’s lower back and led her into the tomb where she sat back down straddling the bench. He started pacing. “So it’s true?” he asked and she nodded. “Have they been holding you here against your will?”

“They witch roofied me, brought me out to the bayou and did all these witchy tests.” She told him then pulled the pregnancy test out of her pocket. “But even the plain old clear blue confirmed it.” She showed him the word pregnant on the test. “I thought it was just a really weird dream at first, but this is really happening…I’m really pregnant.” She tapped the test on the bench, attempting to hold back her tears, then tucked it back into the pocket of her jeans.

Elijah sat down and pulled a leg up on the bench to face her and cupped her cheek in his hand making her eyes slip shut for a second. “How are you dealing with this?”

“I’m shaking in my freaking boots.” She answered, tapping the toe of her shoe down into the tile floor of the tomb. “What if he doesn’t want it…or me?” she asked with a shaking voice. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You are not in this alone.” He assured her. “I do not believe he would turn his back on you.” He wiped her tears away. “Niklaus has never truly been happy, but I believe that you and this baby can achieve the impossible and save him from himself.”

Katie grabbed his wrist and moved his hand from her face. “No pressure or anything.”

“That wasn’t my intent.” He told her apologetically.

“No, I know.” She assured him. “I’m just…a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Katie I know I’ve broken my promises to you in the past, but I need you to trust me when I say that no harm will come to you or this baby if I can help it.” he brushed her loose hair behind her ear and rested his hand on the side of her neck.

She took his hand off her and held it in both of hers. “I’m trusting you, please don’t make me regret it again.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He told her seriously.

She took a deep breath and let go of his hand. “We have to convince the witches to let me tell Klaus about the baby. It’s my business to tell, not theirs.”

“Request heard and granted.” Sophie told her as she walked in.

“What precisely is it that you want and what does it have to do with Katie?” Elijah asked as he stood up and walked over to Sophie.

“We want to run Marcel and his vampires out of town. Klaus is the key. Everything Marcel knows about being a vampire he learned from Klaus. Marcel trusts him, looks up to him. He won’t see the betrayal coming.” Sophie answered.

“Yes. Well, I’m sure you’re aware, my brother Niklaus doesn’t like to be told what to do.” Elijah told her and Katie found that she still liked to listen to Elijah talk.

“Marcel drove the werewolves out of town decades ago. Do you really think he’s going to welcome a hybrid baby to the neighborhood?” Katie placed a hand protectively over her stomach at Sophie’s words. “Convince Klaus to help us and no one has to know about the newest member of the original family.”

“That sounds remarkably like blackmail.” Elijah told her.

“Like I said, I’m desperate.” Sophie told him with a hard voice and face.

“Well, then. We have our work cut out for us don’t we?” Elijah asked with a look back at Katie.

TVDTVDTVD

“What are we doing here?” Katie had been sitting on the bench in the tomb, bouncing her foot nervously since Elijah left to find Klaus. When she heard the younger brother’s voice she stood up.

“You want to know where Katie is and what the witches have in store for you?” Elijah asked rhetorically. “Follow me.”

A few seconds later Elijah and Klaus walked into the empty tomb to see Katie standing in front of the bench with her head held high, doing a good job of covering up how much she was freaking out inside. “Before you get mad, I haven’t been ignoring your texts and calls. The witches took my phone.”

“Are you alright?” he asked as he walked in and slid his hand over her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers. She savored the moment, knowing that after she told Klaus that she was pregnant it may very well be the last time he kissed her.

When the kiss broke she looked around Klaus to Elijah, “Leave us, please?” she could tell he didn’t want to, but he gave her a nod and walked out of the tomb. “I have been wrecking my brain trying to find the right words to tell you this, but I can’t. So I need you to do me a favor.” She told him and he blinked at her as she took his hands in hers and held them to her chest. “Close your eyes and listen.” He rolled his eyes at her as if she were being silly. “Just…do it please.”

He closed his eyes and listened to everything around him. She knew he’d heard the baby’s heartbeat when he took in a deep breath, his eyes shot open and he jerked his hands from hers as if he’d been burned.

“How is this possible?” He whispered looking into her eyes as a tear slipped down his cheek. He wanted the baby, she could see it in his eyes, but if he was willing to let himself have it, to have happiness, she couldn’t tell.

“I am the first known person to come back from a shattered soul and you are a hybrid, the first of your kind. Apparently nature loves loopholes.” She told him quietly to hide the fear in her voice. After a few minutes of silence passed it became too much for her to handle. “I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, please say something.”

“What do the witches want with you?” he asked, not putting her mind at ease.

“They want you to overthrow Marcel and get them out from under his control.” She answered.

“Why should I?” he asked with a hard face.

Before Katie could answer, Sophie and a few other witches walked into the tomb. Elijah walked over and stood next to Klaus and Katie moved to his other side, looking at the three witches blocking them into the tomb. “Because my sister gave her life to perform the spell that put the lives of this girl and her baby in our control. If you do not help us take down Marcel…so help me Katie won’t live long enough to see her first maternity dress.”

“Whoa, hey, you’re threatening me?” Katie asked shocked at what she’d just learned. “I’ve never been anything but cooperative with you people.”

“We appreciate that, but we aren’t so sure he’ll be as understanding.” Sophie told her with a hard face and a point at Klaus.

“Enough of this.” Elijah told Sophie, “If you want Marcel dead he’s dead. I’ll do it myself.”

“No. We can’t. Not yet.” Sophie argued. “We have a clear plan that we need to follow and there are rules.”

“Sophie can you guys just back the hell off and give us a minute please?” Katie asked and Sophie gave her a look that asked, seriously? “Just a few minutes then you can get back to your threats, blackmail and bullshit.”

“Fine, but just a few.” She nodded and motioned for the witches to leave and followed them out.

With them gone Katie sank down on the bench and placed her head in her hands with a heavy breath. “This is a trick.” Klaus growled being his usual paranoid self.

“No, brother, it’s a gift. It’s your chance. It’s our chance.” Elijah argued.

“You know I would never lie to you. Or is our trust really that one sided?” Katie asked as she stood from the bench and walked over to him.

“It’s not one sided.” He told her with watery eyes.

“Good, then do me a favor and put the witches out of your mind for a second. You haven’t said and I need to know. Do you want this baby?” When a tear betrayed her she quickly wiped it away.

He stared at her for a minute then said one word, “No.”

It felt as if someone snatched the air from her lungs and a pain shot through her chest. She wanted to break down, cry and let it all out, but she wouldn’t let him see how much he affected her. So she held her head high. “I call bullshit.” she told him in a quiet yet strong voice. “I know you want this baby, you want us. I saw it in your eyes.” she didn’t bother wiping her tears away this time. “You made hybrids because you wanted a new family. Well,” she held her hands out to the side, “you’ve got one standing right in front of you. All you have to do is say the word and we’re yours.”

“Listen to her, Niklaus.” Elijah spoke up making Katie look at him then back at Klaus.

“You once told me that Elijah was my first love and you intended to be my last. If you reject this baby again, that will never happen.” His lips drew together, pursed in defiance. “So, I’ll ask one more time. Do you want this baby?”

He leaned down and looked her in the eyes, “No.” he saw hurt flash in them then turn into a blazing fire that he hated seeing directed at him. He thought she was going to hit him, but she didn’t.

Instead she grabbed the silver pendant hanging around her neck in her fist and jerked. Elijah watched her grab Klaus’s hand, put the necklace in his palm and closed it. “Thank you.” he gave her a questioning look. “For reminding me that love…is for children and fools.” She shoved his hand and turned her back on him, leaving the tomb.

One of the witches thought she was trying to leave the cemetery and grabbed her arm. She grabbed his wrist, knocked him to his knees and twisted his arm behind his back, almost breaking it. “You lay a hand on me again and it will no longer be attached to your body.” She shoved him to the ground then looked at Sophie, “Proceeded with the blackmail and bullshit, I’ve gotten the only answer I cared about.” She walked over to the steps of another tomb and sat down on them, crossing her arms over her knees, rested her head on them.

Katie zoned out and lost track of how much time had passed before she felt someone touch her shoulder and she looked up to see that it was Sophie. “Come on.” She jerked her head back to the tomb. “Klaus and Elijah are gone for now, but I’m sure Elijah will be back.” Katie just nodded and stood up.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie sat on the wooden bench in the tomb listening to the witches talk about how Marcel and his vampires were out of control when one of them asked, "What makes you think you can control the hybrid?"

"She can't." Elijah spoke up and everyone looked to see him leaning against the doorway of the tomb. "I'm not entirely certain I can either." He pushed himself off the wall and walked into the tomb. "But now that your coven has drawn his ire, I have a question. What prevents my brother from murdering you instead of cooperating?"

Sophie walked over to the wall of the tomb and grabbed a straw doll off of a shelf. She took a needle out of it and poked her hand. Katie winced and looked at a spot of blood that pooled in her palm. "Are you freaking kidding me? She linked me to you!?" Katie asked angrily.

"Yep. Anything that happens to me, happens to you." Sophie told her then looked at Elijah. "Which means her life is in my hands. If she so much as sets a foot out of this town I will be able to tell." Katie gritted her teeth with flared nostrils. "Klaus may not care about his own child, but it's very clear what it already means to you. If I have to hurt Katie or worse to ensure that I have your attention, I will."

Elijah took a step closer to Sophie. "You would dare threaten an original?"

"I have nothing to lose." Sophie answered. "You have until midnight to get Klaus to change his mind."

Elijah turned and left the tomb.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was sitting outside the tomb, getting fresh air when she heard the midnight bell toll then let her head fall back. She was staring up at the sky, waiting for the witches to come kill her when she heard someone walking up and looked up to see Elijah carrying a body wrapped in light brown linen. Curious, she followed him inside the tomb. “Klaus does not care about the child.” She heard Agnes, one of the witch elders say.

“I do.” Elijah spoke up getting their attention. “And I bring proof of my intent to help you. The body of your fallen friend.” He kneeled down and placed the body on the floor. “Which I procured from Marcel himself.”

“Jane-Anne.” Sophie sighed and fell to the floor beside her dead sister.

“May she be granted peace.” Elijah told them. “Klaus will agree to your terms.” They all looked at him. “I just need a little more time.”

“You’ve had your time. It’s passed.” Agnes argued.

“Shut up, Agnes.” One of the other witches spoke up and moved to stand next to Sophie.

“For now, accept the deal.” Elijah told them. “Katie and the child remain unharmed, or Klaus will kill you all” He turned and started walking away, but stopped and turned back to look at the witches. “And I will help him.”

TVDTVDTVD

The next morning Katie was brought back to the cemetery. “When can I have my cell phone back?” she asked as she walked in and sat down on the bench. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

Sophie pulled Katie’s phone out of her back pocket and held it up. “You can’t tell anyone about your pregnancy.”

“Duh.” Katie commented and Sophie slapped the phone into Katie’s palm. “Thank you.”

She was going through her texts from Caroline, Klaus and Bonnie when Elijah and Sophie walked in. “Klaus has agreed to help us. You’re free to go, but don’t even think about leaving town. If you do, I’ll sense it and kill both of us.”

“Ten four, rubber ducky.” Katie sighed sarcastically as she pushed herself from the bench and walked over to Elijah. When they got out of the cemetery she asked, “So, how’d you get him to agree?”

Elijah opened the passenger door of his car for her. “Unlike you I didn’t give up on him.” he answered as she slid inside and he shut the door.

“I didn’t give up on him. I’m just done wasting my breath begging people to give a shit about me.” she replied not looking at him as he cranked the car and started driving.

“Do you really think he doesn’t care about you?” he asked and she just shrugged. “He cares, Katie.”

“Yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it.” she scoffed.

“He is scared.” Elijah defended.

“And I’m not?” she asked, raising her voice.

“You’ve been a parent before. You know how to love unconditionally. Klaus doesn’t because he’s never experienced it.” Elijah reminded her.

“Can we just…stop talking about this, please?” she asked, getting aggravated.

“Of course.” He drove her out of the city and to a plantation house. “Welcome to your new home.” He parked outside the huge two story white house with large columns, black shutters and a black door.

“Well, it’s a lot better than a tomb or a swamp.” She commented then got out of the car.

After he let her inside and gave her a tour, she picked a room with a window seat and pulled the dust covers off of the bed and the rest of the furniture.

She was sitting on the window seat, her back to the door and her head leaned on the wall, looking outside when she heard someone walk up behind her. A bouquet of six red roses appeared in front of her face and she recognized the hand holding them as Klaus’s. She took them, held her hand out to the side then dropped them to the floor. She heard him sigh then a pint of strawberry ice cream and a spoon appeared in front of her. She took it and he thought she was going to drop it too, but she stood from the bench and left the room. He followed her down stairs to the kitchen where she pulled open the icebox that was made to blend with the white cabinets and stuck it in the freezer. When she turned around he gave her a curious look. “I don’t believe in wasting perfectly good ice cream.”

She walked around the island and had to pass him on the way to the door, but he gently grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away from him. “Please accept my apology.”

“I have yet to hear one.” She pointed out as she took her arm from his grasp.

“I’m sorry.” He told her quietly. “I…”

“Acted like a pig headed dick.” She filled in for him since he couldn’t find the words.

“That’s putting it lightly.” He told her with a nod.

She took in a slow, deep breath then heaved it out, walked back over to the icebox, grabbed the ice cream and the spoon she’d tossed into the empty sink at one end of the island and set the container on the counter across from where Klaus stood on the other side. “I’m really going to miss alcohol…” she stabbed the spoon into the pink frozen treat and took a bite. “I’m sorry too.” She admitted then swallowed. “I shouldn’t have cornered you with an ultimatum like that.”

“How long have you known?” he asked instead of acknowledging her apology.

“I found out not long after I got here. I was hanging out at Rousseau’s after my dad left with Marcel when Sophie walked by with a plate of Fajitas. The smell made me sick and let me tell you, Sophie’s gumbo was freaking awesome, but after it came back up I don’t think I’ll ever be able to even smell it again.” He smirked at her confession, a little happy she had taken his advice and had gumbo. “That was right before I passed out from the witch roofie Sophie put in my tea.”

“Does your father know?” he asked.

“As far as he knows I skipped the breakfast we planned and left without saying goodbye.” She told him. “And I’d like to keep it that way. Bredley is one of Marcel’s day walkers. Marcel sired him and I don’t know where his loyalties lie.” She took one last bite of ice cream then put the top back on it, stuck it in the freezer and washed, dried and put away her spoon. “Speaking of Marcel, can I ask what history you have with him and this city? I know you guys had to leave in 1919, but that’s about it.”

“My family and I practically ran this town. Marcel was just an unnamed boy, a slave, when I found him, named him and took him under my wing.” He told her as he walked around the island to stand across from her where she leaned her hip against the counter. “I made Marcel everything that he is. I loved him like a son, and when my father chased me and my family from here a hundred years ago we believed Marcel was killed. We each mourned him in our own way. Yet when I returned, I found not only had he survived he had thrived. Instead of seeking us out, instead of sticking together as one, he made a choice to take everything my family had built and make it his own. Now he is living in our home. He is sleeping in our beds. There’s an M he stamps everywhere but it doesn’t stand for Marcel, it’s for Mikaelson. I want it all back. I want to be king.”

“And this baby and I…Do we have a place in this kingdom of yours?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Every king needs a queen by his side.” he replied as he slid his hand over the side of her neck. “And an heir to his throne.” He leaned into her and pressed his forehead to hers, looking her in the eyes. “Stand with me, be my queen?” he asked and she pulled her head back as he pulled her necklace out of his pocket, the clasp now fixed.

“Let me hear you say it…out right, no talk of kingdoms.” She told him, not giving in to him yet.

His mouth opened to say something but he closed it. She nodded and tried to turn her back on him to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around, catching her lips with his. It took a few seconds before she let herself kiss him back. When it broke he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you…both of you.” She gave him a small smile as she gathered up her loose auburn waves and lifted them as she turned her back on him. He put the necklace back around her neck. “And I never want to see this necklace leave your neck again.”

“Good, because I never want to take it off again.” She told him as she slid her fingertips over the smooth metal then put her hand on his cheek. “I’ll be your queen or your little phoenix or…whatever you want to call me.” she smiled to herself more than him. “You’ve really got to stop giving me nicknames.”

He chuckled, happy they were back on good terms. “The nicknames are endless because you…” he grabbed her hips and picked her up, setting her on the island next to the sink, “are my everything.” His words knocked the breath out of her in a good way this time. After taking in a deep, forced breath she caught his lips with hers and the kiss quickly turned heated and a moan left her lips as she pulled him closer with her legs. A sigh left his lips as she started kissing his neck.

She was kissing his lips and about to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head when she heard someone clear their throat. Klaus stopped kissing her and rolled his eyes as they both looked at Elijah, leaning against the door frame. “I see you two made up.” Katie unwrapped her legs from Klaus’s waist.

“We were working on it.” Klaus answered with a smirk that Elijah ignored and made Katie look at the floor with a blush.

“Is it done?” Elijah asked Klaus, making Katie look up at them, confused.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Klaus answered. “Your underhanded deal worked quite well. Marcel was only too happy to accept my blood, even as he accepted my heartfelt apologies. His man Thierry yet lives and I remain a welcome guest in the French quarter. My only concern now is this coven of impudent witches.”

“You do know I’m linked to Sophie right?” Katie asked Klaus who gave her an interested look. “If she dies I die and while I will come back, the baby might not.”

“I believe them to be honorable though.” Elijah spoke up. “They did release Katie to me, although they haven’t been entirely forthcoming. Marcel obviously has something that they need. They don’t want him dead. There must be a reason why.”

Out of nowhere a wave of nausea rolled over Katie sending her rushing to the bathroom. She was flushing the toilet when Elijah asked, “Are you okay?”

“Ugh.” She responded and rested her forehead on the toilet seat knowing it was clean since they’d just moved into the house. “Please look away.” She groaned.

Instead he walked inside, grabbed a washcloth, wet it and rang it out. “You forget this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you sick.” He pointed out as he handed her the cloth. She took it and his offered hand when he offered it.

He pulled her up. “I didn’t forget. I caught the flu back in Ireland and wouldn’t let you give me your blood.” she remembered then wiped her face and mouth and rinsed the cloth out and draped it over the faucet. “Why was that again?”

“You said it was a human experience that you needed to get through so that you wouldn’t get sick again.” He reminded her.

“And Jonah ever so politely told me I was being stupid.” She said as she put her hand on the counter and leaned on it.

“You were running a fever and not thinking straight.” he added. “Jonah convinced me to heal you while you were sleeping.”

“And I thanked you for it when I woke up.” She gave him a small smile. “At least this time you don’t have to pick stew chunks out of my insanely tight curls.”

“I didn’t have to do it then.” He pointed out with a small smile of his own, reminding her that he did it because he loved her, not because he had to. “And if I may…” he grabbed the rag and rinsed it out then wiped at a spot of puke on her cheek that she’d missed. When he was done he tossed the rag into the dirty clothes hamper behind her.

“So,” Katie started realizing that reminiscing wasn’t the best idea, “Where did you go after I woke up and you left Mystic Falls?” she asked, as she hopped up to sit on the bathroom counter, wanting to stick close to the toilet in case she got sick again.

“I’m surprised Niklaus hasn’t already told you.” he told her as he leaned back on the wall across from her in the small guest bathroom. She just looked at him and shrugged. He narrowed his eyes, thinking about not telling her. “Katherine contacted me and said she had the cure. She thought we could be of mutual use to one another.”

Katie bit her lips closed and narrowed her eyes back at him. “You were with her, with her weren’t you?”

“Katie I-” he started

“Stop, rewind and forget I asked. It’s none of my business.” She interrupted him. “I told you we needed to move on. So you moved on just like I did.”

“I tried to move on.” He corrected her. “It did not work.”

She wanted to ask why. A small part of her wanted to know if he couldn’t move on because he was still hung up on her, but another… much bigger part dedicated to Klaus, didn’t care. “Good.” She saw curiosity flash behind his pretty brown eyes. “You can do better than the colossal bitch that is Katherine Pierce. Now,” she hopped down off the bathroom counter and walked over to the bathroom door, “if you don’t mind I really need to shower.”

She was getting out of the shower when she heard the all too familiar sound of Elijah in pain. With a whoosh she wrapped the towel around herself and went to where she’d heard the sound only to find an empty room. She went back to her room and got dressed then started searching the house. After an hour she found a hidden room containing coffins, one of which reminded her of her bedroom in Klaus’s house in Mystic Falls. She noticed Elijah’s coffin missing and after searching the room thoroughly she found two silver daggers.

TVDTVDTVD

She was removing dust cloths from some of the furniture out of the need to do something when she heard the front door open and close. Klaus heard her and found here. “Where’s Elijah?” she asked flatly.

“Exactly where he needs to be.” Klaus answered and did that thing where he looked down his nose at her.

“Where he needs to be is here, with us, but he’s not.” She replied, her nostrils flaring a bit. “I searched this house over and do you know what I found?” she asked rhetorically as she closed the space between them and glared up at him. “Daggers and coffins…one of each missing and one coffin that looked suspiciously like it could me mine.” He sighed and blinked at her. “Start. Explaining.”

“The white coffin is yours.” he told her and she took in an angry breath, but kept her mouth shut. “I had it custom made when I thought you were dying and I haven’t been able to convince myself to get rid of it. I have no intention of ever seeing you in it.”

She had to admit, he was smart to lead with that. She found it touching that he’d had a coffin custom made for her to be buried in style…or on the even creepier side, kept with him in style. But she shook herself out of her thoughts and put the glare back on her face. “Get to the part where you tell me where Elijah’s at.”

“He was a weakness. Marcel was nervous. It was bad enough that one original returned to town, but two… His crew was getting antsy. He wanted Elijah gone. So I gave him a peace offering.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have a plan to keep you safe. Gain Marcel’s trust, dismantle his empire, and see to it that our baby is born into an environment free of wolf hating vampires and witches threatening to kill you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I am taking care of you the only way I know how.” She gently grabbed his wrists and took his hands from her face. “Katie…”

“We will continue this conversation after I calm down.” she told him with a tight voice and a hard look. He let her walk away.

She was sitting at the dining table and had finished off the ice cream that Klaus had bought her when he dared to show his face to her again. She didn’t say a word as she watched him pull out a chair and sit down across from her. “Calm yet?”

“As much as I’m gonna get.” She answered, then tossed the spoon into the empty container and pushed it to the side. “Elijah’s not a weakness or a bargaining chip. He’s an asset. With that being said, tell me the full truth. You didn’t dagger him just because of Marcel, did you?”

Klaus sighed and looked down at the table then back up at her. “Contrary to his escapades with Katerina he is still in love with you, Katie.” She gritted her teeth. “I heard the two of you, reminiscing over a time when it was him taking care of you.”

“New flash,” she started with an attitude, “We have seven years of memories together and from time to time those memories are going to resurface. Yes, I look back on them fondly as I’m sure he does too, and yes I still love him, but I am not in love with him and he is not the Mikealson brother I want. You are and you know it.” He nodded, letting her know he understood and the look in his eyes told her he was sorry. “The reason he is an asset is because the old saying, it takes a village to raise a child is incredibly true. Parents are the most important people in a child’s life, but they also need aunts and uncles, people that round out their world. If you keep daggering our village this child doesn’t stand a chance.”

“It will take time, but I will find a way to get him back.” he told her quietly.

“Good.” She stood up and walked around the table to lean her hips against it and look down at him. “And if I’m not mistaken, don’t kings usually keep their queens informed on battle plans?” she asked, with an arched brow.

A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he clasped his hands in front of him with his elbows resting on the arms of the dining chair. “I will also do a better job of keeping you in the loop.”

“Thank you.” she told him with a nod and he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her over to stand in front of him and rested his head on her stomach. They both got quiet for a moment, listening to the fast beat of the baby’s heart. “Is there anything you wish to ask of me?” she asked knowing that he was used to doing what he wanted when he wanted and now he was having to accommodate her.

He picked his head up and looked up at her. “As much as I want to show you New Orleans I need you to stay here.” he told her. “If your father sees you out and about in the quarter he’ll start asking questions. As you’ve already pointed out he is part of Marcel’s inner circle. You need to remain a secret.”

“And if my father runs into you in the quarter?” she asked. “He knows we’re together. He’ll want to know where I am.”

“You went on a pre-graduation road trip. Last I heard you were in Chicago.” He told her.

“That actually sounds like something I would do and answers why I’m not in Mystic falls in case he went looking for me. It’s a given that my friends back in Mystic Falls can’t know the truth either huh?” she asked and he nodded, knowing she would hate lying to her friends. “Then they get the same story.” she agreed. “But if I’m going to be locked away in here I’m going to need a few things.”

“Like what?” he asked curiously.

“Internet, a laptop and a three in one printer.” She answered. “Even if I can’t make it to graduation I fully intend on getting my diploma and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Your wish is my command.” He told her with a closed lipped smile.

“As yours is mine.” She told him then placed her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned down, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you.” She pecked him on the lips and he smiled.

[kanri-tea]

Demon Slayer! AU (Part 2 - Meeting Old Friends)

Ramuda, Ichiro, and Samatoki finally reunite. Jakurai sleeps away for now.

~~~

For Ichiro, waking up in the past was disorienting. He looked maybe eleven or twelve for some reason, and more importantly, he was a l o n e.

Where were his siblings?

Where were the others?

He’s an orphan again, but this time, there’s no Jiro or Saburo. There’s no Kuko or Samatoki. As he lives his life again, Ichiro finds that he’s alone. (Of course it’s adults that let him down, Ichiro thinks bitterly.)

In the end, it came down to pure luck, Ichiro thinks, that he ended meeting Kuwajima Jigoro.

In the end, it was thanks to the elderly man that Ichiro hadn’t lost his mind, hadn’t given up hope.

So Ichiro trains. He trains and he trains and he trains. It’s difficult and Kuwagima is a harsh taskmaster, but Ichiro tries and tries for the man he’d come to call “jii-chan.”

It’s frustrating too, for all that he tries and he tries, he can’t learn Thunder Breathing. Not completely. The first form, Thunderclap and Flash, is the only one he ever manages.

Ichiro hates himself for being so weak, but he’s not a failure no matter what Kaigaku says, so he works even harder. Like jii-chan says, if he couldn’t manage the other forms, then he sure as hell was going to master the one he did know.

Time comes and goes; the peach trees continue to whither and blossom as each year passes. By the time Ichiro heads off to the final selection – carrying the well-wishes of Kuwajima with him – the longing and pain has mostly faded to the background. Sure, he still missed Jiro and Saburo and spent countless nights worrying over what happened to them, but in the end, there was nothing he could do. What he could do instead was pass this exam and become a demon slayer to protect humanity.

There’s only four people who end up passing the exam. As Ichiro looks around, he sees a girl with a butterfly hairpin and an empty smile, he sees a boy whose faced is scarred and anger in his eyes.

He sees Ramuda.

But. There’s no way. How many years had it been since he’d woken up in this strange world all alone? Four years? Five? Even as the almost identical children speak to them, even as a sparrow lands on him instead of a crow, even as the angry boy tries to strangle the white-haired child, Ichiro is frozen.

When the Ramuda look-alike steps up and protects the child, Ichiro wonders briefly if his Ramuda would’ve ever done that. Would the childish man ever put himself in the middle of violent situation he couldn’t talk himself out of?

Ichiro doesn’t know anymore. Hell, he’s not even sure if he even remembers Ramuda’s face accurately anymore.

In the end, the four newly named Demon Slayers go their separate ways without ever speaking to each other. In the end, Ichiro doesn’t manage to scrounge up the courage to ask the pick-haired boy who he was, and Ichiro couldn’t help but hate himself even more.

Ghosts, Ramuda thinks, are still scary as fuck, but he supposed Sabito and Makomo could be the exceptions. But if he ever saw another ghost in his life again, he was going to go ballistic. Ugh, ghosts, he thinks as a shiver goes down his spine.

But… for Sabito and Makomo, for the other children who were killed… You can be at ease now. Even though you’re all spirits now, you can return now. Return back to your beloved Urokodaki-sensei’s side, back to your home at the base of the Mist Mountain.

Ramuda wondered where his spirit would go after his death. Maybe his spirit would go back to the modern age, where Dice and Gentaro was along with Jakurai.

Selecting an alloy for his nichirin blade should’ve been an easy, well-deserved task, especially after fighting so many ugly demons in the forest, but noooo, this one asshole just had to try and bully a little kid! Geez, what a barbarian – even worse than Samatoki.

Carefully making his way back to the Mist Mountain, Ramuda spent most of it distracted by his thoughts, thoughts of spirits and of the living and the dead, and of the demons and human. Speaking of demons…

“Welcome back,” Jakurai evenly breaths, arms wrapping around Ramuda like a warm blanket. How many years had it been since they’d been transported to this cruel, yet kind world? Six years? Seven? He didn’t know, but maybe it was for the better. Had they been in the modern era, in a time of hypnosis microphones and humans that could be even worse than demons, Ramuda would’ve never accepted this, not after the TDD split up.

Another pair of hands wraps around them, bigger and broader than either Jakurai or Ramuda’s current body. It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s Urokodaki-sensei, but the flowing tears, Ramuda mind slowly processes, is new.

“You finally came back alive,” the tengu-masked man sobs, and Ramuda understands. He understands. Pushing back memories of the many Ramuda clones that never came back, he lets himself slip. Emotions weren’t punished here, they weren’t disregarded. For the first time in a long, long time, Ramuda lets himself cry, sinking into Urokodaki-sensei’s embrace, soaking in Jakurai’s warmth.

For the first time in a long, long time, Ramuda felt free.

Fifteen days later, a hyottoko-masked man – Haganezuka – shows up with Ramuda’s nichirin blade. And man, what a weirdo, Ramuda thinks. Even as he’s being shaken by the weirdo – Jakurai peeking out from under the futon, disapproval written all over his tiny face – Ramuda contemplates his black blade. Damn, he thinks, he was really hoping it’d turn pink or yellow or something cute. Black kinda felt… ominous.

“Caww!!! Amemura Ramuda,” the Kasugai crow flies in, loudly cawing, “Hurry and go to the northeast town, caww!!”

“What the fuck,” Ramuda asks no one in particular from beneath Haganezuka, “Is that crow talking?”

The crow pears down at him, vicious eyes boring into Ramuda’s confused ones, conveying how unimpressed it was, which, how the fuck was a talking crow even conveying facial expressions?? Ramuda had so, somany questions.

“Hurry up and go hunt demons,” the crow yells at him, “This is your first assignment! Remember this well, in the northeast town, young girls are constantly disappearing every night! Every night! There are girls! There are girls constantly disappearing!!”

When Samatoki wakes up, it's in the middle of a forest. He doesn’t know how old he is – early teens maybe even younger. But more importantly…

What.

The.

Hell??!!

The last thing he could remember was fighting an illegal microphone user alongside fucking Ichiro, Ramuda, and sensei. So what the fuck was he doing in a forest? With a boar’s head mask on his head to, Samatoki thinks repulsively, and it looked pretty fucking real.

Maybe this was a joke, he thinks to himself, getting more and more hysterical as each day passed without any signs of people. Maybe Jyuto dumped his ass in the middle of a forest to see if he’d learn anything from Rio’s “survival cooking” lessons. Fuck if it wasn’t the stupidest idea ever, but Samatoki was getting desperate.

But, as years pass, he gives up hope. What’s the point? All around him was nothing but wilderness. Maybe it was desperation, though, that made Samatoki do his very best to survive, pulling out all his deepest knowledge of whatever survival shit Rio had passed on to him.

It’s not until he meets a so-called ‘demon slayer’ and beats them up and steals receives the guy’s admittedly kinda cool sword as a reward, that Samatoki finally feels like he’s going in the right direction. If it meant getting out of this damn forest and maybe doing something with this life, even if it was something stupidly noble like Jakurai, then Samatoki didn’t find that he minded.

So he fights and he learns. Samatoki learns about demons, learns their weaknesses and strengths, learns about the Wisteria houses. He accepts that there is no one else. That he’s alone.

It’s not until Tsuzumi Mansion, though, that everything Samatoki had come to learn and accept about this world turns on its head.

“There’s a demon around here,” Ichiro hears Samatoki growl. The man is as violent as ever, and while Ichiro could never stand with someone like him ever again, this world was different. This was a world of demons and monsters, where fighting wasn’t only for survival, but to protect humanity.

Maybe it’s because Ichiro hasn’t seen Samatoki since they’d been thrown into this world, but Ichiro follows Samatoki as the man rampages through the mansion and out the front door. It’s not until he sees the white-haired man heading straight towards the wooden box that Ramuda had been carrying that Ichiro acts.

(“So, what’s with the box?”

“Hmm~ This box… I’ll tell you later! But this box isn’t just any box! It’s my most very precious possession, so don’t try anything funny with it, m’kay?”)

“Stop –! I won’t let you lay your hands on this box. This is Ramuda’s most precious possession!”

Samatoki comes to halt in front of Ichiro crouching over the box, protecting it with his body. It’s times like these that Ichiro is reminded how terrifying Samatoki could be, and the gleam of violence in the man’s – boy’s? – eye promises even more violence.

“The hell, Ichiro? There’s a demon in there,” Samatoki yells at him, “And why the fuck is Ramuda carrying around a demon?!”

“I… I knew that from the very beginning!”

When Ichiro had woken up in this world, one of the first things he’d noticed was how good his hearing was. It wasn’t just being able to hear things from a long distance or even just really quiet sounds. He could hear heartbeats, could practically hear the thoughts of others. It was a hearing of an unnatural degree.

The sound of a demon and the sound of a human were fundamentally different to each other, but… it was Ramuda. It was Ramuda who laughed and played cheerfully during their TDD days; it was Ramuda who popped by every once in a while to check on Ichiro and his brothers after the split.

It was Ramuda whose sounds was so fierce, yet kind.

(The demon’s sound was kind too. It was so, so kind and soft that it made Ichiro want to cry. Maybe this was what pushed Ichiro to the edge, the thing that made Ichiro trust Ramuda on this matter. Sure, Ramuda was someone precious to him, but even Ichiro knew Ramuda was hiding secrets – dangerous secrets.)

“I’m going to ask Ramuda face-to-face,” Ichiro informs Samatoki, eyes unwavering. Ichiro had conceded to Samatoki many times in the past, but today, he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to give in.

“Tch,” Samatoki lowers his sword, “If the demon attacks us, it’ll be all yours and the stupid gremlin’s fault. Actually, where the fuck is he?”

“Samatoki, you stupid barbarian,” Ichiro hears Ramuda squawk and moments later, he comes in to view with Shoichi, Teruko, and another boy who Ichiro assumed was the older brother.

It’s not until Ramuda headbutts Samatoki in the middle of their squabbling and Samatoki falls unconscious, most likely concussed that the surrealism of the situation really catches up to Ichiro.

What the hell is my life now?

“So, if the three of us are all in this world since we all got caught up in the illegal microphone, where’s sensei?”

After burying the bodies, because Jakurai would’ve been hella disappointed in them if they hadn’t, Ramuda was finally back on the road with Jakurai on his back. But man, Jakurai was heavy. The box was supposed to be made out of some extremely light wood according to Haganezuka, but that was a fat lie. Maybe Jakurai was just fat, Ramuda snickers quietly in his mind.

Focusing back to the present, Ramuda’s mind stuttered to a halt at the question. Fuck. How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

So everyone we knew got killed by the demon king and then turned Jakurai in to a demon and know here we are, with me being a demon slayer and looking for a way to turn Jakurai back and Jakurai now sleeps in a box most of the time and is also toddler-sized! Buy hey! We’re alive at least!

Yeah, that wasn’t going to go over too well.

"Uhhh... Yeeeah... About that... The old man is kinda, uh." Ramuda sweats his way through the conversation, "I'll tell you guys when we get have time to rest, 'kay?"

Thankfully, both Ichiro and Samatoki let the issue rest, but Ramuda could tell that neither were too satisfied with Ramuda putting off the conversation. It doesn’t take too much longer though, before they reach a mansion with a wisteria printed on the door.

“Caww – Rest! Rest!” Ramuda’s crow calls, “The injured will rest until fully healed!”

“Eh,” Ramuda questions, “We get to rest now, even though I had to fight while injured,” he asks, mildly ticked off.

“Coming…”

“A monster?!” He hears Ichiro whisper to himself. Ichiro seriously watched too much anime, Ramuda thinks to himself as he rolled his eyes.

“You are the demon slayers, right?” The old lady who answered the door asks. She bows, “Please, come in.”

Ramuda steps into the wisteria house. This world was so, sostrange, but, even as Samatoki snarls suspiciously at everything and Ichiro freaks out over the littlest of things, it’s a bit better with friends.

By the way Jakurai knocks the back of the box, Ramuda was pretty sure the old man agreed too.

"So, about the old man. We kinda ended up together," Ramuda starts explaining, "Like he ran a clinic and everything and I lived there for a while."

"Eh, did he stay behind?" Ichiro questioned, confused to where this conversation was going. Samatoki is nodding next to him, confused.

"About two years back, we... the clinic got attacked by a demon. Muzan," Ramuda breaths, "And the old man..."

Ichiro and Samatoki's eyes widen. Was Jakurai dead?

"... Jakurai got turned into a demon," Ramuda finally admits. He turns towards the box and raps his knuckles on it.

"Yo, old man. Are you coming out or not? You've been asleep in there for ages!"

The door of the box swings open, a tiny hand revealing itself before its owner crawls out, purple hair splayed everywhere.

"What," Samatoki breathlessly stares, "the fuck."

A toddler-sized Jinguji Jakurai stares back, muzzled mouth quirking down and an unimpressed look plastered on his child-like face.

[anghraine]

“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter twenty-one

This is the final chapter of The Jedi and the Sith Lord, though it’s less “fin” than “to be continued next episode.”

Last chapter:

“Well, you’ll have to send an agent.”

“Yes, I will,” he said slowly. “In a matter of this much importance, it would have to be an agent of extraordinary capabilities and dedication. One who could communicate their observations and actions without any possibility of detection, and respond to my thoughts and plans in an instant.”

She drew a sharp breath.

This chapter:

“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.

Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone.

chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen, chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteen, chapter twenty

-

Anakin didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Lucy couldn’t help but remember how she’d fought to fly in the Rebellion. The Empire wasn’t much better, as far as she’d seen.

“Why me?” she asked. “All those things you just said—”

“There is no one better suited to the task,” said her father. His tone allowed no argument.

Had he chosen her because she was his daughter? That had plainly weighed into a great many decisions he’d made over the last few months, or longer. There was a—a tie between them, even concern. But she couldn’t think him sentimental enough to risk his plans on that alone. At the same time, she’d never really done anything of this kind. She was a pilot and a soldier, not a secret agent like Leia and Captain Andor had been.

“I don’t know,” said Lucy, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when she realized that she’d be out of the castle at last. Free! Or something like it, at least.

“The experience will be useful to you,” he said. “For now, what we need is information. The mission should be straightforward enough.”

“Don’t jinx it,” she replied. “How do you know I won’t just run off?”

“The fact that you asked is a strong hint,” said Anakin. “But if you accept, you will have a companion.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “An Imperial? You’re sending me with a keeper?”

“A companion,” he repeated firmly. “And an Imperial of sorts. I would hardly send you with a Rebel.”

She had half a mind to tell him that the galaxy wasn’t divided into Imperials and Rebels, or at least to think it at him. But he should know that already, coming from Tatooine. Apparently he’d forgotten.

Well, he’d forgotten a lot.

“Am I���would I meet them on the way there?” she said, trying to get the logistics clear in her head. “Or are they coming here?”

“They are already here,” said Anakin. “I will take you to them, if you consent to the mission.”

Between the promise of open air and her agreement to help him against his enemies in the Empire, her first inclination was immediate assent. And it’d be something to do, some way to exercise her abilities and to do it, amazingly enough, against Imperials. But she’d also be doing it for Imperials. Leia, in her place, would indignantly refuse. Han might go along out of self-preservation, but he’d be alert for his first chance at real escape. Lucy—

She looked up at Anakin, and remembered how Beru had told her that Shmi’s people believed in the young supporting their elders. Not in everything, but where it was necessary. Did this count?

She remembered, too, the terrible dread she’d felt as she flew away from the Rebellion, and the moment when she took her father’s hand in the archives, and the cool air of a starship.

“I’ll do it,” said Lucy, hoping she hadn’t just made the worst decision in the history of the galaxy.

At no point did she sense much doubt from Anakin, but she nevertheless felt a quiet relief from him at this.

“Good,” he said, and turned around, his cape swirling after him.  With a forward gesture, he continued, “Come with me.”

Lucy followed.

After another long trek across the castle—though in a different direction from the archive—she found herself in a large room. She’d never seen it before, but apart from the bedchambers and training hall, one room here was very much like another.

However, it wasn’t entirely dissimilar from the training hall; it stretched longer than it was wide, and at the far end, targets had been set up. Each had holes and gashes clustered in and around the center.

Lucy had no difficulty guessing where they’d come from, because the room also contained a tall woman in an Imperial uniform. She was currently shooting a blaster at the targets, one shot following the other with no hesitation and alarming accuracy. She must be almost as good as Leia.

Lucy coughed loudly and the woman whirled around, blaster raised. As soon as she saw Anakin, however, she lowered the blaster.

Lucy frowned at her. From the front, the woman looked eminently forgettable—brown hair, grey eyes, pale skin, unremarkable features. Yet Lucy couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d seen her before—a feeling that came less from any conscious process than the Force itself. Lucy knew her.

“Have we met?” Lucy asked.

The woman’s glance passed to Lucy, then back to Anakin. She seemed to be waiting for something.

“The situation has changed,” he said. “You are now to offer Lucy any assistance you are capable of. Also, you are to remain near her at all times during her mission.”

“Her mission?” said the woman.

Lucy’s heart nearly stopped.

“Tuvié?”

-

The woman—droid?—turned to her. Though her expression didn’t change, her voice did.

“I did not expect that you could correctly identify me, Miss Lucy!”

Lucy managed to slow her whirling thoughts long enough to say, “You’re pretty unmistakable.”

Tuvié was still functional—and still here? But she was … what had happened? She’d had humanoid prosthetics here and there before, but now, Lucy would never have known her for anything but an ordinary human woman. She didn’t understand.

Tuvié lifted her eyes to Anakin. Lucy tried to wrap her mind around that—Tuvié had eyes now.

“Oh! I quite forgot, sir—”

“You may consider the ban lifted, F-2VA,” he said, removing all doubt.

Lucy took a deep breath.

“Tuvié, this won’t mean anything to you, but—”

“Yes?” said Tuvié.

Lucy took a step forward, then abandoned all caution and walked straight up to her, wrapping her arms around the droid’s torso. It felt like hugging anyone would have.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said.

Tuvié patted her head.

“I am familiar with the significance of the gesture among humanoids,” she said kindly.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, releasing her and stepping back. “I didn’t mean—I—”

Tuvié’s face didn’t change, and probably couldn’t, but she managed to exude bewilderment anyway.

“Sorry?” she said. “Sorry for what?”

Lucy had no idea if Tuvié had welcomed the changes to her structure, or if it was some bizarre kind of punishment. Either way, she couldn’t believe that Tuvié hadn’t endured Anakin’s wrath in some way or another. And it was all because Lucy had lied and tricked her in a futile escape attempt. That horrified, desperate Lucy seemed almost another person now, but it didn’t negate her responsibility. Did Tuvié really not see that?

She thought of saying I didn’t want you hurt, but without knowing exactly what had happened, and with Anakin right behind her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

“I deceived you,” said Lucy. “It wasn’t—honourable.”

Before Tuvié could respond, Anakin strode forwards, his towering form cutting into Lucy’s peripheral vision. Each step thudded in her ears, and his respirator seemed even louder than usual.

“At least some portion of the fleet is gathered on the planet of Pheraz, near the Outer Rim,” he said. “I have obtained codes that should give you access to the base of operations.”

Lucy hesitated, then turned to him. “How?”

“I have my own methods of acquiring information,” he said, the mask and suit revealing no more than Tuvié’s face.

She took that to mean the Force.

“You will be given disguises that should allow you both to pass unnoticed among Varti’s and Jerjerrod’s men,” Anakin went on. “Tuvié, your assignment is simple. You are to remain with Lucy at all times and see that she returns in one piece.”

She might have been imagining it, but she thought his voice emphasized returns more than one piece. It made sense, of course—he had no reason to think she wouldn’t seize her first opportunity at escape, and keeping her under control had to be his first priority—but it made her uncomfortable, nevertheless. She hadn’t agreed out of hope for returning to the Alliance. It was difficult to imagine just waltzing back to the Rebellion as if none of this had ever happened, even if the chance did present itself.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” said Tuvié.

“You know the consequences if you fail me again,” he added.

“I do, sir.”

Lucy’s throat dried. She couldn’t think Tuvié would survive another failure. It was remarkable enough that he hadn’t destroyed her outright, all things considered, and that he’d entrusted her with the same task in more dangerous conditions. That was very odd, now that she thought of it.

It’s a test, Lucy thought. For both of them. Whatever the consequences of failure might be for Lucy herself, they would be disastrous for Tuvié. They had to succeed.

“Lucy,” Anakin said, “you will otherwise take the lead, guided by me. Keep your mind open and your senses alert.”

“I will,” she promised.

“You will both be provided with Imperial identities,” he said. “However, close inspection would trace them back to me and reveal your true allegiances.”

Lucy felt a flicker of doubt from him at this, and bit her lip. He couldn’t really know what her allegiance was at this point. She wasn’t sure she did herself, except to the Force and the liberation of the galaxy. She’d never support the Empire, but her father was neither the Empire nor the Emperor, whatever he might wish. She could help him in this without betraying what she believed in. Couldn’t she?

“Therefore,” he told her, “you should do your best to avoid providing them. You should be unobtrusive, or as much so as you can manage. You will have a uniform, a blaster, your wits, and the Force. That should be enough to carry us through.”

Despite herself, she liked the sound of us. Repressing the feeling, Lucy nodded.

“Do you both understand?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Tuvié immediately.

“Yes, F—Lord Vader,” Lucy said.

“Very well,” said Anakin. “Tuvié, you may go.”

Without another word, she walked away, her footsteps light—altogether unlike her old clatter. Lucy didn’t mind it, exactly, but it unsettled her. She’d heard of replica droids, glanced past holos of them, but she’d never seen one, and certainly never seen one made out of another model altogether. She inhaled, steadying herself, and looked up at her father’s inscrutable mask. She couldn’t sense his feelings beyond the usual, either; he must have closed himself off in some way, or simply didn’t feel much else.

Lucy searched the mask anyway, wishing she could at least see his eyes through the lenses. Her aunt always said that Lucy had her father’s eyes, though Shmi’s had been dark. But she’d never seen them in person.

“Father,” she said impulsively, “you can trust me.”

He studied her for several long seconds. Now, she thought she could sense something—not wistfulness, but not wholly unlike it. He wanted to believe her, even if he couldn’t quite manage it.

“We shall see,” said Anakin.

-

Leia Organa never thought of leaving the Rebellion. Not once. But the Alliance’s structure chafed on her at times, all the more in the years since the destruction of Alderaan, which had swayed many of those who wavered before fully realizing the threat posed by the Empire. If it could happen to Alderaan, it could happen to anyone. So many had only needed the understanding that their own people’s lives and welfare were at stake to support the Alliance in some fashion or another.

Cowards. At times, it was all Leia could do to keep her fingernails from cutting into her palms. She clenched her hands under Council tables and behind her back as she stared through viewscreens.

Useful cowards. Cowards who had chosen the right side, in the end. But they brought expectations of a certain kind of order with them, expectations rooted in a Republic that Leia couldn’t remember. She’d been born the very day that the Republic fell—she and Lucy both.

Her nails dug deeper. They hadn’t heard anything of Lucy since the day Leia escaped Cloud City with Lando and the droids. Even their best agents hadn’t heard a whisper of her; she might as well have died. Some people thought she had. But Leia couldn’t quite believe that Lucy’s death would leave the galaxy so untouched, leave Leia herself without any sure way of knowing it had happened. She trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that Lucy was alive.

Leia had every reason to know that alive didn’t mean well, though. If she’d somehow escaped Vader’s trap, Lucy would have returned to them. She could only be a captive of the Empire—of Vader.

Leia knew exactly what that meant. Was Lucy suffering at his hands and dark powers even now? Her instincts didn’t tell her anything about that. She didn’t feel overwhelmed with foreboding, as she had when Han and Lucy flew away from Yavin 4. She was just afraid for Lucy, afraid for them all, and beyond that, unsettled. Once they discovered Lucy’s location, once they rescued her—Leia refused to tolerate if—Lucy would find the Rebellion a different place than even on Hoth. She’d find the galaxy a different place.

Would Lucy be different? Leia supposed it depended on when Vader had taken her out of carbon-freeze, and how long after that she’d been subject to his ... mercies. Lucy wouldn’t give up the Rebellion; Leia believed that with all her heart. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t change her. Lucy escaping unscarred seemed increasingly impossible with each day that passed.

And Leia, tangled up in command, could do nothing.

She might have done something for Han, or at least tried. But everything was so slow. Lando had made his contacts with Jabba the Hutt’s minions, and would hopefully infiltrate the stronghold soon. When he did, they could determine Han’s current state. If he remained in carbonite, as all their reports suggested, he could be saved. They had only to penetrate the heart of the stronghold, discreetly extract Han from carbonite despite the danger of hibernation sickness, and somehow escape unnoticed.

Leia didn’t like leaving it all up to Lando. She thought of Lucy again, and nearly had to press her first to her mouth. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand around in her pristine clothes and neat braids, giving orders while those she loved most in the galaxy were prisoners of the Huttish and Galactic empires. But she couldn’t leave the Rebellion, either.

She’d have to find another way.

-

Janos Varti cooled his heels on Naboo for a good month before Emperor Palpatine deigned to take an interest in his doings. But, finally, the time had come. Varti knelt before a large hologram of the Emperor, keeping his eyes lowered and trying not to think of any dust that might accumulate on the knees of his trousers. Lord Vader might be an inhuman relic, but he was right that Palpatine’s favour could be withdrawn at any moment; that had to take priority over every other concern.

Besides, it let him avoid looking at the Emperor’s face, at least for a few moments.

“Admiral,” said the Emperor, “allow me to offer my congratulations. You seem to be in good health.”

“I am, your Highness,” Varti said humbly. “Thank you.”

This sufficed for pleasantries. Palpatine told him to rise, then closely questioned him on his meetings with Vader. He asked about Bast Castle’s defenses, which he must already know about; he asked about Varti’s conversations with Vader in such detail that Varti could almost have accepted the common belief that the Emperor had spying devices everywhere. Nevertheless, Varti reported as closely as he could recall, suspecting that the month-long wait was at least partly a test of his memory. In fact, he’d always had an excellent one, though he knew better than to depend too heavily upon it.

“Lord Vader warned you that you might not always enjoy my good graces, hm?” Palpatine asked.

His flickering face seemed more amused than anything by this.

“Yes, your Highness,” Varti said.

“That,” said the Emperor, “depends on you.”

Varti nodded respectfully, then added, “So Lord Vader advised me.”

Palpatine studied him, his features now as unreadable as usual. Varti, who had long-since grasped that the Emperor expected submission but despised weakness, managed not to gulp.

“I see,” he said. “Tell me, was there anyone in the castle with Lord Vader?”

“Well, yes,” said Varti, startled. “A number of officers and troops, as well as droids—more droids than soldiers.” Then he remembered his initial reception, with all its peculiarities. “And there was a girl.”

He felt, more than saw, Emperor Palpatine’s concentration narrowing in on him.

“Tell me about this girl,” he ordered.

Varti blinked several times, but had not come this far by ignoring direct orders. “She received us when we first arrived. She seemed about twenty—short, slender, blonde hair, blue eyes. I had the impression that she was some sort of housekeeper or servant. We spoke briefly and she provided tea.”

Maybe it was just paranoia on Palpatine’s part, but Varti couldn’t see why he should feel the slightest interest in that girl. It was possible, of course, that Varti had missed something about her, but it didn’t seem likely. He was an excellent judge of character.

“Did she create any difficulties for you and Lord Vader?” asked the Emperor.

“No,” said Varti, even more puzzled. “She seemed quite accommodating, when she was present. I saw little of her, except during dinners.”

Now that he thought of it, though, that did strike him as odd. Why would Vader invite his housekeeper, or whatever she was—Varti didn’t really want to think about it too much—to dinner with an Admiral of the Fleet? Had he wanted her to notice something?

Something niggled at Varti’s memory. He’d noticed something. What was it?

“I trust no significant business was conducted at these dinners?” said Palpatine.

“You are correct, your Highness.”

In a rush, it came to him. He felt silly to even mention it to the Emperor, but he wasn’t about to hold things back.

“Her clothes were strange,” he blurted out. “Old and faded, but the fabric was very fine—embroidered and such. It seemed peculiar for a servant.”

Palpatine didn’t bother responding to this.

“Did you ever hear her name?”

“Alsara,” Varti said promptly. “Lucy Alsara.”

“Ah,” said Palpatine, with a faint smile. “Her true name is Lucy Skywalker. She was a Rebel and a would-be Jedi traitor, until Lord Vader apprehended her.”

“A Jedi!” Varti exclaimed.

Astonished, he stared into the Emperor’s blue face. Varti had taken tea from a Jedi? A Rebel one, too? And she hadn’t tried to poison him then, or at any of their other shared meals? And Vader had simply left her to wander around?

“She appears to have learned the errors of her former cause, and is now Vader’s apprentice,” said the Emperor.

“She seemed docile enough,” Varti acknowledged, the whirl of his thoughts slowing to something like reason. “Was it a trick?”

“Possibly,” Palpatine said, looking thoughtful. Then he fixed his eyes on Varti, who valiantly repressed a shudder. “Should the opportunity arise again, take care to observe her very closely.”

“I will,” said Varti. At this point he was so bewildered that he presumed to add, “Is this one girl a threat to the Empire, your Highness?”

“No,” the Emperor replied. Horrifyingly, his smile broadened. “I think not.”

[hasegawasosise]

In Numbers We Trust

Summary:

Prompt master: @outoftheframework

I like the concept of each of the kids having a number or having a thing where they count off. Not in a demeaning or dehumanizing way at all, just more so to use in dangerous situations. For example, a bomb goes off on patrol, and to quickly see if everyone is okay, the kids (including Steph and Babs) automatically start counting one at a time. Bruce can breathe again once the count reaches eight. This tradition begins to carry over to civilian life when the kids yell numbers across a crowded gala after the power goes out.

Beta Agenthandler

Bruce never planned on starting a family. He made a vow to live for justice. He would be the force Gotham needed. He would be the forever bachelor. Justice was his Lady Love.

But 90% of life’s plan was just that—a plan. Bruce would never have guessed he'd end up taking in a boy who called himself Dick Grayson. Technically his ward, but Bruce suffered a mid-life crisis every day from thereon, wondering whether it was the right choice for him to adopt a kid—or why anyone sane would let Bruce Wayne adopt any kid in the first place. It was a testament to Dick’s own awesomeness that he grew up to be a mostly functional adult—Bruce definitely wasn’t.

After Dick, he recruited an amazing girl named Barbara Gordon as another sidekick. She was not officially his adopted daughter, but by day two of working together Bruce registered her in his little hind brain as “my kid.”

Then another. Jason Todd not only stole the Batmobile’s tires but also Batman’s heart. The little boy taught Bruce more about street-smarts and how to be a better person right until his death. His realized depth of parental love made him wonder why he ever adopted anyone in the first place—and ended up losing them that way.

After what he thought was the last, another one came into his life without invitation. Timothy Drake was a genius detective. Out of his first four—yes, Bruce could still count—Tim was the most similar to Bruce. They had the same kind of upbringing amidst the Gotham Elite, they were both highly focused and detail oriented individuals. Tim was even smarter than Bruce, and he was the sole reason Bruce could continue functioning after Jason’s death. Tim was also the only one to believe he was still alive and brought Bruce back from when he was lost in time.

After Time was Stephanie Brown. A cheerful ray of sunshine that had her own worries, but could function the best out of all his children. She had the kind of light sarcastic humor to brighten up Bruce’s darker days. He gained a third daughter, Cassandra Cain, the most accomplished amongst his children in terms of stealth and combat, also his one darling princess.

Then Bruce was introduced to his—one and only—blood son, a little baby assassin who had the unfortunate tendency to stab first ask later. By this time, Bruce had a better handle on raising children highly susceptible to raising hell and violence (read: still an incompetent parent, but he knew how to tune out their nagging) and had no choice but to assign Dick  with Damian’s education on humanities and socialization.

He also had Helena, Terry, Matt, Duke, and Harper.

Bruce lost count.

It was the ultimate testament to Bruce’s parenting skill. He sometimes couldn’t remember how many kids he had. He could lose them in a Walmart and forget he was missing one. But thankfully, he had a secret weapon.

Since Jason, he assigned them all numbers. Dick was one, Barbara was two, Jason three, Timothy four, Stephanie five, Cass six,  Damian seven—although he always said he was the first—Duke was eight, Harper nine, Terry ten, Matt eleven, and little Helena was twelve.

Imagine that. Bruce had twelve kids. What was his vow again? Lady Love Justice? Don’t know her.

It became sort of a tradition. When the kids entered the Wayne manor, each of them wrote their number on the info board down in the changing room. They were also listed on a desktop note of the BatComputer. It became a ritual in which the last child would add their newest sibling into the list, so they knew who the next number was supposed to be, and that next child would be who they were responsible for. Well, except Dick who accepted all of them as his baby chicks. The number also became a little part of their identity—each of them would put their numbers on everything they owned from their doors to their batarangs to the containers in the fridge.

Bruce, most importantly, used the numbering system to check in on them. It started when Penguin detonated a bank and his robins were scattered fighting all the hundred thugs Penguin hired to keep Batman busy. The blast stopped the fight and Bruce’s heart dropped when he realized his coms were damaged and he immediately couldn’t keep sight of them. He immediately tried to think what he could do, and when he did,  he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“KID COUNT!”

“One!” Nightwing shouted from the top of the next building. Apparently he flew off the bank’s  roof when he realised it was going to burst.

Oracle was two but he knew she was safe in the clock tower.

“Three,” Red Hood drawled. Bruce wondered why he joined in, but was thankful nonetheless.

“Four,” Red Robin shouted from the opposite direction, because he was the sensible one who directed the civilians and police to safety.

“Five!” Spoiler laughed and flew to his side. “That was a doozy!”

“Six,” Black Bat said as she appeared beside Spoiler where they shared a hi-five.

“Seven,” Robin pulled out his swords from a thug’s leg. “Father, I need to clean my sword immediately.”

“No stabbing, please.” “Too late.” Bruce groaned.

“...Eight?” Signal. He was still new to the numbering system.

Batman let go a deep relieved sigh.

The police and civilians who were fortunate to witness the scene, collectively said ‘Oh’. It became a trending twitter before Tim deleted the topic as much as he could.

********

The counting continued though. Citizens who have lots of children (such as parents, teachers, sometimes even the Police teams), realised it was a quick method to ensure update of their progeny/students/teams condition. So they  The counting became sort of a Gotham Trend and eventually enlisted into Gotham’s Emergency SOP. Imagine that, having too many kids to count gave birth to a crucial disaster first-aid first responder procedure.

In all actually, maybe that was one of the top major contributions Batman has given to his city.

********

The kids themselves slowly embraced the importance and fun of the numbers. It created a sort of camaraderie-- even when the numbers didn’t correlate with their height. It used to be a nice isoquant curve when they stood side by side. But after Jason’s growth spurt and Tim naught growth spurt, Steph finding high heels and Cass love for Anti-flood Boots, the nice isoquant curve just became a jagged line not unlike a heartbeat rate.  

That aside, the numbering also slowly bled into their civilian lives:

1.

All of them counted before they entered the GothMart -- Alfred was there too, and suddenly Bruce became number 0. He was there to help Alfred because herding the kids was a massive job.

Dick was back for the weekend to spend time with his “babies” and refused to stay at home, because he wanted to sneak in his grocery list (gummy bears and cereals) into Bruce’s list so he could bring it back to Bludhaven and not spend a dime on it.  

Jason was there because Alfred asked him for help--he was the only one out of the brood with cooking talent and generally all responsible in the kitchen, i.e. Alfred could trust Jason to use his kitchen without blowing it up (shoutout to Tim and Duke who blew the kitchen for the fifth time this year).

Barbara stayed at home, watching over their base, but she was ready with her surveillance just in case they lost one of the broods.

Tim was half dragged, because he had spent the last 30 hours awake doing Bruce-knew-what, and only agreed to be dragged with the promise of sweet, abominable GothMart coffee with pink glitter (a cheap imitation of Starbucks, really) because Tim was fabulous especially after thirty hours of no sleep. And the surprisingly awesome coffee was a dollar--what kind of frugal millionaire didn’t appreciate a dollar of drinkable coffee?

Steph was the one who dragged Tim, with the help of Cass who just returned from Hong Kong for the weekend. Steph wanted to buy some new bras for Cass, something cool and sexy she could enjoy immensely. Bruce was not privy in this knowledge.

Damian was there to ensure his embarrassment of siblings didn’t kill themselves or humiliate the family. Wayne was his legacy afterall, and all of them reflected on his legacy, whether he liked it or not. Duke, the only one whom he could tolerate outside Cassandra (Grayson was mother) just poked his cheek and grinned. Duke might be tolerable, but it didn’t mean Damian didn’t want to stab him sometimes (Drake, on the other hand, looked like a nice pincushion to stab his sword into).

They counted 0 to 8 before they entered, orchestrated by Alfred.  

When they were ready for the checkout, 4, 5, and 6 were missing. Bruce finally found them at the children section, where Tim was busy defending his virginity from a Superboy Plushie, while Steph convulsed with laughter on the floor and Cass video-ed the entire thing.

Bruce refused to buy the cereals (Dick) / sexy lingerie (nope, nope, nope) / kitchen knife collection in black (Damian, as they didn’t need another stabby collection). But Bruce ended up buying the superboy plushie because it had been tainted (the store manager glared at him the whole check out time). At least Tim looked ashamed enough when he was handed the superboy plushie.

2.

The gala was in full swing, full of important people and not-so important moochies. Bruce was entertaining a group of usual donors (important and fun people!) while he saw Tim seriously discussing the stock exchange trends with several old, serious men. Dick was charming the usual group of ladies and young men, while Cass seemed to be hiding behind the potted plan.

Then, just like usual in Gotham, the lights went off. The room suddenly became dark and people started to scream.

“KID COUNT!” Bruce shouted. “Zero,” he added because of habit.

“One!” “Three!” “Four!” “Five and Six!” “Seven.” “Eight” “Nine.”

Wait, did he bring Harper with him? Harper was allergic to this kind of gala--and that was why he never fully adopted her into his Wayne name.

Oh well. The more number he got, the better.

Justice Lady love who?

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 11

Title: Old Wounds

Warnings: none. But there’s always profanity, just an FYI

Tagging: @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @tragiclyhip​

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news,” Tyler announces, as he descends the stairs later in the evening, pausing at the front entrance to switch off the foyer light and lock the door and set the alarm before joining his wife in the living room. “Which do you want first?”

Esme glances up from the mountains of clean laundry that takes up residence at her feet and on the already cluttered coffee table. Laundry baskets of differing colours are scattered around the room. A larger one that consists of their clothing and smaller containers labelled with each of the kids’ names; the latter eventually being placed in intervals on the stairs in hopes they’ll be carried up to the corresponding rooms. For the most part, the kids are good at getting their assigned chores done. The littles enjoying a ‘sticker chart’ that signifies a treat or toy of their choosing when full, and the older ones satisfied with decent sized allowances. Despite an extremely healthy bank account and money constantly flowing in, they’re still expected to ‘tow the line’; being taught responsibility and learning skills that will help them become self reliant and well functioning adults.

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. “Depends. On a scale of one to ten, how bad IS the bad news?”

“Considering it’s our kids we’re talking about?” He drops heavily onto the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his right knee when he stretches his leg out and places his foot on the edge of the coffee table. The cold weather is aggravating it; causing the arthritis to flare up and bringing with it an incessant ache that seems to have burrowed into the bone. Two reconstructive surgeries and a host of complications later, it’s as good as that leg is going to get. Already told to be prepared for a third surgery before he hits sixty. If he makes it that far. “I don’t know. I guess a four? Five at the most?”

“So that means no broken bones, knocked out teeth, and no one is unconscious or bleeding. In other words, it’s a relatively tame night for our house. Still…” she tosses a pair of mismatched socks into Tanner’s basket. He’s particular; socks always scrunched into a ball, never matching, and his other clothes separated by colour yet not folded, preferring to do it himself once he takes the basket upstairs. “...tell me the good news first. It’s been a weird day.”

“The good news is that all the little ones are already asleep. Tanner’s on his way out but he’s sleeping in the tub in the boys’ bathroom again because TJ and Declan are being too loud. Not even the headphones and locking himself in his happy place were doing the trick. I tried.”

“Well, at least he finds ways to cope and make himself happy, I guess. The bad news?”

“Millie and Alannah are showing no signs of slowing down. So if you’re wanting to actually get some shut eye, you might want to camp out down here. It’s going to be a long ass night.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Tanner’s headphones,” she says, then grins at him over her shoulder. “That should help fend off your snoring too.”

“It can’t be THAT bad. You’ve been sharing a bed with me for twelve and a half years. I notice you don’t ever head for the couch. You put up with it.”

“Do you know many times in the past twelve and a half years I’ve been tempted to smother you with a pillow? Many. Many. MANY times.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“Mostly because I wouldn’t do well in jail. I’d never survive in there. And prison jumpsuit orange is NOT my colour.”

“And here I was thinking maybe I’ve survived because you just love me THAT much.”

“It plays a small part in it. But just a small one. Just so you know.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around.”

“Like a migraine,” she teases, and yelps when he lands a playful yet solid backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends? That’s as far as we’ve come in twelve and a half years?”

“Friends with the best benefits,” she chides, and snags an unfolded towel from the pile of laundry on the floor and smacks him upside the head with it. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You wouldn’t suddenly want to find yourself facing an extremely long dry spell.”

“I’d be alright. I have three wank files on my phone now.”

“Three? What do you need three for? And how do you even have that many pictures of me in the first place? Are you sneaking them while I’m asleep? Because that’s just...creepy...if you are.”

“Bold of you to assume that it’s just pictures of you.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. I only need pictures of you. No one else. Well, there’s a couple of videos too, but…”

“I swear to God, if anyone ever goes into your phone and finds those? I will kill you. In the most brutal and painful way possible. Why do you need videos anyway?”

“Homemade porn. Best you can get.”

“You can’t watch regular porn like regular people?”

“I mean, I COULD. But I don’t want to. I want to watch you. Unleashing your inner porn star. Getting all freaky and kinky and shit. You should watch them with me. Be kind of hot, don’t think? Watch them and make a new one?”

“You’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my wife is a total MILF. That she looks all tiny and cute and innocent but is a freak in bed. You shouldn’t have been so eager and willing if you didn’t want me scooping you up at that quick.”

She smirks. “I thought you said I was a B plus?”

“You were. Until I got a hold of you. Now? Solid A plus, plus, PLUS.”

“So you’re finally admitting that you DID corrupt me. After twelve and a half years denying it.”

“I merely helped you build on your skills. Improve them. I was more than willing to let you experiment on me.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, I was a good girl until you got a hold of me.”

“Like fuck you were. Good girls do NOT bang a guy...for five days straight...that they barely know. Unprotected.”

“I admit, that was not one of my finer judgement calls. But I trusted you. You didn’t seem like the type that didn’t take precautions. I mean, looking like you do and having women in different ports all over the world? That was a given. But you didn’t strike me as the type that wanted kids all over the world. Or STD’s. I trusted you. For some reason.”

“You just wanted the dick. Admit it. You were willing to sacrifice all your morals and standards for it.”

“I will admit to no such things. You were just as into it as I was. You didn’t exactly turn sex down. You didn’t seem too concerned about the whole protection thing. How did you know I wasn’t some hoe crawling with Lord knows what? How’d you know you weren’t going to get the burn?”

“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”

Smirking, she cocks her head to the side and regards him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

“You were all cute and tiny and innocent looking. Boy did I learn. Quick.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have kept me around if I was TOO cute and innocent. I knew just enough to make you want it, yet still gave you a pretty clean slate to work with. You must be so proud of yourself. Corrupting me like you have. Moulding me into some freak in bed.”

“Babe, you had a freak inside of you, just took good dick to bring it out. You are some of my best work though. You didn’t turn out too bad.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Aren’t you glad you went along with Nik’s fucked up idea? Was it not the best decision of your life?”

“I don’t know about the best,” she teases, and drops a load of clean wash in his lap. “But you’re on my top five list.”

“Well for what it’s worth, it’s definitely the best decision I ever made. And you have to admit, the whole lack of protection thing? It didn’t turn out too bad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s turning into quite the hell beast. You know those hellhounds on Supernatural? Millie could be their ruler. In fact, they’d be scared of HER. Although I have figured it out. Why she’s been extra bitchy lately.”

“Please tell me it’s not boys. Bad enough we had one phone here. I don’t want to find out there’s more.”

“It’s not boys. Although…” she drops down onto the couch beside him. “...that will come soon enough. Puberty. It’s puberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“It hasn’t happened yet. The big event. She hasn’t gotten her period.”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“As uncomfortable as it makes you, we have to have it. Because it’s going to happen. Soon.”

“She’s eleven.”

“She’ll be twelve in March. I was just shy of twelve when I got mine.”

He turns his attention to the pile of laundry in his lap. “I do NOT want to hear this.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you. The mood swings? The skin breakouts? The fact she’s starting to develop and has already asked me to take her shopping for bras…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not listening to you. I refuse to listen to you.”

“...means that things are going to happen. Soon. And we need to be prepared. Especially you.”

“Why me? Why do I need to be more prepared than you?”

“Because I’ve had my period for almost thirty years. I’m obviously experienced in these things.”

“And I’ve lived with you for twelve of those thirty years. Who is the one that bears the brunt of the shit storm when you get all mean and moody and shit? Who’s the one that’s been bringing your bitchy ass chocolate and ice cream? Who’s the one that will massage your back and bring you a heating pad when the cramps are bad? Never mind that, who’s had to go to the store and buy you woman stuff?”

“You’ve been very good about it. But in all fairness, if you really think about it? I haven’t had my period that much since we’ve been together. You may have done all those very sweet and amazing things, but you’ve also gotten me pregnant with seven kids. In twelve years.”

“That is a very good point, actually.”

“All I’m saying is that things are going to happen. Soon. And I just want you to be prepared for it. I know it bothers you to think about it. Your baby girl growing up. But she is. Growing up. And she’s doing it very quickly. You need to step up your game and be ready for anything.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Do you, Tyler? Do you REALLY?”

Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her temple. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“I just want you to be prepared. In case it happens when I’m not home. So you know what to do.”

“You’re not leaving the house from here on out. Until she DOES get it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is in the house that you’ll need in case it does happen. I remember when Riley was going through puberty. My mom was totally useless. It was a disaster when I started mine. She would have been more than willing to just let me bleed all over the place. I had to stuff toilet paper in my underwear and steal money out of her purse so I could go to the store and get necessities.”

He grins. “My wife the felon.”

“So I made sure Riley would never have to go through that kind of humiliation. I made up this basket for her. Pads, tampons, a heating pad, chocolate bars, some pain killers. Everything she’d need. I’ll do that for Millie too. And I’ll put it somewhere where you can find it. So you’re ready if it happens and I’m not home.”

“Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

“Stick your head in the sand all you want, husband. It’s going to happen. Whether you like it or not. I know she’s your little girl. Your miracle baby. But she’s growing up. And it’s happening very fast and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, I’m not exactly happy about it either. This is all happening way too quick for my liking. Where the hell has the last twelve years gone? We’re going to have a teenager. Very soon.”

“Not to make things worse, but we’re going to have three in the house in just over two years.”

“You’re not helping. Seriously though. Where has that time gone? Some days it feels like we just met, don’t you think?”

“Now that I think about it, there are days you drive me as fucking nuts as you did that that first day in Dhaka.”

“Fuck you! I was cute and charming.”

“You were a pain in my ass.”

“But I was a CUTE pain in your ass. You can’t deny that.”

“You were something alright.”

“Look, just because you were having the feels for me and didn’t know how to handle it, that’s not my fault. And for the record, I would have been able to handle myself. In the market. If things went south.”

“Sure you would have. You would have been just fine. All five foot nothing and a hundred pounds of you.”

“Good things come in small packages. You didn’t need to watch me that closely.”

“Yes. I did. I very much did. You know what would have happened if Asif’s thugs got a hold of you? The end result would not have been pretty.”

“I think you use that as an excuse. I think you just wanted me that close because you WERE having feels for me.”

“I am neither going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve caught on to you. You can keep lying to yourself about your motives back then, but I know what you were up to. And it’s very sweet. That you wanted to keep me safe and sound because you had feels for me.”

“Do you want me to be totally honest?”

“Always.”

“I really just wanted to keep you close so I could look at your ass. And because I was hoping to get laid. I needed you to be safe and in one piece for that to happen.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I’m just saying. You want honesty? There’s your honesty. You were cute and had a wicked body and I was horny as fuck and wanted you to fix that. And boy, did you ever fix it.”

“And I'm still fixing it. Twelve and a half years later. You lucky bastard.”

“I am lucky.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Very lucky.”

“It’s weird.” She turns her attention back to folding the laundry at her feet. “Sometimes it DOES seem like it was just yesterday. Where DID the time go? How did we end up old enough to have a pre-teen? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel old enough for that.”

“The way my body is? I feel old enough to have a kid in college, never mind becoming a teenager. Which leads me to the other bad news.”

“Oh God…” Esme groans. “...there’s more?”

“These?” He reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Don’t do shit anymore. I can see up close, but I can’t see fuck all far away. You know what that means?”

“Your eyesight is shit. Which I’ve been telling you for the last three years. Is it just your right eye?”

“That one’s worse.” It’s a mixture of things. The knife that Nathan had dug into his face -the sharp blade cutting deep and causing problems with the surrounding nerves- and the multitude of concussions suffered over the years. The last one five years ago had been the tipping point; causing permanent and extensive damage to the optic nerve. “ But they’re both shit.”

“When we get home you’ll have to call and schedule an eye appointment. And while you’re at it, you should call and get that hearing test done.”

“I don’t need one done. I know my hearing is fucked.”

“Fucked or not, you need one. So you know what you’re dealing with. You might need a hearing aid.”

“That’s a huge ‘fuck no’ from me.”

“I know it makes you feel old; glasses and hearing aids and arthritis and all the aches and pains. But you ARE getting close to fifty. And you’ve had a hard life. There’s been a lot of damage done. Isn’t it better to get on top of those things? So they don’t get worse? I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be around for a long while. And if that means you have to wear glasses on a permanent basis and get a hearing aid…”

“I’m sorry. Are you talking? I couldn’t hear you. It’s my old age.”

“It’s not old age. You’re just an asshole. Always have been, always will be. But you’re my asshole and I want to keep you around. And I know YOU want to stick around. Especially for your kids. So do it for them? Get your eyes and your hearing tested. Please? Because we love you, you insufferable, stubborn pain in my ass. And us loving you? That’s not going to change because you need help hearing and seeing.”

“I’ll be ugly as fuck. If I have to wear glasses all the time.”

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly. In fact…” she plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them onto his face. “...I think you’re quite sexy in them.”

“You know, you’re not half bad looking when I can actually see.”

She laughs and shoves him back against the couch. “You’re a total dick.”

“Fuck you, you love me.”

“I do. Despite my better judgement and the warnings from friends and family.”

Smirking, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; speaking with the tips of their noses pressed together and lips mere inches apart. “Why are you so mean to me? You’re always so mean.”

“I know. You have it so rough. I am the worst wife EVER. I’m horrible. Just horrible. How you put up with me defies all logic.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It’s my cross to bear.”

“You poor bastard,” she laughs, a palm coming to rest on the side of his face when he kisses her. Long and slow and sweet, followed by a series of small pecks and then concluded with the press of his lips against her forehead; her eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It’s always been one of her favorite things; those feathery kisses placed on her brow and the weight of his hand on the back of her neck and the warmth of his body so close to hers. It’s sweet and it’s pure; intimacy at its most basic and innocent of levels. And her smile widens when a calloused fingertip softly traces the slope of her nose and his lips press against the tip. “You and your freckles.”

“Well technically, they’re YOUR freckles.”

“You’re staring at them aren’t you.”

“Not staring. Admiring.”

“Admiring what? They’re ugly.”

“They’re adorable. And you’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to each corner of her mouth, hand smoothing wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face and neck.

Her eyes flutter open. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. How you’re looking at me right now. Just so...I don’t know...I don’t know how to describe it. But you always do it. Your face changes. So does the colour of your eyes. It’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time all over again. Even though you’ve seen me nearly every day for the last twelve and a half years. Yet you still do it. Look at me like that. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe to me you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe all I see is you. Maybe because everything that is amazing and perfect in my life is because of you. All this? A place like this? My kids? Us? None of that would exist if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t stuck around on that bridge…”

“But I did. I DID stick around. And if it happened a thousand times, I would make the exact same decision. No hesitations. I did the right thing. No one can ever tell me different.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you put your ass on the line for a guy that was a complete and utter fucking mess.”

“Well I guess I just saw the potential,” she chides, and then kisses him; fingernails lightly scraping along the bottom of his hairline “You know what I really want right now?”

“I’m hoping you’re going to say sex, but I have a sneaky feeling that’s not it.”

“Leftover Chinese food. And my last chocolate croissant.”

“And then sex?”

Laying a hand on the side of his head, she pulls him closer; placing a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and then grinning against his ear. “Maybe.”

*****

An hour later they sit in the sunroom; the remnants of a late night meal on the coffee table, the area illuminated by strings of multi-colored Christmas lights lining each pane of glass and the soft glow given off by the space heater. It’s the kind of quiet and relaxation that is extremely rare to find especially during the holiday season; one that comes only when everything on your ‘to do list’ has been checked off. It’s a relief to have it all done; every last minute gift snagged, almost all the wrapping relegated to a very accommodating and willing Desi, fridges and freezers stocked and the house fully decorated both inside and out.

It had been a learning process; getting comfortable with celebrating the season while still harbouring painful childhood trauma and the memories of six Christmases with his first child. But Esme had made it easier; never pushing him to ‘get into the spirit’ and knowing what lines shouldn’t be crossing and learning to step back when the trauma of the past would begin to fester. Seeing her enjoyment of the holiday had helped; the excitement she shows over something as simple as a walk or a drive to look at other peoples’ lights, the joy she gets in buying things for the kids and keeping the magic alive and seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning. And he’d come around a little bit at a time; a distaste for the holiday becoming more bearable as the years went on and eventually being replaced with actual enjoyment and appreciation. And now that the hard work is done, it’s time to relish in accomplishment; a quiet house and the ambiance and the press of her head against his chest and the feel of her hair as it slowly slips through his fingers. He’d gladly stay there all the night; away from the giggles and chatter that drift down from their daughter’s room, lulled to sleep by the familiar weight of his wife’s body against his and the warmth that radiates from her. Nothing sexual about it; just quiet, soft intimacy in its purest form.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move away; head lifting from the back of the couch and as her hair slips from between his fingers. “You okay?”

She gives a sheepish, almost nervous smile. “We need to talk.”

“So no, you’re not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay.”

“Babe, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’.”

“Everything’s fine. The kids are good, I’m good, we’re good. Just something has been eating at me all day and I wasn’t even going to bring it up but I just know it’s going to keep me up all night if I don’t get it out.”

“How bad is this thing that’s been eating at you? Because the way you said ‘we need to talk’...”

“It’s not bad. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, it’s maybe a three. A four. At the most.”

“Okay. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…” she turns her body to face him. “.... there’s some other things I need to say. First, I want you to promise you won’t get upset.”

“It’s obviously worse than a four if you think it’s going to upset me. It takes a lot; for you to piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘pissing you off’. Just I can totally see why you might take it the wrong way and get defensive. And there’s no reason for you to be. Defensive.”

“It’s not about the job is it? Because we already talked about that and I already said I would stay home. Or at least if I did have to go somewhere, I’d stay completely behind the scenes. So if it’s about that…”

“It’s not about the job. That’s water under the bridge. We dealt with it. And may I add, we dealt with that very well. EXTREMELY well. You didn’t get worked up and we didn’t fight and that’s a big thing for us. A huge thing. And that’s a REALLY nice change; it shows we’re a lot stronger now.”

“So if it’s not about the job…”

“I need you to promise. That you won’t get upset. That you won’t get defensive even though it might seem like you need to be.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my shit together.”

“Second, I need you to know that I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you ARE the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down. You’re an amazing husband and an even more amazing father and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for my kids. And I appreciate you so much. Everything you do for us. For our family. How you care for us and provide for us and…”

“As nice as it is to hear all this, you’re rambling. And while I normally find that cute, it’s actually really unnerving right now. So maybe just spit it out? What’s going on? Why are you so edge? What’s got you all worked up?”

“Okay. I’m just going to ask and hope for the best. Just remember, there’s no reason to get defensive and I’m NOT accusing you of anything. It might seem like I am, but I’m not. I promise.”

“Are you going to get it out sometime today or…?”

“How friendly were you? To that neighbour the other day?”

“What neighbour?”

“The new one. The single mom. At the park. Natalie. The tall blond who looks like Sephora threw up on her face? Remember her?”

“What about her?”

“How friendly WERE you with her?”

He can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“You said you talked to her. What did you talk about?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m not just asking to ask. I knew you met her and I know you talked to her and…”

“And what? What ARE you trying to ask? Because you said I shouldn’t get defensive and it seems like maybe I should. ARE you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m not. I am not accusing of anything. I know you, Tyler. I know your heart. I know you love me and that you’d never, EVER cheat on me. So I am not accusing you of that. I never would.”

“So then what the fuck? What do you mean how friendly was I? When have you known me to be friendly with ANYONE? Especially people I don’t know. Are you suggesting I did something? Because that is totally it, Esme. I fucked her...in the dead of winter...in public...with my son twenty feet away. Is that what you WANT to hear?”

“No! God no. And that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I just want to know. What you talked to her about. That’s it.”

“Why? What the hell does it matter? You’re always on my ass about how I should be more social and make an effort to meet people. Now all of a sudden you’re changing your mind? ‘Cause you’re worried about some neighbour? What the hell…?”

“Hear me out, please,” she begs, and takes both of his hands in hers. “This isn’t about me being neurotic and my self esteem issues and my weirdness about other women.”

“Seriously? Because that’s EXACTLY what this is about. This happens every fucking time we go somewhere. You get all worked up because you think women are paying attention to me. Because you think all these housewives and mothers are so thirsty they’d actually give a fuck about me. You think way too highly of me.”

“Okay, first off, no I don’t. You happen to be incredibly attractive. The blue eyes? The smile? The body? The whole vibe you’ve got going on? The resting bitch face? The tattoos and the scars and the whole intimidation factor? It’s very sexy. Whether you realize it or not. And I know you can’t help it. You’re just naturally beautiful. I’m not blaming you for that. But I do have a reason. For being the way I am. For having the issues I do.”

“Yeah, your brain is fucked up. Just as much as mine is.”

“You may not see it...all the women that check you out and thirst over you...but I do. All the time. But we’re not talking about the soccer park or the school yard. We’re talking about the park. And Natalie. The pretty single mom.”

“She’s not pretty. I don’t think she’s pretty.”

“Are you blind? You must be. Your eyes must be worse than my thought.”

“She’s not pretty. Not to me. She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. In fact, your type used to be anything that walked with a wiggle.”

“I’ve had a type for the last twelve and a half years. If you want to call it having a ‘type’. You. You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only woman that I give a shit about. You might as well be the only one that exists on the entire fucking planet. All I want is you. That’s it. So what the fuck…?”

“She showed up here today. Asking for you.”

“Who did?”

Esme sighs in exasperation. “Natalie. The neighbour.”

“She came here?”

“And asked for you. She came calling on another woman’s husband. You don’t find that at least a little bit strange? That she would do that? That she would show up on our doorstep looking for you? You don’t find that even a little weird?”

“I find it a lot weird. I don’t know why she’d come here. I wasn’t THAT nice. It was small talk. Nothing more than that. I was my usual pleasant self.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on her. Enough that she felt comfortable coming here. And talking to your daughter AND your wife. Let me just say, her social etiquette needs some work. She’s not as charming and witty as she thinks she is. Her people skills are a tad rusty.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you. To give you her cookie.”

He chuckles. “Is that a code language for…?”

“No. She literally brought you cookies. That she made for you.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme’s eyes narrow.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Probably not the best time to make one, mind you.”

“Oatmeal raisin if you need to know ALL the details.”

“Worst cookie EVER. You don’t know betrayal until you bite into one thinking it’s chocolate chip and you find out it’s THAT.”

“I’m pretty sure she was also offering up HER cookie. On a silver platter.”

“And if she was? Who the fuck cares? I don’t want anything from her. I talked to her at the park. Welcomed her to the neighbourhood. That was it. Everything else is on her. If she read too much into it, that’s her problem. Not mine. I made small talk and that was it. And you know how much I hate small talk.”

“I know YOU didn’t do anything. I know you. I know who you are and what you’re like. I wasn’t suggesting that you made a move on her or led her on or anything like that. You know that, right? That I’m not accusing you of anything?”

“I know you’re not. But it does seem like you are.”

“I know. And I don’t mean for it to sound that way. It just upset me. Her showing up here. Asking for you. That is so many shades of wrong. Why would someone do that?”

“Why would a man follow someone’s wife home from the post office? Someone’s noticeably pregnant wife.”

“That’s NOT the same thing.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s worse. You were pregnant with my kid. You told him you were married. And he still followed you home.”

“And you took care of it. You scared the shit out of him. Knocked him on his ass. All’s well that ends well.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it. The fact some fucking asshole followed my wife home. You say I don’t notice things? How come you never notice all the men that pay attention to you? I notice it. Why don’t you?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

“It happens all the fucking time. And some of them are actually brave enough to be right out there with it. That takes a lot of balls; being that bold in front of someone’s husband. You think I like THAT? When men check you out?”

“You never say anything. You never act like it’s bothering you. If it does, why don’t you just say something?”

“Because I trust you. Because I’m secure. When it comes to knowing how you feel about me. I don’t see these guys as competition. A pain in the ass. But not competition.”

“That’s because they’re not. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I am perfectly happy with you. I love the way things are. With you. None of them matter to me.”

“Then why does it bother you what other women do? Why does it bother you so much? You don’t trust me?”

“What? No. I do. I DO trust you. You are not the problem. They are.”

“That doesn’t make ANY sense. How can they be a problem when I won’t let them be? I don’t give a fuck about any of them. How can they cause issues if I won’t let them? What do you think they’re going to do, Me? You can’t steal someone away unless they WANT to be. And you know what? As much as you drive me fucking insane, I am perfectly happy where I am. With who I have.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being around that. Those women. You don’t…”

“I DO know what it’s like. Guys check you out all the time. Do you see me going all neurotic about it?”

“Well, being neurotic IS my thing,” she sheepishly admits.

“This needs to stop. You being like this. It has been twelve and a half years of this, Me. And it’s tiring. I love you. And I have to tell you until my very last breath that I love you and I don’t want anyone else, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t mean it it doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.”

“You knew I was like this. You knew my issues. Going into things. If they pissed you off THAT bad…”

“They don’t piss me off. Is it annoying, yes? Can I live with it? Also a yes. I will put up with it. Until my dying day. Because I love you. But I would give anything to put an end to it.”

“I can’t help it. Being like this. I’m not you, Tyler. You’re secure and you’re confident and you’re able to just ignore other men.”

“Because I trust you.”

“And I trust YOU. You are NOT the problem. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. Me worrying about other women when I know for a fact you’d never cheat on me. But I do. Worry about them.”

“Why? Tell me why you worry about them? What do you think they’re going to do, Esme? Tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“That is NOT an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Try again.”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking. But you don’t hear what they say. The women at the soccer park on the school yard. I do. I hear it. I hear them talking about how ugly and plain and boring looking I am and how they can’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like me,” she struggles to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “They don’t hide it, Tyler. They don’t talk about these things in secret. They make sure I hear it. And you know what? It hurts. A lot. And if I tell you something hurts me, you don’t have the right to tell me it doesn’t.”

“I’m not doing that, babe. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt you. And I’m sorry. That it does. That you hear stuff like that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. You can’t help what they say.”

“Do you want me to say something? To them? The next time I pick the kids up? Because I will. I’m not shy when it comes to telling people off. You know that. And when it comes to protecting you…”

“It would just make things worse. I can just hear them now. Talking about what a cry baby I am and how you deserve a real woman. Don’t say anything. It’ll just set them off. Things are bad enough as they are.”

“Why don’t you tell them to fuck off? You usually don’t back away from shit like that.”

“Because that’s our kids’ school and we’ve been on the principal’s shit list before and I don’t want to make things hard on our kids. But it does bother me. Hearing that stuff. And it DOES hurt.”

“But it shouldn’t. That’s what I’m saying. Just let go in one ear and out the other. Who gives a fuck what they think? What does it matter? I love you. I have always loved you. I always WILL love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? What I think? Why isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be. And I know it should be. I know you love me. I’ve never doubted that. Not even during those six months. Even then, I knew you did. You just needed to get your shit together. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I don’t why I’m like this. Why I can’t get past it. I think I’m getting better and then something happens and it’s back to square one.”

“Your mom fucked you up. So did Mark. You went through a lot of shit. Especially with him. But I’m not Mark, Esme.”

“I know. I know you’re not.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure you do.”

The tears come freely now; body trembling with the force of the emotions that accompany them. And he places a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him; a forearm across the small of her back as her body presses tightly against his and her arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs against his shoulder. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Like I was comparing you to him.”

“I know.” One hand repeatedly strokes his hair, the other settling at the small of her back. “I know you didn’t.”

“Because you’re NOT him. You’re nothing like him. And I’ve never thought you are. I’m sorry, Tyler. For making you that feel that way. I never meant it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Me. He fucked you up. Badly. I’m just the guy that came after. The one that has to try and clean up his mess. And if it takes the rest of my life to do that? Then I’ll deal with it. I can’t make it better. I can’t take it all away; make it like it never happened. I wish I could.”

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be crazy and neurotic and a freaking mess.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’re a beautiful mess.”

She manages a small laugh. “I don’t know what to do. To make this better. To make ME better. And it’s not fair to you. To have to deal with this shit.”

“I’ve brought more shit to the table than you have. And you’ve always dealt with it. I figure it’s the least I can do. Put up with your crap.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me. And it shouldn’t be up to you to do it.”

“You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. I love you. It’s what we do. Help each other. Fix one another. You’re not in this by yourself.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you past all this.”

“What if we can’t? What if it CAN’T be fixed?”

“Then we live it. I spent the rest of my life constantly reassuring you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and think you’re the most beautiful in the world. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” she chides. “Always so willing to sacrifice yourself.”

“Well, we do crazy shit for love. When we get home, you should go and talk to Doctor Klein. Tell him what’s going on. How you’ve been feeling. If anyone can figure shit out, it’s him.”

“You’ll come with me, right? I think you should. Come with me.”

“You know I will. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls away to look at him, sitting back at her heels. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he declares, and lays his hands on the sides of her face and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I know all snotty nose and puffy eyed isn’t my best look, but maybe we could have sex now?”

He grins. “Maybe. Would it make you feel better?”

She nods. “Being worshipped ALWAYS makes me feel better.”

“What can I say? I’m always willing to cheer you up. Besides, your body’s a temple, babe. It deserves to be worshipped.”

“It’s a temple, alright. Ancient and crumbling. Probably haunted.”

“It’s beautiful,” his hands move to the front of the plaid shirt she wears; enormous and baggy on her tiny frame. “And sexy.”

“Even after seven kids?”

His fingers tend to opening the buttons on the shirt. “ESPECIALLY after seven kids.”

“You always have the right thing to say. Your sweet talking is improving.”

“I thought you preferred dirty talk?”

“I do. Dirty talk is my favourite. Especially YOUR dirty talk. That voice? That accent? I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” With a playful smirk, he forcibly shoves her onto her back; a palm on either side of her head as outstretched arms brace his much heavier and bulkier frame. “In that case, shut up and let me fuck you.”

[shoelace-and-friends]

Third week of dog grooming school

So, this post is coming a bit late (tomorrow I’m starting week 4), but i’m getting further along! It’s starting to get harder but I can tell I’m improving.

Day Eleven: Angel the Papillon

Out of all the dogs I’ve groomed so far, I’d say that this dog is the one whose attitude changed the most as I groomed her. Angel is an older dog and my instructor told me in advance that Angel has a bit of anxiety. Although a little squirmy and whiny, she put up with her bath and with being brushed before her shave. However, as it turns out, Angel is absolutely terrified of being blow dried. When I attempted it by myself, she actually tried to bite me a couple times. So, I was unable to dry her on my own and needed some help. But after that though, she became easier and started to warm up to me. as it turns out, Angel is actually a very sweet girl. With praise and affection, I was able to groom her without much upset. As it turns out, all this girl wants to do is hug and be held. She definetely enjoyed being held after we were done. She’s very small. The littleist dog I ever groomed. She and Valet from the week before also made me realize that I like papillons as a breed and I am now planning on getting one once I finish grooming school.

Day Twelve: Ozzie the minuture American shephard

I actually never even heard of this breed prior to that day, but I have to say that this dog is absolutely gorgeous. Ozzie has such a charming face, with his two different eye colors and that cute pink spot on his nose. Also I cannot emphasize enough just how good of a boy he was! No fuss, this guy would let me do literally anything to him. I also got to try some new things with him! His breed are guess sheds A LOT , so he got a rigorous bath with deshedding shampoo and conditioner, and brushes and blow drys in between. A whole buttload of fur came off of this dog. The fur was all over like half the tub room. I also used chunkers on this dog for the first time, under the belly and on the legs, and also to give him a floofy doggy butt and a faux tail. (I actually cut my finger for the first time while grooming on the chunkers lol)

Day thirteen: Chloe the cavalier king Charles spaniel

Chloe got a reverse 7F clipper all over (but the ears and tail), with a 10 blade at whatever the 7F couldn’t get. In other words, she got a short haircut. She’s a well-behaved, older dog, but also probably the laziest dog I ever groomed. All this girl ever wants to do is sit or lay down. It was absolutely impossible to get her to stand because she’d just sit immediately after. So, I had to make do and figure out how to do as much as I could with her in a seated position. The two trickiest things about this groom I’d have to say are the feet and the face. Because of her short haircut I had to give her “poodle feet”, which for me were tricky and kind of hard to get the hang of. As for the face, this was the first time I ever did a whole face by myself. Actually, that day was the first day where our instructor stood back and just let us do our thing withojt helping. She corrected a couple things I missed in the end but I otherwise did a lot on this dog.

Day fourteen: Toby the shih-tzu

For this groom, I feel the need to show you the before and after side by side. This is the most dramatic before and after I’ve ever had to do. Honestly? This groom kind of upset me a little to do. Not because I think I did a bad job, but because his owner actively asked for the dog to be this way. This was pretty much the same deal as Chloe where I had to shave Toby with a 7F reverse and a 10. Personally, I thought he looked better before his haircut and I don’t understand why someone would choose to shave their dog that short in the winter. But, grooming is a service and the goal is to give the owner what they want if you can. Toby’s dad was at least happy. I did make one screw up though where I used a 40 on the whole foot by mistake and not just the paw pads. In the end though Toby was alright and I think it all worked out.

Day fifteen: Zoe the maltese

I don’t know why it is, but for some reason I keep on being the one getting assigned the elderly dogs. Zoe’s an old girl, diabetic and a little chubby (still cute tho). She took a 5F on the body. Her owner came later than scheduled, so my time was a bit limited and I struggled a bit to finish her, with my instructor swooping in at the end to help me get done in time. And on top of that, I accidentally dropped my clippers and now need to get my 5F and 30 blade replaced. I guess I was having an off day on friday. But yanno, tgif?

Aside from Ozzie, this week was a bit boring groom wise because it was mostly just shaves all over the body. But on the plus side, I’ve gained some independence as a groomer this week and was doing a lot more on my own. Next week we will start to get two dogs a day instead of just one, so that is something to look forward to.

[twins2994]

Cleveland Indians-Minnesota Twins Series Preview

8.16.21-Cal Quantrill RHP (3-2) 3.13 ERA Vs. Griffin Jax RHP (3-1) 5.45 ERA

8.17.21-Eli Morgan RHP (1-5) 6.52 ERA Vs. Bailey Ober RHP (1-1) 4.53 ERA

8.18.21-Zach Plesac RHP (7-4) 4.64 ERA Vs. TBA

The Indians At A Glance- The Indians had a decent first half with a (45-42 record. The second half has been a second half as the Tribe has went (12-17) and traded away some guys at the deadline. Since we last saw the Indians, Eddie Rosario was traded to the Braves, Phil Maton to the Astros, DJ Johnson and Jordan Luplow to the Rays, and Cesar Hernandez to the White Sox. Shane Bieber is out with a right shoulder strain and Aaron Civale has a sprained middle finger. The Indians are in an odd spot as they could retool or rebuild for next year. Cleveland took two out of three games from Detroit this weekend and finish a six-game road trip this week in Minneapolis. Wilson Ramos has been a good addition to the team. He is hitting .385 with a pair of homers and four RBI’s. Myles Straw might be the new everyday center fielder and has a .317 average in sixteen games for Cleveland. Jose Ramirez leads the team with twenty-six homers and seventy-two RBI’s. The Indians starting rotation has been worse than the Twins with a 5.13 ERA on the year. The bullpen is eighth-best in baseball with a 3.71 ERA. Emmanuel Clase has been a solid reliever with sixteen saves and a 1.68 ERA. Blake Parker has found a role in the bullpen as well. Bryan Shaw is having a resurgent year and James Karinchak always has nasty stuff. Terry Francona has stepped down as manager for the rest of the year due to health issues. DeMarlo Hale has been serving as the manager and will close out the season. 

The Twins At A Glance- The Minnesota Twins have been hot and beating up on the best teams in baseball. They won three out of four games from the Astros, two out of three from the White Sox, and two out of three from the Rays. All three series wins were against first place teams. Luis Arraez has been on fire lately with a .385 average in August. Jorge Polanco has hit six homers and knocked in twelve this month as well. Byron Buxton will likely start a rehab assignment this week in St. Paul. He had to attend to a family matter this weekend at home, but is expected to workout with the team on Monday before they decide what the next steps are. Willians Astudillo left Sunday’s game after getting hit in the foot by a pitch. The overly cautious Rocco Baldelli took him out of the game. Griffin Jax and Bailey Ober have led a starting pitching resurgence. Ober has allowed three runs over 10 1/3 innings in August and Jax has put up two very good starts. The Twins will need to decide on a starter for Wednesday’s game because Michael Pineda will miss a few starts. Alex Colome has not allowed a run over his last 7 1/3 innings. Juan Minaya has a 6 2/3 scoreless innings streak. Jorge Alcala is doing better after being placed on the injured list with triceps tendinitis. 

What To Watch For- The Twins are (5-4) against the Indians this season. The Twins will play the Indians ten times over the past 44 games of the year. Cal Quantrill has a 8.64 ERA in four games against the Twins. Griffin Jax allowed three runs over 4 1/3 innings in his only game against the Tribe. Eli Morgan and Bailey Ober have not faced their opposition before in their careers. Zach Plesac has a 5.40 ERA in three starts versus the Twins. Wilson Ramos surprisingly didn’t play at Target Field with the Tigers this year. He was released on June 20th before Detroit made their trips here. He played at CHS Field earlier this year with the Columbus Clippers though. He has a .238 career average in eleven games at Target Field. It should be a fun series between two young teams this week. 

-Chris Kreibich-

[celestialices]

QUEST!

Greek Mythology x Haikyuu

Haikyuu!Ensemble x Reader

Summary: You were just a perfectly normal student at The University of Tokyo, when suddenly a bunch of 'normal boys', as they call themselves, appeared in your life and started to squeeze themselves into your life. Always saying something like "You're a goddess, we need to take you back to Olympus" (you brushed it off, saying that it was just a silly compliment) and even absurd sentences such as "You got Medusa's eyes" and "You're really Medusa's daughter!"

You really want a peaceful school year, but the universe beg to differ.

005: JOURNEY TO EARTH

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Kuroo could never get use to Underworld’s atmosphere. It is currently his second time visiting this week, it was unsettling. He never visits the Underworld unless it is need to, which is usually once a year.  The air was rotten and stuffy, contrasting to Mt. Olympus’ refreshing winds, it makes it hard to breathe. The acid red-blooded lakes, tall trees without leaves hiding the eerie sinners, and nerve-racking animals who seems to watch his every step. It was a hair-raising place. Although Kuroo can’t lie, it is the perfect abode for evil-doers.  “Where the... Where’s Suna?” Kuroo complains, he’s getting fidgety for standing in one place. Unlike the stares he gets in Mt. Olympus, he doesn’t enjoy this at all. It feels like they’ll eat him alive any time by now. “I’m here.” Suna appeared before his eyes, making Kuroo quiver in fear. Suna snickered, totally enjoying scaring deities off using his helm of invisibility. “Sorry, got caught up with Cerberus.”  “It’s fine. Let’s go to Asami before we leave.” Kuroo suggested. Today was the day where they’ll descend on Earth. Everything feels rushed; they just started discussing this matter three days ago. Kuroo feels like they’re catching time, but he accepts the hurry, after all, Medusa’s daughter is dubbed to be a dangerous goddess.  It took a lot of walking to get to Asami’s ‘prison.’ Oddly enough, it was not placed in Hades’ Palace, but next to Nyx’s cave. He doesn’t really understand why, but it’s probably for the better security, is it not? Nyx is one of the most powerful goddesses, Zeus even feared her himself. Because of her mysterious and dark aura, a lot see her as more of a villain frame than she ever seem to be. She is actually kind and loving, so Kuroo didn��t be inquisitive about it any longer. He sighs. My mind never got to relax in the past three days. As soon as they reached Asami’s (hopefully) temporary accommodation, Suna knocked at the door. Not even a minute passed, Nyx opened the door. It made the two stiffened, totally not expecting to face the goddess of night. “Visiting Asami?” Her voice is low and sinister, terrifying enough to make the two gods rethink their decisions and just run away. She glanced at Kuroo, who just sheepishly smiled at her. The two bowed, saying their greetings. Nyx is actually a respected goddess, a beautiful one, may I add. She made an impact to everyone, whether good or bad.  “Come in, Asami would be happy to see you.” Nyx smiled and made a way for them to enter.  “Thank you, Goddess Nyx.” Kuroo said, the amount of respect he has for her was immeasurable. Despite being portrayed as a dangerous goddess, it was all baseless rumors. If only she’d visit Mt. Olympus, maybe the deities impression of her would’ve been different.

“No worries. I thank you for visiting Asami. Poor girl, really.” She uttered, sorrow all over her voice. The two god could see the sincerity in her face. She really cares. “I’ll be going now. Pay her a visit whenever you please, Akagi will take you here.”  “I could never get use to Nyx’s kindness.” Suna said shortly after Nyx left. Hearing made up stories about her since he was young took a toll on how he sees her, so when he really met her after straying away from Persephone, he was shocked. 

“Yeah. She’s really kind-hearted.” Kuroo admiringly remarked. “Let’s go in, Asami is probably waiting for us.”  Kuroo and Suna entered the dark and strange house, staring at each accessory displayed. Dead flowers in a vase, paintings of Cerberus, Nyx and the Underworld, and the pale walls were not helping. How could one live in this?  “Tetsuro? Rintarou?” The two gods stopped in their tracks and stared at Asami before them. She actually looks good and healthy, a clear evidence that Nyx is taking good care of her. “Asami.” Suna called and stretched out his arms, asking for a hug.  Asami sprinted into Suna’s arms, the tight hug made it evident on how they’ve missed each other. It’s been a rough week for the both of them, oh how they’re glad to see a familiar face again.  “Thank you for visiting.” Asami expressed how happy she’s feeling with a smile. “Kuroo, you’re here again.” Beaming, she hugged Kuroo for a minute, already missed his presence despite the fact that they saw each other yesterday.  “We’re just here to say that..” Kuroo hesitated for a bit, unable to find the right words in such manner where Asami won’t get hurt or worried. “We’re leaving today, after we visit you.”  Silence.  “Oh.” Asami couldn’t hide her disappointment, but it was for the best. Finding the real daughter of her mother.. of Medusa was the top priority. She should still feel glad that they made time for all. Even if she’s just a mere human with no connections to the deities at all. “Oh! I wish you the best of luck.” She says, genuinely  Immediately sensing her dismay, Kuroo held her hand. “It’ll be better soon, Asami. Plus, I told Kenma and the others to visit you often, you won’t be lonely.” He assured her.  “We’ll handle this quickly, Asami. Then you’ll be free to wander around Mt. Olympus again.” Suna added. At the end of the day, Asami is always their top priority. No goddess could absolutely replace her. “I promise we’ll be back as soon as possible,” Kuroo grinned, ruffling Asami’s shining hair in the process. “We’ll chat with you for a while before we leave. But first of all, are you doing well?”  Asami giggled. “I’m doing great because of Nyx. How about the two of you? How is Mount Olympus? How’s my siblings? How’s.. Father?” She was dying to ask these questions, but restrained herself.  “Mount Olympus is fine. The information of Medusa’s.. daughter on Earth is kept within the superior gods, and some of our friends. It’s better that way.” Kuroo answered. It’s supposed to be kept within the superior gods only, but the news spread like a wildfire, until Zeus stepped in. “Your family is good. Shimizu said she’ll make time to visit you soon.” He glanced at Suna, motioning for him to continue.  “Iwaizumi is one of the deities to look for.. her.” Suna awkwardly mentioned, still not used to this whole ‘Asami-is-not-a-deity’ situation. “Kuroo, Suna. They’re already looking for you.” Nyx appeared out of the blue, startling the three of them. Seriously, what’s with the goddesses appearing out of nowhere? “My apologies for interrupting.” “No, not at all, Goddess Nyx.” Kuroo glimpsed at Asami before sighing. “Thank you for informing us. Suna, we better go.”  Suna only nodded, embracing Asami for the last time. “Take good care of yourself.”  They started walking towards the door, when Asami suddenly spoke.  “If you ever find her...” 

Kuroo and Suna looked at her with curious eyes, waiting for her to continue.  “Take good care of her, okay?”  Iwaizumi never felt more uneasy in his whole life. Kuroo and Suna returned from the Underworld a few moments ago, and after what Asami just said? It was upsetting. Asami doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s getting right now. “She’ll be okay.” Oikawa whispered to Iwaizumi. He knows empty words like “she’ll be fine” will not help at all, but at times like this, no one can ever be too sure. “Come on, we all know Asami.”  This at least made Iwaizumi feel a bit better. “I know.” Iwaizumi answered, feeling a bit bummed out that he pitied Asami for a moment. Out of all deities, he should’ve been the first to know that she’s a strong girl.  “The Olympians will arrive soon. We better prepare ourselves.” Kita announced, loud enough to let the other eleven hear. Everyone has been anxious for the past week, all because of the Medusa’s daughter issue. Especially the Twelve Greek Gods who were assigned to find the wanted goddess who’s currently living on Earth.  The wanted goddess who is either aware of who she is or has been raised as a human all her life. A goddess who might probably surpass Zeus’ powers with her ability to stay hidden. Everybody is afraid, no one can tell how things will turn out.  “They’re here.”  Suna sensed the immense ambience coming from the Olympians behind doors. It was powerful, so much energy gathered in one place that could destroy the human world.  The Olympians entered the chambers, all in their glory. Zeus with Hera beside him lead the group, making their way to the long table prepared for them. Their slow walking, in all probability that they’re thinking this as a red carpet, only caused distressed to the other deities present.  After what felt like a whole year, the Olympians finally made their way to their assigned chairs. Their chosen representatives stood before them, just like how they’re asked to. The only ones without someone behind them was Artemis. “Just as planned, what we discussed a few days ago will immediately relied to Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Athena started, a chorus of ‘yes’ was followed. “Do your best, gods. Earth is placed into your hands.”  “Make sure to take care of yourselves.” Hestia worriedly said. “Kunimi, come back right away if something that’s out of your hands happens. I’ll be with you right away.” The representatives’ hearts warmed because of what Hestia said. She truly lives up to her name.  “I forgot to mention.” All eyes were pierced to Zeus in a second. “The deity who’ll get her back here first will be rewarded.”  The representatives frowned. “A.. reward?” Kageyama Tobio, the representative of Aphrodite, asked. He’s unsure if he had heard it right, actually everyone is. He’s a brave soul for asking on behalf of them. Rewards were uncommon for deities, they’re the ones who usually gives rewards to humans. So hearing that is a bit..  “Yes, a reward.” Zeus repeated himself. “I will tell you once things settle down. For now, focus on your quest.” He reminded. His voice was clear and authoritative, it sent shivers to Kageyama’s spine.  Hades (replaced Hephaestus since the god didn’t send any) peeked at his son, both of them sharing a knowing glance at each other. Hades nodded at him before looking away. Even though he, too, doesn’t know what reward Zeus was talking about, he still wants Suna to win it. As long as Suna wins, he’ll be happy.  “As expected, my son, Kuroo, will take the lead.” Hera declared. No one really wants to go against her, so her companions stayed silent, letting her do what she wants.  “Shouldn’t we.. leave now?” Sugawara murmured to Akaashi who has beside him. Every time the Olympians gather was like stepping into Underworld. It is extremely suffocating.  Akaashi looked like he was uncomfortable too. He slowly leaned to Ares’ ear, “Father, you should suggest that we leave now if they want to find her sooner.” He reasoned, hopefully it’ll work on Ares.  Ares cleared his throat after Akaashi finished what he was saying. “My incredibly smart son wants to leave now so the search would be done in a heartbeat.” Ares boasted. Akaashi internally screamed, embarrassed by his father’s actions.  “I suppose you’re right, Keiji.” Aphrodite replied. “Go on now. Kunimi, do your thing.” She added, referring to the portal Kunimi will create in order to get to Earth. Hermes could do it too, but they agreed to let Kunimi practice his abilities.  Kunimi Akira stepped forward, claiming the center. He closed his eyes for better concentration, and slowly moved his hand in a circle motion in order to start the portal. You already practiced this, Kunimi. Calm down.  The blue circle Kunimi was creating gets bigger and bigger, a glimpse of trees is already showing. It is working! His concentration was broke for a bit, but immediately prioritized his attention to the portal he’s making.  A few minutes passed before Kunimi completed making the portal, him sighing in both relief and satisfaction because of what he did. He’s already pretty good at this, he’ll ace it in no time. “Well, it’s time.” Poseidon announced. “Do well, chosen ones.” Each deity entered one by one, from Kunimi to the last one, Iwaizumi. He’s walking towards the portal but didn’t forget to give a glance to his father one last time.  “I’ll bring her back.” 

A/N:  I just edited the previous chapters a while ago, but you don’t have to re-read it! I only added a few more sentences and details (that will be mentioned in the upcoming chapters) here and there, nothing important.  Again, comments, notes, and reblogs are very much appreciated! It motivates me to know that you are enjoying my story :) Forgive me if there are typographical errors in this chapter. :3  Send an ask if you have any questions! I’d be happy to answer them. Thank you so much for reading! I hope everyone stays safe and stay healthy. Take care of yourselves <3